Light From Uncommon Stars(112)

“As I said, this bow is not for you,” Miss Satomi said.

What? What was going on?

Wasn’t the bow still in her hand?

But before she could say a word, the door flew open once more.

“What did you do?” shouted Tremon Philippe.

Shizuka turned to Tremon. “I finally fooled you, you old toad. You were so focused on Katrina that you stopped paying attention to me.”

Tremon lurched for the bow Miss Satomi held. But before he could reach her, Shizuka snapped it like a dusty bone. Broken pieces fell to the floor in a cacophony of shattered voices and splintered songs.

Katrina shuddered. It sounded nothing like the music she had played.

Tremon bent to pick up the smoldering shards.

“Shizuka Satomi, I should burn you where you stand,” he murmured.

Lan reached for her blaster, but Shizuka held her arm.

“Oh hush, Tremon. Stop being dramatic. Just take the bow to Lucía Matía. She’d appreciate the business. Also, since the contract says nothing about early delivery, and today is still the fourteenth, my time is not over yet.”

The demon clenched his many teeth.

“Yes. You have until midnight. How very cliché. I should tell you how much I am looking forward to dragging your misbegotten soul to Hell.”

Then the demon disappeared in a furious gout of flame.

“Wait—this isn’t the real bow? Miss Satomi … how?”

“Well, I hadn’t expected you to go rifling through my bedroom. But in case you did…”

“That bow was easier to replicate than a donut,” Lan Tran said.

Shizuka smiled. Originally she had intended for Lucía Matía to create the duplicate bow, just as Vuillaume had so perfectly reproduced Paganini’s il Cannone. But the Matía girl had grown too close to Tremon.

Luckily, Lan had provided another option.

The bow was fake? But if that was true, didn’t that mean everything she played, every heartbeat she felt from the audience, every second of applause …

“Yes, Katrina,” said the Queen of Hell. “Everything tonight was you.”

And with that, Shizuka felt her bones grow heavy. She just needed to lie down for a bit. Yes, that would be nice.

“Miss Satomi? Miss Satomi!”

Shizuka blinked. Why was she on the ground? Did she faint?

“I’m okay—just a little dizzy.”

“Here, Miss Satomi, have some water.”

Shizuka sipped some water and nodded.

“Help me up?”

Katrina lifted her to her feet. She seemed lighter than before. Then she looked down.

“M-Miss Satomi?”

Shizuka realized what had happened immediately. “What—this? Well, I am seventy-eight years old.”

“You’re still beautiful,” her student said.

“Liar. Anyway, let’s go home. I believe Astrid will have made refreshments.”

She nodded to Lan, who pressed a button on her phone. Beneath her cloaking device, they left quickly and undisturbed.



* * *



Astrid was startled to see Shizuka, but quickly gleaned what had happened. She brought tea and trays of cold cuts and crackers and other snacks. There was even wine.

Shizuka paused. “Deviled eggs?”

“Oh, I went to Costco and they were on sale and—oh goodness! I’m so sorry!”

“It’s fine, Astrid, it’s fine.”

Like the family they had become, they talked into the evening.

After discussing Katrina’s performance in detail, Shizuka spoke of her past. Katrina had heard parts of these stories before, but Shizuka had been speaking as a teacher. Now?

Little details appeared. Kiana’s love of macaroni potato salad and Best Foods Mayonnaise. Claire’s ever-present cough drops and scarf. The many times Lilia slept with a rival before a competition.

“I still can’t believe how they managed to keep their bows straight the next day. Ah, to be young.”

Katrina laughed and listened, and though Miss Satomi’s body now showed its true age, her life seemed to be rekindling before Katrina’s eyes.

“Why did you save me?”

“You honestly don’t know?”

Katrina shook her head.

“One day, you’ll have a student, and I think you’ll understand.”

And then Astrid brought her Shizuka her violin.

“Miss Satomi? It’s time.”

Lan helped her up. They walked to the fishpond, to the backyard overlooking Monterey Park.

When Shizuka had told Astrid she would like to play one last time, Astrid had placed seats in the yard, and a little stage, backlit by the glow of lights below.

And as she adjusted her violin, her Katarina Guarneria felt—warm?

Welcome home, child, it seemed to say.

Shizuka looked up to see Katrina and Lan, Astrid—and Shirley?

“Is everything ready?” Katrina asked.

Shirley nodded and stretched her hands outward. For an instant, the holographic projector glowed more brightly. Then Shizuka saw nothing but blackness.

No, wait—this was not darkness at all. She was bathed in light.

What? Stage lights? This was … West Berlin? The Philharmonie?

The lights were the same, the air was the same, even her heart felt the same. She looked behind her. An orchestra?