Tamiko turned, shrugged, and went back to her violin.

Ellen Seidel watched as Shizuka Satomi’s newest protégé waved once more to her student before being spirited away.

This was the girl who was having issues with double stops?

She looked at Tamiko, her star student, now fidgeting with her tuning pegs. There were times when a teacher should rally her student, encourage her, remind her to believe in her talent. This was one of those times.

But as she searched her years of experience, her finest speeches, her most powerful words, Ellen Seidel realized there was nothing she could say.

Katrina held on to Astrid’s arm until they found Miss Satomi. Katrina had so many things to say, she had no idea how to begin.

“I’m sorry, I screwed up at the beginning. The stage lights were shining in my eyes, and then I gave Astrid the wrong signal, and—”

“Come here,” her teacher said, because none of that was important.

Because, in that moment, Miss Satomi hugged her, placed her hands on either side of her head and looked into her eyes.

“Tonight, you get a star.”

Finally, the applause died down. But rather than preparing for the next performance, people milled about as if still entranced by whatever world Katrina’s music had taken them to.

Many were looking at their watches, rolling up their blankets, and folding up their lawn chairs.

And Musician #7, flutist Russell Kim, was nowhere to be seen.

“What’s happening? Where’s number seven?” Ellen asked. “Landon, do something!”

Landon Fung glanced around and shrugged. Apparently the Kim boy had left. But what could be done?

“I am going to play.”

“What?”

“I am going to play.”

Tamiko walked past her teacher, up the stairs. She looked to the sky. She looked to the empty place where Shizuka had been. Then she walked onto the stage.

Of course Russell Kim quit. Of course he’d been frightened. He’d probably had a proper piece ready, a wonderful piece.

That’s what all of them had tonight.

But now? Tamiko looked past the wall of dark into the audience. She smiled even at those who were ignoring her.

Russell Kim was weak. Tamiko was merely devastated. Russell Kim would wake up tomorrow, and it would be a new day.

But for Tamiko Grohl?

Paganini’s Caprice no. 5. Composed by Niccolò Paganini, the Devil’s Musician himself. Many of the era’s greatest virtuosi had thought Paganini caprices were too difficult for mortal hands, that his playing alone was proof of consort with the Devil.

Tamiko remembered the first time she had heard a Paganini caprice. Actually, it was not live; it was a video. And actually, she barely remembered the music. What she recalled was Kiana Choi, the most beautiful creature she had ever seen.