And she created worlds.
As far as Paganini’s Caprice no. 5? Paganini was indeed smiling at her, but not because he approved.
He was smiling because he was safe.
It was said that Paganini would make his performances memorable by breaking strings as he played. And though Tamiko Giselle Grohl’s four strings survived the night, many in the audience swore they heard something breaking all the same.
* * *
That night, Katrina looked at her videos. She walked from her laptop. She went to the bathroom. She went back to her laptop and refreshed her page.
In that space, her Axxiom video had 108 more views.
And the comments?
“You are amazing!”
“I couldn’t stop crying.”
“H-how did you even? It was like someone finally heard me.”
Katrina laughed. She spun. She felt happy. She felt proud.
Then she felt her father kicking in the door.
She shuddered. She folded in on herself and rocked back and forth. She didn’t deserve happiness like this, laughter like this.
Freak! Abomination!
Why are you even alive?
Faggot, just die.
Katrina hugged her violin. And against what played in her head, she gave her music again, and again, and again.
Shizuka sat in her backyard. One afternoon, Katrina had left a chair outside, and it was so nice that Shizuka decided to keep it there.
Summer was here; the scent of loquats now wafted throughout the neighborhood. When she was young, Mr. Kakuda’s tree always had loquats. Mr. Kakuda’s tree had long ago become old and rotted, but a new loquat tree belonged to the Lieus. And the Contrerases had two. No matter what, this neighborhood would always plant and grow.
The kitchen screen door opened.
Astrid poured tea for Shizuka, then a cup for herself. For a long time, the two sat wordlessly above the lights of Monterey Park.
“I was with my grandmother,” Astrid finally said. “She was singing a lullaby.”
Ich gh?re ?s Gl?ggli es lütet so nett
De Tag isch vergange jetz gang ich is Bett
Im Bett tuen i b?te und schlafe d?nn ii
De Papi im Himmel wird au bi mir si
Astrid gathered the teacups. “Miss Satomi, I hope you were somewhere beautiful, too. Good night.”
Shizuka heard the patio door slide open, then shut. She closed her eyes and listened again. In an outdoor concert, in her first performance, with a horrible introduction, stage lights shining in her eyes …
Katrina had done that.
When had any of her previous students done that? Who among them had connected with their listeners like that?
When had she?
Did Katrina realize what she had done? Yes, she had trained so hard—and of course she heard the applause. But did she really know?
Could she?
After all, in the lights, it is very difficult to see.
Shizuka thought to her own career, to all those times spent hoping, praying that after the performance, after the encore, people might remember even a little of her music.
Yet no matter how she played, when she was finished, everything seemed to go back to just the way it was.
But now, far away from the stage, Shizuka could see the audience, hear what Katrina’s music had done—and what it continued to do.
In the darkness and silence, she realized that Katrina’s music might be with them even now.
And Katrina’s was a music that was not so different from her own.
Katrina Nguyen.
Shizuka had been right. Well, of course she’d been right, but believing and knowing are two different things. Katrina had entered that stage as a student. She had left it as a musician.
And with Katrina at this level, there was something else Shizuka knew, as well.
In an ideal world, Shizuka would never let anyone else finish her training. But in an ideal world, she wouldn’t have become the Queen of Hell.
There was no reason to put it off any longer. It was time to prepare Katrina Nguyen for Tremon.
And then it would be Shizuka’s turn to retake the stage.
23
“Here, Andrew. See the f-holes—curve should glide, then fall, in one smooth—”
Conversation stopped as the doorbell jingled. Lucy looked at her watch.
“Mr. Zacatecas—”
But it wasn’t Mr. Zacatecas.
Shizuka Satomi?
She seemed in a very good mood. Lucy was tempted to ask if she’d had a nice date, but she was still Shizuka Satomi, and one does not casually ask the Queen of Hell about her relationship with the donut lady.
“Lucía, I was wondering,” Shizuka asked lightly, “do you possess your family’s client records?”