; ; She unbuttoned the top of her white blouse, not very concerned about ; the attention this might draw from her stoic driver in the front seat. ; He'd paid her little mind since unceremoniously chucking her bags into ; the trunk at the airport and shooing her into the cab. He was one of ; those bearish Slavic guys with a prominent jaw and an inscrutable, ; stony expression. The kind of guy, Sofia thought with the faintest of ; smiles, that might play a lab assistant in some ancient Hammer horror ; flick.
; ; As she smoothed out her skirt for the hundredth time during the ; hour-long ride, they left pavement for a frighteningly narrow gravel ; road. They were high in the mountains, and Sofia did her best not to ; look down as they rounded the tight curves. The sun ducked behind a ; cloud, and she shivered in spite of the heat inside the car. A single ; red leaf fluttered by the window, and she watched it drift lazily down ; into a gorge in spite of herself, deeper and deeper, around and ; around. Deeper. That one tiny leaf, spiraling down into the valley, ; which was carcarpeted with already swallowed leaves, just like... She ; put a hand to her mouth to stop - the vertigo? Or was it... Shifting ; in her seat fitfully, she decided to look straight ahead for the rest ; of the trip.
; ; Then the hills parted, revealing a magnificent old estate.
; ; The Conservatory.
; ; This was the school that Sofia had sweated blood to gain entrance to, ; practicing her viola for long hours during most of her high school ; life. They only took a few new students each semester, all girls, and ; this was her life's accomplishment, such as it was at eighteen. She ; should be stoked to finally be here, to study under some of the best ; instructors in the world, but now her blood ran cold. It could've been ; the fact that she was thousands of miles from home for the first time. ; Or the way the clouds swallowed up the sun and made the world go gray, ; or maybe it was the intimidating presence of the campus that made her ; feel like she was five years old again. She couldn't take her eyes ; off it, and
; ; In the dream she's naked, surrounded by silent cats in a forest ; clearing. In the middle of the night. A beautiful crystal goblet, ; suspended from a tree branch by a long silver string, is slowly ; swinging back and forth. It's also spinning in the moonlight, ; refracting ghostly hues that sparkle playfully. Enticingly. Sofia ; can't stop watching it and she wants to wake herself up, but the dream ; always wins in the end. She always watches the pretty colors that ; twinkle against her retinas, unlocking songs in her head, dragging her ; down deeper and deeper, until she finds herself in another, deeper ; dream and
; ; She realized that she'd paid the cabby and he was already driving back ; up the gravel road, leaving her dazed, standing there with her ; luggage.
; ;
; ; The first days of classes hadn't been so bad, once she got a feel for ; the campus. The ornate, creepy architecture of the buildings tended ; to confuse the unfamiliar, but on her second day it seemed to make a ; weird kind of sense. The staff seemed stiff and overly formal to her, ; but Sofia just chalked that up to being in a strange country. In the ; end, this was a music school, so she quickly reached a certain comfort ; level.
; ; It was the other students that she couldn't figure out. They were ; strangely aloof. Probably because most of them had been here a whole ; week before Sofia, who arrived at the last possible minute. Since the ; conservatory wasn't exactly in a metropolitan area, there was nowhere ; to go in the evenings except the dorms or the practice rooms. This ; was fine to Sofia during the first few days - she was here to become a ; professional violist - but by the next week her fingers were sore and ; the thought of spending most of the night in her austere little ; cubicle was depressing. So she decided to hang out in her dorm room ; and see what kind of people she was living with.
; ; "What is this we're listening to?" her new roomie wanted to know. ; Bebel was an alarmingly pretty Brazilian girl, who seemed nice, if a ; little glib. But not nice enough to keep a certain judgmental tone ; out of her question.
; ; "Bauhaus," Sofia offered neutrally.
; ; Bebel's friend Hannah, a devout classical pianist, looked up from her ; perch on Bebel's bed across the room. "How can you listen to this..."
; ; "...Music made in the last fifty years?" Sofia finished for her. She ; smiled at Hannah to take the edge off a little. She wanted to make ; friends, but she wanted to be able to let her hair down in her crib. ; And there was more to her than a voracious viola student.
