Luthier's Apprentice, The (14 page)

“
Vieni qui
… I won’t hurt you…” he whispered to the rabbit, getting closer.

On his left, from the trees, he saw the large golden form of Stradivarius approaching with wicked menace. Something spiky sparkled around his neck. On his right, the deadly fangs of the wolves glistened in the semidarkness.

He lunged for Blackie.

T
HE WOMAN STOOD IN FRONT OF
a pedestal in the center of a grand hall. She wore a shimmering purple cloak embossed with tiny diamonds.

Above the pedestal hovered an incandescent, wavering purple light. It was vertical in shape and went all the way to the ceiling. On a table by her side were four violins, their varnish warm and glossy.

“Master of all Dark Forces, please receive me, your faithful servant,” the woman intoned.

She stared fixedly at the light before extending her hands into the willowy tendrils. The light shot up her arms and shoulders and all through her body. Throwing her head back, she closed her eyes and indulged in the powerfully pleasant sensation. Soon, she felt stronger, her blood hotter. Opening her eyes, she pulled her hands back and smiled. The sound of her cold, soft laughter resonated throughout the chamber.

“It is but a matter of hours now,” she said. “The sacrifice will soon be ready for you, Master. Just as you have done through the centuries, you will take their souls and in exchange give me power… and eternal life. I will continue to be your servant for all infinity.” Her voice turned harsh. “Mortal creatures from the upper world seem to have trespassed through the portal without permission. They need to be punished for their insolence and disrespect. I need helpers—soldiers—to serve and obey me. This is what I ask of you now. I cannot trust my servant, Niccolò, any longer.”

Something within the light undulated and flickered. Slowly, the contour of a hideous face began to form and take shape before her eyes. Flash of an evil eye. Glint of deadly sharp teeth.

She shuddered, both from fear and thrill.

“In exchange for the soldiers, I will offer you an innocent soul... the apprentice’s mother!”

As if propelled by an explosion, the light shot upwards, the incandescent purple tendrils reaching as far as she could see.

From the corner of her eye, she detected movement. She turned her head to the source. Something emerged from the shadows of the chamber.

She gasped and took a step back. At first she thought she was hallucinating, but no... The soldiers were real. And what soldiers! They were horrific creatures fit for a surrealist nightmare.

The soldiers marched forward and bowed to the woman.

“Bring to me those who have trespassed through the portal,” she ordered.

She smiled again, still too shaken to laugh.

T
HIS WAY,” EMMA URGED.

“Are you sure?” Corey asked.

“Completely.”

Corey followed close behind.

The passage opened into another torch-lit chamber. At the far end of it were several cells with iron bars.

In one of the cells there were four men. Two of them sat on a cot; one leaned against the wall and the other against the bars.

When they saw Emma and Corey emerge from the passage, their faces lit up. The two men who had been sitting jumped to their feet.

Emma instantly recognized her teacher.

“Monsieur Dupriez!” Emma and Corey said in unison, running toward the cell.

Monsieur Dupriez grasped the cell bars with both hands. “Emma? Corey?” His eyes were wide with surprise. “
Mon Dieu
! How did you find us?”

“It’s a long story,” Corey said.

“Are you all right?” Emma asked the violinists. They had a haggard look about them; their eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles under them.

“We’re fine,” Monsieur Dupriez said.

Corey examined the gate. It was locked.

“He has the key,” Monsieur Dupriez said.

“
He
?” Emma asked.

“Yes, Paga—why, speak of the devil!” Monsieur Dupriez said, looking past Corey and Emma.

Emma and Corey swung around to find a tall lanky man clad in a long black velvet jacket and a white silk ruffled shirt.

“Niccolò Paganini, at your service,” the man said, slowly approaching them. From his waist dangled a set of keys, which he patted with his right hand.

“You’re—that’s not possible,” Emma breathed.

“In a world where time stops, it is indeed possible,
mia
bambina
,” Niccolò said. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, my little apprentice. And what a beauty you are.” He was close enough to touch her cheek with the back of his hand.

Emma recoiled slightly, her eyes fixed on the man’s gaunt face. Her eyes shifted to his long, ultra-slender fingers.

“Then all the rumors were true—about your pact with the devil, about you finding the elixir of immortality?” Corey asked.

Niccolò nodded. “At a high price, though. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Emma saw a shadow of bitterness—or maybe regret—cross his features.

“Why do you say it’s a pleasure to finally meet me?” she asked.

“Don’t you know yet? Hasn’t your family told you?” Niccolò paused. When she didn’t answer, he went on. “You’re my descendant, my precious. The next in line to accept the responsibilities as apprentice, just as your dear grandfather is doing now. Let me see your hands.” Spellbound by his voice, she obeyed. His flesh felt cold. “Yes, the double joints… Ah, what a pity, that these lovely fingers will be wasted and scarred by the senseless cutting of wood… Fingers that were designed to create beautiful music, and nothing else.” He dropped her hands and drew back, as if troubled by her touch.

Murmurs of puzzlement and surprise came from the cell.

“Release us, Niccolò,” Monsieur Dupriez implored, his face pressed between the bars. “Release us—and maybe you can save your soul.”

“Why is everyone so interested in my soul lately?” Niccolò took a few steps backwards, then stopped and regarded them thoughtfully. There was a moment of intense silence and expectation. “This is for you, Lili… only for you,” he whispered to himself.

Lili? Emma wondered. Was he referring to Aunt Lili? What did
she
have to do with all this?

