Truth or Demon by Kathy Love

was hard to see the place as anything other than peaceful.
    As if reading Killian’s mind, Poppy said, “Maybe we should have waited to explore this place in the evening or on a rainy day. I’m afraid the stories will sound sort of lame on such a sunny day.”
    “That’s okay. Tell me.”
    “Well, there are several tales surrounding this place. This cemetery is where the most unfortunate citizens of Boston were buried. The poverty-stricken who died from awful diseases and from wretched conditions—”
    As Poppy spoke, weaving the spine-chilling tale of tormented humans who became tortured apparitions forced to walk the earth, tied forever to this one place, Killian lost track of the story. Instead, he found himself lost in watching her face. The widening of her deep brown eyes as she told him of something frightening. The drawing together of her finely arched brows as she talked of something sad. The little wrinkle of her small, pert nose as she mentioned something unsavory.
    He nodded at the appropriate times, pretending the story held him captivated, but it was really her small elfin face that held his attention.
    Despite his earlier assessment, Poppy was really quite cute. More than cute. Lovely, really. He’d have no problem finding a man who would be interested in her. Maybe if she put her hair up—and wore prettier clothes. He bet she’d look really nice in a dress. And heels.
    “It’s said that on moonlit nights the little girl appears. The girl … without a face. Killian?”
    He blinked. “Yeah?”
    “What do you think? Do you think you could make that work?”
    He frowned. What work? The dress and heels? To get a man? Did she somehow know what he was thinking?
    He shook his head slightly, not sure what the right answer was.
    She laughed then, clearly enjoying his confusion. “Were you even listening to the story?”
    “Oh. Yes. Yes, the story.” He nodded his head. “I can definitely make it work. Totally.”
    She smiled, eyeing him as if she still knew he hadn’t heard a word, but she didn’t question him any further. Instead she began to wander around the tombstones, just meandering and looking at the inscriptions, or at least the ones that were still legible.
    Killian followed. Both were silent. The city bustled around them. Cars’ engines, honking horns, the sound of a busy metropolis—all seemed incongruous with their surroundings.
    “Do you mainly focus on ghost stories?” she asked, her gaze on a headstone in front of her.
    “Um, I do a lot with demons, actually. Damned souls. The different circles of Hell, that sort of thing.”
    “Interesting.” She wandered to another stone. “How does someone become so interested in Hell?”
    He shrugged, then moved to stand beside her. “Again, kind of a family pastime.”
    She glanced at him. “You really must have an unusual family.”
    He chuckled at that. “Definitely.”
    When he looked at her, he noticed she was not staring at the grave marker in front of them. Instead, her gaze was locked on him—his mouth, to be exact.
    His smile faded as he wondered what she was thinking. Then she seemed to realize what she was doing, and she looked away, moving closer to inspect the stone.
    He continued to watch her, but neither spoke as they looked at several more graves.
    Finally, she directed her gaze to him again, but almost unwillingly. Pink colored her cheeks, but he wasn’t sure if that was from the sun and spring air or from embarrassment.
    “I’m actually getting a little hungry,” she said, nothing in her voice revealing her true feelings.
    “I can always eat,” he said, which was true. He had a ridiculous appetite—most demons did. Gluttony was a favorite sin. Right after lust.
    She pointed toward where they entered the park. “We can go to Faneuil Hall, that’s another place along the Freedom Trail, and they have a lot of places to eat.”
    He held out a hand. “Lead the way, tour guide.”
    She didn’t smile, and a pang of