She was out of breath by the time she reached the front door, and a lock of her curly hair had escaped her chignon; she hurriedly tucked it back with a hairpin while examining the state of her shoes. Before she’d even touched the door knocker, shaped like a wolf’s head, the heavy door opened, and a wide, ageless face stared at her through small, stern eyes.

“You must be Magdalena. Come in, follow me.”

Nurse Agnes Braun was like the building she lived in: austere and derelict. Her thick grey hair framed a face much younger than Magdalena had expected. A few subtle touches would have been enough to make her look almost beautiful, but perhaps those kinds of concerns were not welcome in the School. Magdalena had been advised not to wear any rouge for her job interview here, to dress plainly, and to gather her hair in a bun.

Nurse Braun was coolly cordial as she showed Magdalena around what she clearly considered her realm—judging by the regal demeanor she adopted as they walked among slabs of marble, gold-plated friezes, and the few valuable furnishings that seemed to be left. But the building appeared otherwise vacant, and so quiet that Magdalena wondered where its residents could be.

The atrium was pristine and decorated with a mosaic representing the Austro-Hungarian Empire’s coat of arms: a double-headed black eagle on a golden background. The walls were adorned with trompe-l’oeil paintings of hunting scenes. The only blemish on this delicate backdrop of pastel colors was a pendulum clock with two Moors carved on either side of the dial; the expressions on their ebony-carved faces were terrifying, their gaping mouths revealing sets of curiously sharp ivory teeth.

Agnes Braun sensed the newcomer’s shock.

“It was made with artifacts from the African continent,” she explained smugly. “It belonged to the director’s family. He thought it would make a nice gift to the School.”

Magdalena thought it was horrifying, but managed to force a polite smile.

Nurse Braun rested her interlaced hands on her stomach and observed Magdalena.

“Do you think it tasteful?” she asked.

The young woman would not meet her eyes.

“I do,” she said, but knew immediately how insincere she sounded.

When she looked up again, she saw a smile spreading over the other woman’s face. Agnes Braun seemed pleased.

“You mustn’t be embarrassed,” she heard her say. “Your little lie tells me you might be suited to this place after all. The School expects devotion, and devotion requires that we forego certain personal liberties—like our freedom of thought. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Magdalena nodded without even realizing it. There was something about this woman that disturbed her. Just like the School itself, something about her felt wrong.

-5-

-5-