“I—I’ll get started on dinner right away.”

Miss Satomi took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes.

“Astrid, tonight maybe just some miso soup.”

“Of course, Miss Satomi.” Astrid tried to not seem alarmed. “Why don’t you take a nap?”

“No … I’ll be in the backyard.”

“Yes, Miss Satomi.”

Astrid went to the kitchen and heated some water. To that, she added bonito stock, sliced radish, seaweed, Miss Satomi’s favorite white miso, a beaten egg, and finally some sliced fish cake.

Miso soup. Miss Satomi asked for it only when she was ill or exhausted. Of course she would be! She had returned from Tokyo to a hometown she once had left forever, all for the promise of a seventh soul.

Miss Satomi had staked everything on this move, on the Grohl girl. She had been so hopeful, so sure.

But if this wasn’t the right student, either?

Soon the kitchen filled with the gentle aroma of the simmering soup. Astrid dropped the heat to low, so it would be ready when Miss Satomi returned.

And then Astrid waited. For now, that was all that she could do.

No, no, no …

Shizuka walked outside to her backyard. Automatically, she circled the persimmon tree and avoided an old uneven cobblestone next to the fish pond.

“Tremon.”

In the fishpond, the same koi glided among the water lilies. Beyond that, the same hill dropped away, the same unending vista of homes, cars, and places to drive them.

“Tremon?”

So this Grohl girl wanted to be like Kiana Choi. Really? She would damn herself for that? Why be like someone else? Where was the vision? The genius? As an agent of damnation, Shizuka understood she would be dealing in the tedium of human weakness. But there had to be more.

“Tremon! Where are you?”

“You don’t need to shout, Shizuka. I’m right here.”

Mouth breathing. Dress shoes. A plodding half cadence that she knew far too well.

To some, Tremon Philippe might have appeared stately, cultured. However, Shizuka had always thought of her facilitator as a particularly well-dressed toad.

“What was that? I traveled across an ocean to hear that? You told me she was special!”

Shizuka paused. This was not entirely his fault. She, too, had been wrong. Also, with Tremon, she needed to be cautious. People had named her the Queen of Hell, but Tremon was a demon, a real one.

“I’m sorry, Tremon. That was my frustration talking. It has been a long and disappointing day.”

“Of course, Shizuka. No harm done. But I don’t understand. Shouldn’t we be celebrating? After all, the Grohl girl is brilliant, beautiful, and hungry.”

“I told you, that is not enough this time.”

“Time? Time is exactly what you don’t have.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Shizuka walked to the fish pond. She stared at the koi swimming silently in the dark.