Luthier's Apprentice, The by Mayra Calvani

fingerboard; the towers were pear-shaped like violins and from them emerged triple turrets like tailpieces and fine tuners. The windows were f-holes. The keep, or highest point of the castle, shot up toward the purple sky like a violin’s neck, complete with scroll and tuning pegs. A ditch filled with bubbly, steamy, plum-colored liquid surrounded the structure.
    “Like a Salvador Dali painting,” Emma said. “Like something out of a nightmare.”
    He glanced sideways at her. Her brown eyes were wide with awe and her glossy dark hair fell in tousled waves down her shoulders. Corey captured all of her in a second before quickly turning his attention back to the flight...and to the problem at hand.
    “Or out of somebody’s very sick mind,” he murmured. He closed his lips grimly. Years ago, standing by his father’s grave, Corey had made him a promise: a promise to avenge his death, and he was determined to fulfil it, whatever it took.
    He felt her questioning eyes on him, but he kept his attention on the plane.
    He began to lose altitude, seeking a landing site.
    A clearing surrounded the castle and separated it from the woods and the lake. He tried to land the plane as far from the castle as possible. They still didn’t know what the place was, or what lay inside it.
    He pointed to the edge of the lake. “We’ll land over there.”
    “Okay,” she said. “We still don’t know what to expect from whoever inhabits that weird thing. Hey, my watch has stopped.”
    Corey glanced at his watch. “Mine too,” he muttered.
    If, in fact, time stopped in this world, this served as evidence to support his theory. But he wasn’t yet ready to share his thoughts, his secret agenda, with Emma.
    Emma leaned against the back of the seat. “Take it easy when going down. My stomach doesn’t feel too good… unless you want me to throw up all over the instrument panel.”
    “I’ll do my best. Hold on.”
    Gripping the wheel, Corey watched the altitude indicator as he levelled the plane for a smooth landing.
    “Here we go,” he said. “Hold tight.”
    Emma groaned.
    After a moment the wheels made contact with the ground. The plane bumped and shook and coughed several times before it came to a stop.
    “ Yesss !” Corey said. “ Yes, yes, yes! ” He couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. He was so thrilled, he reached for Emma and kissed her on the lips.
    She seemed stunned at first, her cheeks red like tomatoes. But then she laughed with him. “Okay. I admit it. You weren’t too bad.”
    He drew away from her. “What are you talking about? I was amazing!”
    “Really, Corey. A little modesty would suit you better,” she mocked.
    In a snooty British accent, he said, “‘I cannot agree with those who rank modesty among the virtues. To a logician all things should be seen exactly as they are, and to underestimate oneself is a much a departure from the truth as to exaggerate one’s powers.’”
    “Let me guess— The Yellow Face ?”
    He shook his head. “ The Greek Interpreter .”
    “Damn!”
    Corey knew his strength in violin playing was his uncanny memory, not actual technical skill. This he left to Emma. He had never seen or heard her play, but he could guess by looking at her marvelous fingers what she was capable of.
    “I wish my father would have been here to see this,” Corey said.
    “I bet he must be very proud of you, wherever he is,” Emma said, gently touching his arm.
    Corey sighed. “Thanks... Um, Emma? Sorry about that.”
    “About what?” She blushed again, glancing away. “Oh...right.”
    “I got carried away.”
    She looked at him. She smiled. “I guess I can forgive you. You didn’t kill us, after all.”
    He smiled back, his gaze lowering to her lips. He felt an uncontrollable urge to kiss her again, but thought better of it. “Come on, let’s get out and see where we are.”
    Outside the cockpit, the air rippled with distant music.
    “Definitely violins,” Emma said.
    They