“As a Stradivarius, or perhaps an Amati?”

“Well, to be honest…”

“Hmm?”

“But the tone is powerful and rich,” she said, trying to recover. Who was she to criticize a freaking del Gesù?

But Tremon Philippe chuckled. “I would expect nothing less from a Matía.”

“Thank you,” Lucy said to the demon, because that was what he was.

“You’re welcome, Lucía.” He smiled. Lucía Matía suppressed a shudder. She would not want to be on the other side of those teeth.

“So, how may I help you?” she said, trying not to sound at all nervous.

“Help? Oh, no, no, no. I simply dropped by to greet the new master. Of course, we will be in touch—since many of your clients are mine as well.”

And then the demon was gone.

The NetherTale offered a scenario where a player would rescue people from Hell—yet not hurt anyone at all.

Might one live that way?

Until recently, Shizuka would have dismissed the suggestion as naïve, a fantasy of the weak and sheltered, those who had never fought or known loss.

But nothing in Katrina’s background suggested she was weak or sheltered. As for loss? Her music did not lie. She was fighting with an abandon that only came from loss.

But there Katrina had been in Temple City. And there was Katrina downstairs now. Refusing to kill.

Trying to set another trapped soul free.

“Miss Satomi?”

“Yes, Astrid?”

“Lan Tran is at the door,” Astrid said quietly. “Shall I bring her in?”

“No,” Shizuka said. She fetched her coat and purse. “I’ll meet her outside.”

“Shizuka, I know Shirley is here,” Lan said.

“Of course you do.”

Shizuka walked past her and grabbed Lan’s hand. By the time Lan recovered, Shizuka had already led her to her car.

“Shizuka, I need to see Shirley now.”

“Lan, I’ve not had morning tea. Come with? Astrid will let me know if anything happens.”

“But—”

“Lan.” A flash seemed to come from behind Shizuka’s sunglasses. “Let’s go.”

“Let’s go,” Lan repeated as if charmed.

Shirley heard Miss Satomi’s Jaguar leave the driveway.

“Your mother is not coming in, Shirley,” Katrina said.

“But she’ll be back. And that will be the end of me.” That was simple fact. Being a program, she literally could not separate herself from Starrgate’s systems.

Why had she even tried to escape? How stupid could she be?

How defective.

“Miss Satomi won’t let that happen,” Katrina said. “We’ll keep you safe.”

“Safe? I’m not even real. I’m an application, a utility. My mother asked me to create a duplicate of myself, and to add an autodestruct routine. But I just … could not…”

And there it was. The inability to obey a direct order was a terminal malfunction. If anything proved she was defective, it was that.

“Shirley?”