; ; To her relief, Hannah grinned at her little jab and sat up on the bed, ; pulling a cigarette from her blouse pocket. She turned her attention ; to the song as she lit up, and looking to Bebel she said, "Mmmm. ; Well, it sounds kind of like..."
; ; "NachtMusik." Bebel offered charitably. Sofia relaxed her guard and ; decided that there was a possibility of friendship here.
; ; Hannah nodded. "Yeah, it goes with your hair, and your complexion. ; That shirt." Sofia was wearing a black tee. Hannah, unbelievably ; disconnected from popular culture, had just figured out what Goth was.
; ; Bebel brightened. "It's like the Romantic period, only electrified." ; Her lilting Portuguese accent made the statement seem even more ; outrageous.
; ; Sofia smiled around her cigarette as she lit up. "Well, I don't know ; about all that. Berlioz in mascara..."
; ; Bebel laughed, obviously intrigued by her new roommate, but Hannah was ; looking out the window, at the moon peering in through the trees. ; "Yes..." she whispered. "It reminds me of this dream I keep having." ; She frowned, then seemed to look past the moon, to the velvety purple ; sky itself. "Where I'm in this forest... And there's something ; spinning in the air. In front of me."
; ; Sofia turned from her desk to Hannah. "What did you say?" she asked. ; The red-haired girl was muttering, heedless of the long red cherry on ; the cig in her hand.
; ; "Spinning. Round and around. I can't stop looking at it, and ; then..."
; ; "Hannah," Bebel prompted. "Cut it out." Hannah blinked, then turned ; away from the window to meet Bebel's icy glare.
; ; "Sorry, I..." Hannah mumbled, stamping out her cigarette in the ; ashtray. "Need to go practice." She ducked out of the room without ; meeting Sofia's eyes.
; ; Sofia regarded Bebel, who had turned her glare to the window. "What ; was that about?"
; ; The corner of the Brazilian girl's mouth twitched, then she reignited ; her sunny wattage. "Oh, don't worry about her," she smiled, putting ; her hand delicately on Sofia's knee. "She has these dreams about ; witches." She rolled her brown eyes comically.
; ; Sofia resolved then to find out what was under Bebel's glib exterior.
; ;
; ; "Do-mi-sol-la-sol-fa-re-ti-do." Sofia was singing the painfully simple ; solfege exercise with her classmates. She was already close to ; nodding off, ten minutes into class, when the classroom door creaked ; open and Hannah attempted to sneak in past Miss Zemanova. The ; severely dressed young teacher crisply gestured for everyone to stop ; singing.
; ; "Miss Pendleton," she intoned.
; ; Hannah froze, halfway between the door and her desk and hung her head. ; "Yes, Miss Zemanova." There was a sudden, oppressive silence in the ; room.
; ; "This is the first time you have been tardy. This semester. May I ; remind you that this is your second attempt at this course?" Although ; her expression was very serious, there was a smile in her voice. A ; cruel one.
; ; Hannah didn't answer. She looked as if she were trying to become very ; small. Sofia looked around the room, but none of the other girls ; would meet her gaze.
; ; The lecture continued. "One reason you failed the first time was your ; frequent truancy." Miss Zemanova was clearly jumping at the chance to ; dress Hannah down in front of her peers. "The other reason was your ; lack of enthusiasm." Smiling a little too broadly, Miss Zemanova ; pointed at the only empty desk in the room. "Now sit down, Hannah. ; You have some singing to do."
; ; Hannah took her seat quickly, and the girls were all keen to get this ; ugliness past them, so class resumed. Sofia stole glances at her for ; a few minutes over her sight-singing book, trying to catch her eye and ; shoot her a conspiratorial smirk or something, to show some ; solidarity, but Hannah was mortified. Obviously she was embarrassed ; at being humiliated by Miss Zemanova in front of everyone. But it was ; soon clear to Sofia that her friend was struggling with the exercises ; they were singing. No, that wasn't right; she was struggling against ; the exercises. This seemed odd, but it also made sense somehow. ; Sofia tried to pin words to the intuition, but was unable to ; concentrate on the underlying drama in the room and sing at the same ; time.
