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"No."

"Oh." A thoughtful pause. "You should."

"..."

"It goes wonderfully on tomatoes."

"I don't know what a tomato is."

"You've never had a tomato?"

"I have inspired the collapse of empires."

"They're really good in soup."

I closed my eyes. Asmodeus would've loved this. Not Poppy. He would've turned her into an official punishment. Congratulations. You've been particularly wicked. Your sentence is one uninterrupted conversation with Poppy Hale about herbs and proper soup recipes.

Even Belphegor would've confessed to crimes he hadn't committed just to make it stop. I missed those miserable bastards. Hell. I'd settle for Kevin.

Kevin cheated. Constantly. And I'd still rather spend a century playing cards with him than another hour discussing oregano. Unfortunately... I had a feeling Poppy Hale was just getting started.

The woman possessed exactly two remarkable talents. The first was talking. The second was somehow making me answer. I still hadn't figured out how she did it.

There was a third talent, though I refused to name it aloud even to myself: the small, unwelcome way her laughter warmed the air, as if some traitorous ember in my chest leaned toward the sound of it.

"I still don't know what you are."

"I told you."

"I know, but..." She paused. "What kind of demon?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. An entirely pointless gesture considering she couldn't see me. "An infernal one."

"Oh." A beat. "So... from Hell?"

"...Where else would infernal demons come from?"

"I don't know." She sounded genuinely thoughtful. "Cleveland?"

I stared at the back of her head. For a species that claimed intelligence, humans had an astonishing ability to disappoint.

She continued walking as though casually conversing with invisible demons happened every Wednesday. "So... why can't I see you?"

"Because I don't wish to be seen."

"You can do that?"

"Obviously."

"Oh." Another pause. "So where did you come from?"

I sighed. "Hell."

"No, I mean... how did you get here?"

That, unfortunately, was a much better question. "Your town's idiotic punch."

"The Frankenpunch?"