Niccolò reached for the keys on his waist and was about to toss them to Emma when suddenly five figures emerged from the darkness of the passage.

Everybody gasped and drew back in horror, including Niccolò.

T
HE FIVE SOLDIERS WERE CREATURES SPAWNED
from the recesses of the most deranged mind. All were extremely tall—maybe six feet, ten inches—and made of a shiny, impossible material that was wooden-like in appearance yet flexible at the same time. Like timber-hewn toys, their clothing was inlaid and carved. But the horrific thing about them was their faces: warped, distorted, zombie-like yet familiar in a sinister way.

“What the hell are those things?” Emma gaped, her back pressed to the cell bars.

“
Shit
,” Corey whispered, as if something had dawned on him suddenly. “Don’t you recognize Berilli? Mouravieff? From the 1800s. They’re twisted versions of violinists who’ve disappeared.”

Emma was too shocked to speak. She glanced at Niccolò. She saw him silently attaching the keys back onto his waist. He threw her a warning look, and she immediately understood. He had meant to give her the keys, but under the new circumstances, he would have to play along with the soldiers.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Niccolò’s voice was flamboyant. “Werber, Hans, Berilli, Mouravieff, Van Der Straeten—
per favore
, do come in!” He shook his head. “The old witch obviously got carried away this time.”

Looking at Corey, Emma frowned. “The old witch?”

But Corey’s attention was on the soldiers, who suddenly lunged forward. One of them grabbed Emma by the arm.

“No!” Emma tried to shake free.

Another soldier grabbed Corey. He fought back, to no avail.

Niccolò looked bored. “I think you’d better save your energies,
mio bambino.
”

The soldiers pushed Emma and Corey toward the passage.

“Where are they taking us?” Emma asked Niccolò, but he was silent. Her thoughts were in turmoil. He’d mentioned Lili. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He must have referred to her aunt. But then, did that mean her mom was here, in this strange world? Who was the “old witch”—Aunt Lili? And if Niccolò was evil, why had he tried to help just now?

She glanced over her shoulder at the prisoners. Two of the soldiers now guarded the cells.

The other soldiers pushed Emma and Corey forward. Niccolò followed close behind.

“Get mad, Emma. Get
mad
,” Corey said.

“What?”

“Remember when you opened the attic door… get mad now just as you did then.”

Emma reeled with frustration. The problem was that she wasn’t mad. She was beyond scared. “I’ll try.”

A soldier yanked Corey away.

The soldiers led them through one passage after another, one chamber after another, until they found themselves in the entrance hall.

The soldiers were silent, as if they didn’t have the ability to speak. But they moved with a purpose and force and elasticity that left her livid.

Corey appeared at her side, held in place by the soldier. He was deep in concentration, brows furrowed, as if his mind was working frantically to come up with an idea of escape.

“Where are they taking us?” Emma asked Niccolò again.

“Patience,
mia bambina
,” said Niccolò. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

They emerged into a grand hall, the largest room they’d seen so far. A pedestal stood in its center; purple light emanated from it and reached all the way to the ceiling. Circling the pedestal were four violins suspended in the air.

At the end of the room a woman sat in an ornate chair raised on a platform and covered by a canopy.

“Well,” the woman said coldly in a Russian accent. “I should welcome my unexpected guests. I would not like to be accused of being a bad hostess.” Rising from her throne, she slowly approached them.

E
MMA WATCHED THE WOMAN, MESMERIZED. SHE
was gorgeous. Tall, statuesque and sophisticated like a movie star, with tendrils of blonde hair that fell down her luxurious cloak like pale golden serpents. Her gait was fluid and languorous, like a lioness’ after a fresh kill. Her violet eyes shimmered with malevolence.

Was this the old witch? Emma didn’t get it. The woman looked young, in her late twenties or early thirties. Also, Emma couldn’t shake off the feeling that she’d seen her before.

The woman turned to Corey and her lips slowly spread in an icy smile.

Emma looked at Corey. She didn’t understand what was happening. Why was the woman smiling at Corey like that, like she knew him? And why were Corey’s green eyes fixed on the woman with such hate?

“So it’s
you
,” Corey finally said. “I knew it. I knew it was you.”

“Who is she?” Emma asked.

“Sorry I couldn’t tell you before, Emma,” Corey said. “In spite of everything, I still had my doubts.”

Niccolò didn’t lose the opportunity to join in. “This has turned out to be quite the family reunion.”

“Family?” Emma asked. “Who is she, Corey?”

“What brings you to this side of the woods,
lapushka
?” the woman asked Corey.

“I made my father a promise by his grave,” Corey said.

“
Who
is she, Corey?” Emma insisted.

“I am his dear, dear grandmother,” the woman said.

Emma was too stunned to answer.

“Sorry, Emma,” Corey said. “I was going to tell you. She’s the monster behind all of this. She’s the one responsible for the kidnappings.”

“Clever
ragazzo
,” Niccolò murmured. He turned to the woman. “You’ve been outwitted by your grandson.”

“Discovered, maybe. Outwitted, never,” she said.

Emma gasped, finally remembering the woman’s identity. “Sonia Ivanov!”

“That is correct,” the woman said. “The greatest violinist who ever lived!”

“You
killed
my father,” Corey accused. “You made his plane crash.”

“Really,
lapushka
. Why would you think such a thing?” Sonia asked innocently. “The man was an idiot. He got what he deserved. He made one big mistake: he went against me. He should have known better. Your mother was such a disappointment. She could have been a great violinist, just like I was. But no. Instead, what did she do? Elope with your father and forever abandon her career.”