; ; That was even stranger - this was Beginning Solfege (which they ; wouldn't let her test out of, for some odd reason) and she could sing ; this stuff at age ten. Why was it taking so much effort for her to ; keep up? They'd been singing in the same key for twenty minutes, for ; God's sake. But she was getting drowsy from the monotony of those ; same eight pitches, and soon she was unable to think of anything but ; the simple moving lines. The chorus of girls' voices, which blended ; in more with the strict teacher's minute by minute, drew her in. Miss ; Zemanova's hand waved through the air and led her steadily through the ; exercises. Deeper. And the way the notes on the page led her eye ; from left to right and down. Left to right and down. And
; ; In the dream she's kneeling, naked in a forest clearing. It's the ; middle of the night. Cats regard her from all sides, and a beautiful ; crystal goblet, suspended from a tree branch by a long silver string ; is slowly swinging back and forth in front of her. It's also spinning ; in the moonlight, refracting ghostly hues that sparkle playfully. ; Yellow and orange and white. Sofia can't stop watching it and she ; wants to wake herself up, but the dream always wins in the end. She ; always watches the pretty colors that twinkle into her eyes, unlocking ; the songs in her head, dragging her down deeper and deeper, until she ; finds herself in another, deeper dream and
; ; The book dropped out of her hand, onto the desk, as Miss Zemanova ; walked by her on the way back to the front of the classroom. "That ; will be all for today girls. Practice the next ten lines in Lesson ; Three for this Wednesday."
; ; Sofia looked down at her book, blinking hard while trying in vain to ; remember the last hour. The commotion the girls made as they gathered ; up their things motivated her to do the same, and this herd instinct ; carried her out into the hall before she snapped out of it.
; ; Snapped out of what? ;
; ; Sofia smacked her dry lips in her sleep. Wine. That's all she could ; remember in her fitful, dreamless slumber. She struggled to awaken ; and sit up in bed, but all she could coax her uncooperative body to do ; was to roll over, making her nightgown bunch up uncomfortably around ; her sweaty back.
; ; Just before she slipped back into deep, relentless unconsciousness, ; the memory of a weird celebration in the dining room unrolled behind ; her eyelids. Miss Zemanova had summoned them to an impromptu ; gathering downstairs, a few hours ago. The occasion was murky, red ; and elusive, but images of her sleepy classmates, rubbing their eyes ; with one hand and loosely clutching goblets in the other, teased at ; her. Then she lost the will to remember and sighed restlessly as ; sleep took her.
; ; Which is what Miss Zemanova wanted.
; ; Knock knock knock
; ; Once again Sofia wrestled her awareness from sleep and now she knew ; she'd been drugged. This was enough to motivate her to sit up in the ; dark on one elbow.
; ; Knock knock knock knock
; ; The soft tapping on her door urged her to try to stand up. Once she'd ; gained precarious footing, she raised up on shaky tiptoes to look at ; Bebel in the top bunk. In the moonlight she could see that her ; roommate was nude, posed seductively on top of the sheets. Fast ; asleep.
; ; Someone in the hall whispered, "Sofia!"
; ; Her head wobbled uncertainly toward the door, and her legs made a stab ; at locomotion. She reached out to grip the doorknob, to steady ; herself. "Who is it?" she hissed, straining to make her tongue work.
; ; "Sofia, it's Hannah! Open up!"
; ; Just then Sofia's knees gave out and she slid down slowly, her rear ; kissing the cold floor. "Can't... The wine..." she burbled.
; ; "Sofia please! They're coming to get me!" Hannah's whisper was ; turning into a panicked half-shout. She sounded desperate. Out of ; her mind. "You have to fight it!"
; ; "Hang on." Sofia worked at the lock from her seat against the door.
; ; "No. Oh God no." Hannah wasn't talking to Sofia anymore, and the ; hysteria in her voice made Sofia's fingers fumble faster. Then the ; lock snapped back and she began the difficult job of opening the door ; while trying to scoot her uncooperative body out of the way. When she ; had it open a few inches, she peered into the hall through the crack.
