Luthier's Apprentice, The (10 page)

“That’s not all,” Emma said. “There was a light coming from under the door, a shimmering purple light.”

“A
purple
light? Are you sure?” Corey asked. “Let’s go.”

They hastened back to the shop. Emma led them inside and up the stairs. On the first landing, they looked up. The big oak door seemed ominous in the semidarkness. Underneath the door was a faint, pulsating purple glow.

“The light was stronger a moment ago,” Emma said.

Annika’s blue eyes looked huge as she held Emma’s hand.

Something black came out of the sitting room. They jumped back in surprise.

“
Oh
my God
…” Emma muttered, her hand on her chest. She sighed. “It’s only Blackie, my rabbit.”

“Is he free to roam about the house?” Corey asked.

“He’s toilet trained,” Emma said.

“Come here, you little darling,” Annika said, gathering the rabbit into her arms.

Their eyes once again shifted to the attic.

“Let’s take a look.” Corey placed his skateboard on the floor.

He took the first step. Emma and Annika followed close behind.

When Corey reached the door, he tried to turn the knob, but it was locked. Crouching, he inspected the strange glow. “There’s a chilly draft, too,” he observed.

“We noticed that the last time, didn’t we, Emma?” Annika said. “But there was no light then.”

Corey flattened himself on the floor and tried to peek underneath the door.

“I’ve done that before,” Emma said. “There’s not enough space to see anything.”

He got to his feet and tried to force the door open, to no avail.

“Damn,” he muttered. There was no key hole to peek into either, as this particular door had the tiny keyhole in the knob itself.

“We’ll have to find a way to break down the door,” Corey said.

Emma pounded on the door with both hands. “Grandpa! Grandpa, are you in there? Please answer me! Open the door! Grandpa,
please
!”

“You’re wasting your time,” Corey said. “Why would he let you in now, when he has kept you away from this place all your life?”

“He’s right,” Annika said.

But Emma ignored them. She was being driven by a power stronger than herself. She had to do something. Anything. The words
Before it’s too late!
flashed in her mind. She kept pounding on the door. She began kicking at it as well, frustration evident in every fiber in her body. She glanced at her friends for help, but they didn’t understand. Their dismayed faces worried her; they even seemed scared of her. Blackie, too, was trembling in Annika’s arms.

Abruptly, the door opened. A shimmering purple glow washed over them.

Sobbing, Emma fell to her knees.

There was a moment of stunned silence as they took in what had just happened.

“Emma...” Annika whispered, quickly making the sign of the cross with her right hand while holding Blackie with her left.

Corey looked confused. Squinting into the light, he helped Emma to her feet. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Emma nodded, momentarily shielding her eyes from the light.

“How did you…?” Corey began.

Emma and Annika looked uneasily at each other.

“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” Annika’s voice shook.

“What’s happening again?” Corey stared at them.

“Emma’s been experiencing psychic powers these past three weeks. We still don’t know why,” Annika said.

Corey’s eyebrows shot upwards. “A violinist, amateur detective, and psychic, too? Cool.”

“Yeah. Remind me to include it on my resume when I go job hunting,” Emma retorted.

One after the other, they stepped into the attic room.

T
HE CAVERNOUS ATTIC LAY IN SHADOWS.
In fact, Emma was unable to see any edges or borders, any walls or windows… the room seem to go on forever.

“Can you see where the room ends?” Emma whispered, as they turned slowly around.

“No…” Annika breathed.

“What
is
this place?” Corey asked.

“I have no idea,” Emma said.

Corey pointed to a spot a few yards away. “The light seems to originate from there.”

As they approached, the air turned colder.

“Look!” Annika pointed.

The area in question was on the floor, but it didn’t look solid. It appeared to have a consistency similar to mercury at room temperature, yet opalescent. Slightly phosphorescent, it bobbed softly in a wave-like motion that was alien as well as scary.

They took several steps toward it, drawn to it in an almost hypnotic manner.

“Be careful,” Corey warned, touching Emma’s arm when she got too close.

“I’m okay,” she said, lightly surprised by his protectiveness. “What do you make of this, Sherlock?”

He shook his head slowly. “This isn’t the time for jokes.” His voice sounded ragged.

“I’m dead serious.”

“Could be a door to another dimension. Some sort of portal,” he suggested.

“Could be a stairway to heaven or… hell.” Annika shuddered.

Emma scowled. “Annika,
please
. Don’t make things worse than they already are.”

“At least now you know why your grandfather didn’t want you to come into this room,” Corey said.

Annika leaned over and craned her neck. “Hey, there’s something in there.” She took a step closer.

“Get away from there,” Emma said. “We still don’t know what that is.”

“But I saw something moving,” Annika insisted. “Look, I see—”

“Annika—no!” Emma shouted.

“Step back!” Corey tried to grab Annika, but he was a second too late.

The purplish, gooey light enveloped Annika from head to toes and pulled her to its core, somehow absorbing her very essence. Blackie, who had been in her arms, was gone too.

Dumbstruck, Emma brought her hands to her face. “No! Oh, my God, no!”

“
Shit
...” Corey breathed.

Emma tried to suppress a sob, but already she could feel tears welling up. “They’re
gone
.”

Corey reached for her. He held her by the shoulders and stared at her. “Listen, Emma. There must be a way to come back. If you saw the door closing, and your grandfather’s gone, that can only mean one thing: he went through this thing—this portal or passageway or whatever it is. This attic has been here all your life, right? So this can’t be the first time your grandfather has gone through it. He’s always returned. There must be a way to come back.”

