Hainan chicken is poached, traditionally served with crushed ginger and green onion. Because it lacks the exotic ritual of sushi, the heat factor of Thai curry, or the voluptuous rush of xiaolongbao—it is a food with an appeal that most non-Asians don’t understand.

However, done right, the welcoming flavor and moist oiliness of the poached Hainan chicken melds delightfully with the fragrant and chewy rice. The steamy aroma is hearty, yet delicate, while the ginger and green onion relish unites the dish with a pungent, refreshing flourish.

And the Hainan chicken at Caputo’s was even better than that.

“It is very good,” he finally admitted. The demon wiped his mouth. “But what is going through your mind?”

“Tremon, you are aware that the Von Stresemann Competition just concluded in Leipzig last week?”

“Of course.”

“Who won?”

Tremon hesitated.

“Exactly,” Shizuka said. “Okay, here’s an easy one. Who won the Paganini?”

“A young man from Korea.”

“Very good. Name?”

“How is this relevant?”

“Relevant? It’s his name. The next musician wins the competition. Then the next musician. And the next musician after that. Our contracts are clear: we take their souls, and in return, we promise them immortality. But how can we promise that if we can’t even remember a musician’s name?”

“Hell would not”—his voice was molten lead—“appreciate this line of thinking.”

“Tremon, I went to high school with the second Vincenzo Caputo. I knew Vinnie Caputo, and now here’s Papa Caputo.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Even as we sit here, people are waiting in line outside. Times have changed, the food has changed. But people still know Caputo’s.”

The demon tore another bite of Hainan chicken. He chewed as if deep in thought.

“Very well,” he finally said.

“You agree, then?”

“No. But from what I’ve seen tonight, your brilliance, your arrogance, your frustrating honesty—are all still there. In short, I still find you interesting.

“So prepare this student well, however you best decide. Then give her the bow and deliver her to me. Do that, and the world will hear your music again. But if you fail, there is nowhere in existence where I won’t find you. And, interesting or not, I will gladly drag you to Hell myself.”

“There will be no reason for that, I assure—” Shizuka stopped, for the demon was gone.

And of course he had picked up the tab.

Lucy examined one of the ribs from the Chinese violin. The grain was almost perfectly parallel, which made it strong enough to shave just a little more.

“There, doesn’t that feel better?”

The rib seemed to dance in her hand.

“Now we need to work on your twin,” she said.