; ; Hannah stood right at the doorway, one hand on the doorknob, the other ; drawn up to her face as if she expected to be struck. Sofia was so ; delirious from the wine that all she could think about was how ; glamorous and beautiful her red-haired friend looked. She admired her ; form, fit like a dancer's, under a whisper-brief negligee. And the ; stray auburn curls that stuck to her damp forehead. Her teary eyes, ; limpid in the bright moonlight, were wide as could be. She was ; immobile, transfixed. Sofia too was mesmerized, unable to realize ; that her friend needed help.
; ; And then she knew it was too late, because Hannah's eyes closed, then ; she nodded once at someone unseen at the other end of the corridor, ; and her hand retreated from Sofia's doorknob. And noiselessly, she ; walked out of Sofia's view, to her doom.
; ; Hours later, Sofia fidgeted absently in bed, awakened by the cold. ; She tried to adjust her nightgown under the thick blanket, only to ; find that she was naked on top of the bedding . Before she could ; waken further, she found that she was touching herself lightly, and ; with a shiver, she slipped back into the dream about the goblet. ;
; ; "That's not it. Did you even look at this movement before rehearsal?" ; Lewellyn, or Evil Bitch as she was known privately to Sofia, was ; flexing her authority as quartet leader again. This was an advanced ; group, so they were taking a stab at Bartok's Third, and although ; Sofia felt capable with the high demands of her part, nothing was ever ; good enough for the prissy violinist.
; ; "What do you mean, exactly?" Sofia inquired, a slight edge in her ; voice.
; ; Lewellyn's green eyes narrowed into a look Sofia was getting ; uncomfortably familiar with. "The mixed meters, Wednesday. You're ; dropping beats."
; ; Sofia took a deep breath, so that Lewellyn's new nickname for her ; wouldn't piss her off even more. Miranda and Reese, the rest of the ; quartet, were silent. "Really," she mused, with a toss of her long, ; straight black hair. "Let's take it from the top."
; ; "Oh do yes, let's." Lewellyn held Sofia's challenging gaze for a long ; moment, causing Miranda to shift her cello awkwardly. "Try to keep up ; this time, Wednesday."
; ; They began the quiet, threatening opening strains of the Third ; Movement for the eighth time that hour. Sofia put extra effort into ; the insistent melodic fragments, to show Evil Bitch she meant ; business. After a few measures, she relaxed into the mood, tortured ; as it was. Her gaze wandered away from the page during a passage she ; had memorized, to monitor her left hand. Then Lewellyn's glittering ; pendant caught her eye. The light in the stuffy old practice hall ; seemed to dim, and Sofia couldn't take her eyes off the thing, resting ; lightly just above Lewellyn's bosom. She began to take her cues from ; the violinist's breathing, indicated by the rise and fall of the ; luminous pendant. Amazingly, the group of girls was fiercely in sync, ; and before she knew it they'd reached the stunning climax of the ; quartet. Miranda was just nailing the final vicious slides down the ; neck of her cello as Sofia and Lewellyn drove home the ascending ; diminished scale melody. And then, the final staccato chords rang out ; in the hall, with just the right amount of weight to the final chord, ; as if they were one violinist raking the bow across all four strings.
; ; Sofia lowered her bow, in sweaty disbelief. She hadn't been reading ; the score for some time. No one spoke, not wanting to spoil the ; moment.
; ; Except for Lewellyn. "Well, that was a little less anemic than ; before," she pronounced as she began to stow her violin in its case. ; "We'll run the whole thing next week." The other girls took their cue ; to make their escape, lest they incur more critical barbs from their ; tyrannical leader.
; ; Sofia just sat there, fuming over Lewellyn's sour attitude. The ; uppity bitch! She was two years senior to everyone else in the room, ; and she should've been in another group by now. That's probably what ; made her so awful, Sofia decided. The fact that she was held back ; with the more gifted Freshmen. Lewellyn, she scoffed, with her ; expensive violin case and Italian boots. And her black leather pants. ; And her big boobs. And what about those captivating green eyes? And ; that fabulous ass...