Emma shook her head. “I have to do something. I have to help her. What if she can’t find her way back? I can’t just stand here and wait and do nothing. She’s like my sister!”

His mouth opened, then closed, as if he weren’t sure what to do or say. He exhaled a breath and raked a hand through his hair. He nodded. “Okay. I agree. Let’s go after her.”

She looked at the center of the light. Its undulating, willowy waves beckoned her. “Where do you think it will lead us?”

“I’m not sure.” He hesitated. “I have a theory. Well, actually, I have two theories. But my intuition tells me these two theories are connected. My problem is that I need to find the key to their connection. As Sherlock used to say, ‘When you follow two separate chains of thought, Watson, you will find some point of intersection which should approximate the truth.’”

Their immediate problem was too serious for her to mock him. “So what you’re saying is that, when we find this point of intersection, we’ll find out the truth?”

Corey nodded. “The whole truth.”

“But what are you referring to, exactly—this portal? Or something else? Are you referring to the missing violinists?” Her eyes locked onto Corey’s as understanding dawned on her. “Wait a minute. Are you implying this portal, as well as Grandpa, are somehow connected with the missing violinists?”

“I’m not saying he’s responsible, only that he could be connected somehow. Think about it. Your grandfather has been dealing with violins all his life, he knew Monsieur Dupriez—not only that, but he made his violin, too. He knew violinists have been disappearing throughout the ages—just what Monsieur Dupriez wrote in his notebook. And now this portal, right inside his house. This is sorcery. Yes, Emma, we’re dealing with magic here—dark magic. Your intuition was right from the start.”

“But Monsieur Dupriez disappeared inside his study. Not here.”

Corey made an impatient gesture with his hands. “All clues point to that, but we don’t know it for a fact. For all we know, maybe a portal opened in his study, and that’s how he disappeared. Maybe that discolouration on the floor was an effect of the portal.”

“I don’t know, Corey… what you just said about Grandpa, that’s not evidence, not even circumstantial. It could be just coincidence. Why do you seem so sure of it? Unless…”

“Unless?”

Suspicion shot through her. Her eyes narrowed. “Am I missing something? Is there something you know that I don’t?”

Corey avoided Emma’s eyes.

“I’m right!” Emma accused. “You
do
know something I don’t.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, but his voice and expression told Emma otherwise.

Abruptly the purple light began to weaken.

“It’s starting to close,” Corey said urgently. “Come on, now is our chance.”

“But—”

“It’s now or never, Emma.” He extended his hand. “
Come on
!”

Emma clutched Corey’s hand. Together they stepped toward the portal.

“At the count of three,” Corey said. “One... two... three!”

Emma held her breath, closed her eyes, and jumped.

She was about to discover Grandpa’s big secret.

U
NDER THE TWILIGHT, DONATELLI MOVED IN
long strides. He carried an axe in one hand. His walk was purposeful.

Half a kilometre away, the woods beckoned with a haunting, deranged melody. Once in a while, the mournful howling of a wolf sliced through the tumultuous music.

Oblivious to the sound of the wolves, Donatelli plodded on, his shoulders hunched as if the weight of the axe was almost too much for him. When he reached the edge of the clearing, he glanced over his shoulder at the violin-shaped fortress. For a moment he looked up at the dark purple sky. His eyes sharp and his lip bitter, he plunged into the forest. The ground, moist and soft, gave under his boots. Birches, maples, and all kinds of trees thrived here, creating a huge canopy above him that turned his surroundings even darker.

As soon as he was deep in the woods, the violin music became stronger. Unable to stand it any longer, he stopped a moment to extract a wad of cotton from his pocket. He made two little cotton balls and inserted one in each ear. The music was like listening to a thousand different violin concertos simultaneously on high fidelity stereo.

The bark of some trees began undulating, forming the vague suggestion of eyes, mouths… This was the part Donatelli hated. Anguished, tortured expressions… souls trapped inside the trees.

When he’d found the birch he needed, he fell to his knees in front of it to say a prayer of forgiveness. His knees felt the cool dampness as the moisture of the earth permeated the cloth of his pants. To one side, he noticed the red eyes of a pair of wolves. The wolves didn’t show their fangs. They never did. From the beginning they had sensed his mission in these enchanted woods, and had left him alone to do his job. Donatelli didn’t mind their presence. In fact, he was grateful for their company.

The tree in front of him was a young birch, and would make an excellent violin. Of course, in this forest, a good violin didn’t depend on the tree, but on
who
lay within it.

The surface of the trunk began to swell and undulate, to come alive. Grandpa saw a mouth first, open and wide as if screaming in torment. Only no scream came out. Only music.
La bella musica del violino
.

Years ago, when Donatelli began doing this, he had cried every time. Now he was used to it. He thought of Emma, and hopelessness and agony filled his heart. When he died, she as his apprentice would have to take over, just as his ancestors had before him.

He rose to his feet and raised the axe.

E
LIZABETH GAZED AT HER DYING TWIN,
Lili. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

The twins were in a cold, dimly lit chamber. Lili lay on an old-fashioned, four-poster bed, her frail body covered with thick blankets. Elizabeth sat on a chair by her side.

Elizabeth thought her coming here would have a positive effect on Lili. But it looked as though her trip was of no use. Lili was as frail as ever.

“I’ve tried…” Lili murmured.