"That's a rather personal question, Mr. Cavanaugh," Natália volleyed, "Demons have their reasons for doing things and they are seldom the business of anyone outside of a commune." It wasn't in a contract or anything that compelled her to keep such matters quiet, but more loyalty to her kind. Anyone not a demon had no business learning of what business demons conducted. It was bad enough that some half-demons existed. They were good for slave-work but their existence was an ugly smudge. Mongrels, her father called them once.
Natália gave a smile with her reply, pleasant and almost warm. But there was a coldness to it too. Like she placed a door between him and the answer he inquired of and she threw away the key. Mr. Cavanaugh was wiser to not know why she was there. It was incredibly doubtful that a teacher would aid her in the carefully crafted and meticulous revenge she had the next four years to figure out.