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Then—

"Poppy."

I'd turn to find Azaren halfway through someone's ceiling. Or standing in the middle of Mrs. Jenkins' pantry. Or glaring at me from inside Mags' greenhouse with leaves stuck in his hair. "You did that deliberately."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"You counted."

"I might have counted."

"You are impossible."

"I learned from the best."

Then I'd kiss him. Every single ounce of irritation would disappear. He never admitted it. He didn't have to. His smile always gave him away.

A few weeks later, the entire town came. Which, considering most of them had once tried to convince me I needed to marry a pumpkin farmer's son named Earl, felt oddly appropriate.

Mrs. Wilton stood at the front of the little clearing in Screaming Woods looking healthier than I'd ever seen her. Color had returned to her cheeks. Her silver hair glowed in the afternoon sun, and she was smiling so hard I thought her face might permanently stay that way.

Beside her stood Mrs. Langton, dabbing dramatically at her eyes every thirty seconds.

"I am not crying," she insisted to anyone who looked at her.

"You've gone through three handkerchiefs," Mrs. Jenkins observed.

"Seasonal allergies."

"In October?"

"Very aggressive pollen."

Mr. Alvarez snorted. Mayor Henderson shook his head. Mags smiled knowingly from beside the herb cart she'd somehow managed to bring to a wedding.

Even old Mr. Hamilton had cleaned up for the occasion, proudly wearing a suit that looked older than Mrs. Wilton.

Reggie wandered between everyone's legs wearing a tiny emerald-green bow tie and behaving as though he personally had organized the entire ceremony. He probably thought he had. I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt.

The air began to shimmer. Infernal fire spiraled upward beside the altar. The townspeople collectively took one cautious step backward. Three demons stepped through. The first... well. Even after everything I'd been through... I instinctively reached for Azaren's hand. He squeezed mine reassuringly.

"Asmodeus," he said with a respectful nod.

The Lord of Lust smiled. It wasn't comforting. He was beautiful in the same way a hurricane was beautiful. Dangerous. Ancient. Entirely too amused.

Behind him stood Belphegor and Valefar, both towering over every human present.

Mrs. Langton blinked once. "Well."

Mrs. Wilton smiled brightly. "Welcome."

Asmodeus inclined his head. "It has been... quite some time since Hell received a wedding invitation."

Mrs. Wilton beamed. "I do hope you'll stay for cake."

"I believe we shall." He looked around Screaming Woods. "The veil feels... peaceful."

"It is," Mrs. Wilton replied. "As good a place as any."