Light From Uncommon Stars(53)

Windee shrugged and went back to work.

Every few days, Aunty Floresta would motion Edwin to the bus. Often they sampled some sort of bread product, but it might also be pork blood soup with fresh mung bean sprouts and crispy basil, or crispy skewers of fried stinky tofu drenched in garlic and sweet soy sauce. Once it was a fresh-squeezed sugar cane juice. Another time it was corn on the cob, roasted on a stick and slathered in half-melted butter.

All the while, Aunty would be talking to people on the bus, on the street, at the store. She would chat with people pushing carts, holding shopping bags.

And then, she would light up and tell Edwin of the next place that they must go.



* * *



Finally, Katrina had a voice that was beautiful. Martha had been wonderful, and she was very grateful, but with Aubergine, her voice was finally her own.

She cradled Aubergine and quietly tiptoed downstairs from her bedroom, and into her new studio.

Her studio. She stopped. Her violin? Her studio?

As if. As if any of this could be believed.

All it would take would be a change in mind, a change in word, and she’d be on her own once more.

She?

Katrina’s smile faded immediately, as if reality had returned.

She thought of her body, the chromosomes it lacked, the voice that it could not hold. Sure, someone could hold her, kiss her, treat her like a girl today. But tomorrow, that same person could say she was crazy, a half-woman freak.

Hadn’t Evan done just that?

So what about her was true? What could be trusted?

Her father had hit her, even kicked her. But her mother said he was such a good man. And besides, they were her parents. What did Katrina do to make such a good man hurt her so badly?

She had told herself it was because she was transgender. She had told herself that it was because she was ugly, creepy, stupid, dishonest.

But what if everything she had told herself was a lie? What if it wasn’t about what she was, but that she was? What if something about her was intrinsically, inherently wrong?

She began to shake. She closed her eyes and clenched her hands.

Then she remembered that her hands were not empty. She relaxed her grip, and as the Evah Pirazzis came off the fingerboard, they made the softest, gentlest cry.

“Are you in distress?” a voice said.

Katrina almost dropped her violin.

“What?”

Katrina noticed the projector was glowing faintly blue. Slowly, Shirley’s form solidified.

“I am sorry to have surprised you. But my mother was concerned, so I came to check on your welfare.”

Shirley floated to Katrina.

“I had intended to merely observe. But since you are in immediate distress, I must act now. Please put the violin down.”

“What?” Katrina held the violin to her and backed away.

“So, you’ve already begun to identify with that object. I am sorry. This is most likely due to the control of Shizuka Satomi. She has done this to others before. But once we alter your memory, you should be fine.”

“Miss Satomi!”

Katrina tried to run to the door, but Shirley floated in front of her.

“My mother said not to perform any procedures without your consent. However, you do not appear to be thinking correctly.”

“You’re not the first one to say that.”

Shirley extended her hand. It began to glow.

“Don’t worry, this will only hurt momentari—”

Suddenly the doorway exploded in flames.

“Miss Satomi!”

“Katrina! Get behind me.”

“I’ll be back,” Shirley said flatly. Shirley’s image blinked and was gone.

And then it returned. Shirley looked around her, confused.

“No. You can’t leave. I don’t care where you or your family comes from. This is my house.”

Whatever this being was, the Queen of Hell possessed a type of jamming ability. Without a deflector or cloak, Shirley was trapped. But no matter. She needed to focus on Katrina. Shirley had to save her now.

“Katrina, there’s no record of this woman’s music.”

“Yes, I know. It’s because of the music industry or something.”

“No, you don’t understand. There is literally no record of your teacher playing violin. No video, no tape. Not a single recording.”

Shizuka bristled. “I could have told you that.”

“However, you are quite a heated topic in another group of forums.”

Shirley projected a screen in front of them.

“Some of the data isn’t readily accessible by your search engines. Fortunately, I can search your Internet directly. And I found mention of you here. And here. And here, on sites that discuss serial killings, demonology, and the dealings of your Hell.

“As a scientist, I tend to discount the metaphysical, but a quick search revealed that many of their assertions were undeniable. And, Shizuka Satomi, they were not comforting.”

The screen shifted to a group of images.

“Katrina, these are your teacher’s former students.”

Katrina stared at the images. They were … police reports? Obituaries? Morihei Sanada, suicide by gunshot. Claire Burke, unsolved, multiple stab wounds. Lilia Tourischeva, missing, possibly murdered. Sabrina Eisen, drug overdose, possible suicide. Kiana Choi, found dead while institutionalized. Yifeng Zheng, unsolved, possible suicide by self-immolation.