She could have traced the carvings of the scroll, measured the notches in the f-holes, the heights of the arching, the placements of the dorsal pin.

But there was no need. She already knew.

“T-they match,” she managed to say.

“Don’t they?” Tremon Philippe said.

And with that, the demon packed his violin and his bow, and was gone.

Lucía Amati looked at her violin, then at all the other violins, the other instruments that her hands had touched. Her hands, her father’s hands, her grandfather’s before, and before them generations of sons … and at least one other daughter?

Amati?

Yes. Of course they were. Of course! In fact, why hadn’t she noticed this before?

She grabbed her phone and called her son.

“Andrea! I have something tell you!”

“Yes?” Why was she using his Italian name?

“I just found out—I just…”

“Mom?”

What had she wanted to say?

It must not have been that important. “Um—I forgot. Well, I’m coming home in a couple of hours, so could you reheat the lasagna? In the oven this time, not the microwave?”

“Sure thing!”

Tremon Philippe chuckled. He had told this story to the Matías for generations, and each time was as entertaining as the last.

Hell gets too much credit. The greatest curses come from the Other Place.

The demon walked toward Starrgate Donut. And then he kept walking. It was good to walk once in a while. Even a demon needed to mind his health. Besides, he was going to be teaching again very soon, and it had been nearly fifty years since he last had a student of his own.

Shizuka Satomi.

You were quite the surprise, weren’t you? “Hell shall be avenged sevenfold,” the contract said. Seven souls was the deal. You gave us six. A contract is a contract … but a profit is still a profit.

And those souls. Each one exquisite. Perfectly flavored, simply bursting with despair. In fact, after your contract, Hell had intended to offer you a full-time position. Not that you would have accepted it, of course.

Though, to be honest, I never understood how you believed that you had lost your music in the first place. What do you think made each of those six souls so exquisite, their suffering so terrible? Any demon can drag six souls to Hell.

But your souls, dear Shizuka, even without their violins … to this day, oh how they sing!

But enough reminiscing. Shizuka Satomi was gone, and Hell was as hungry as usual. Tremon took out his phone and looked at his GPS.

The demon wriggled his hooves in his shoes. All would be well.

Tamiko Giselle Grohl was not so far away.

Wake up! Ynez, wake up!