Shizuka donned her robe and walked downstairs, then into the backyard. The air still smelled of spring. By streetlights and the moonlight, she could see the peach blossoms and plum blossoms opening to the sky.

Why wasn’t her student blossoming, as well? At the park, Katrina’s Schradieck had been magnificent. And, later, from a room full of very fine violins, she had the ear to choose Martha.

Yet today, she wouldn’t have been able to follow Suzuki Book Two.

Shizuka had known that Katrina would be unlike her previous students—that was why she was chosen. But nothing had prepared Shizuka for this. Even now the girl was in the practice hall, fumbling over the same basic exercises they had worked on all day.

Shizuka was trying. Katrina was trying. But it seemed as if their progress was going backward. And this was no time for backward.

“Have you tried tape on the fingerboard?” a voice asked.

“Tremon.” She tried to not appear surprised.

“I’m sorry. Am I intruding? I did not mean to interrupt your thoughts—I was simply in the neighborhood when I thought I heard a small animal screaming for help. Imagine my surprise when I realized that horrific noise came from your student, the one you so carefully chose!”

“This is not a good time for jokes, Tremon.”

“I could say the same to you. Our agreement was that you deliver the souls of seven brilliant violinists, not open a charity for homeless queer youth.”

“What are you talking about?”

Tremon shrugged. “Shizuka, surely you are aware that your choice is unexpected. I must admit that even I was baffled. Until I remembered that you are still human, after all.”

“Of course I am. So?”

“So you’ve condemned six souls. Each was brilliant, glorious. And each projected their final outrage, their agony—with perfect intonation and impeccable voicing—squarely and completely at you. I’m a demon; the dying wrath of a few humans would be neither here nor there for me. But for you? Your pain would be unbearable.

“Now, suppose there were a lost runaway, not someone pampered and privileged, but one for whom any passing kindness would be treasured. Give her a hot meal, a bath, a chance to play music—that would reduce your guilt, no? You might even tell yourself afterward that you did nothing wrong—after all, her life was a dead end, anyway.”

“Tremon, I’m not even going to respond to that.”

“Of course you won’t, dear. But it has been over ten years since Yifeng left you. Such love! He said he lived for you on national TV. Remember broadcast TV?”

“I do. And that wasn’t love. That was weakness. Moreover, do not forget that I delivered Yifeng Zheng to Hell myself.”

“Yes, you did, Shizuka. Of course. And I would never think you might be cheating us.”