; ; Lewellyn shot one last, enigmatic look at Sofia over her shoulder as ; she exited the hall, and Sofia hoped she could get back to the dorm ; quickly to get out of her soaked underwear. ;
; ; Bebel was obviously irritated with Sofia's line of questioning, but ; she pressed on anyway. "Seriously. Have you or anyone else laid eyes ; on the Headmistress this entire semester?"
; ; Bebel sighed somewhat patiently as she hoisted herself up to her bunk, ; dangling a tan leg in front of Sofia before disappearing from view. ; "She doesn't teach. She's strictly an administrator," she offered in ; soft, Portuguese-flavored tones. "Why should anyone ever see her?"
; ; "She has to leave school to go home at night, doesn't she?"
; ; "With classes, rehearsals and practicing, who has time to stand ; outside the Admin building every night? I'm tired, Sofia."
; ; Sofia was insistent. "I've heard rumors."
; ; Bebel turned off the light by way of response.
; ; "I heard this school was started as some kind of college for the ; occult arts, two hundred years ago."
; ; Bebel was suddenly irate. "That's horseshit. You shouldn't listen to ; silly girls who run their mouths too much. Good night, Sofia."
; ; "Bebel, things go on around here. There's stuff I can't remember."
; ; No answer.
; ; "And all the youngest instructors are so strange! The old ; ones... they're sweet and patient. But the young ones, they always ; play these mind games in class."
; ; A gust of wind against the panes right next to Sofia's bed made her ; jump under the covers. Then some tree branches tapped against it, ; seeming to echo Bebel's warning to drop the subject.
; ; And then, another noise distinguished itself from the flapping tree ; limbs. It was the creaking of wood. From the floor out in the hall. ; Someone was walking out there.
; ; "Bebel!" Sofia whispered.
; ; "Shhhh!" Bebel hissed back. "Shut up!"
; ; The creaking stopped right outside their door.
; ; "Bebel, if you know what's going on, you better tell me!" Sofia sank ; deeper into the blankets.
; ; "You don't know when to leave things alone," her roommate whispered ; forcefully. "It's better for you to sleep."
; ; "Fuck sleep!" Sofia snapped back, her voice rising. "Tell me who's ; outside!"
; ; Bebel stirred in the bunk above, then said, "I want you to sleep now."
; ; Silence from the hall. Sofia grew confused. "Why?"
; ; "Sleep now."
; ; "Wha-"
; ; "Sleep now."
; ; An unnatural coolness flushed Sofia's cheeks, then bled into her ; chest, freezing her heart. Her eyelids drooped. "Why, Bebel?" she ; murmured.
; ; "Shhhhhh. Sleep, little initiate."
; ; The coolness reached her toes, but it was warm between her legs. ; Speech failed her, so she just whimpered as her eyes closed.
; ; The creaking outside resumed, and moved off toward the stairs.
; ; "Sleep," Bebel intoned. "And dream."
; ; Sofia's head slackened on the pillow as her lips parted. Her hand ; brushed against her nightgown on her thigh, and
; ; In the dream she's naked, kneeling before the goblet in the forest ; clearing. The moon feels cold, and she can hear Bartok on a far off ; hill, howling at the moon in stacked fourth chords. The coldness ; binds her to the moist ground. The cats around her are quizzical, but ; silent. The goblet spins in the moonlight, and milky white points of ; light glint on its surface. She wants to tell Bebel to make it stop, ; but she feels Bebel's hands on her head, forcing her to look. The ; goblet spins on its silver thread, and Sofia knows it's a violin ; string that's holding the crystal in the air before her eyes. The ; dancing points of white light become streaks, and the songs in her ; head begin, lulling her to sleep, only she's already asleep, so she ; begins to tumble into a deeper dream, where...
; ; She's pinned to a cold stone wall, arms outstretched. And dark ; figures are in front of her, women, reaching out to dab paint onto her ; body. They're whispering to each other about composition, balance. ; Many wet fingers are tracing designs on her flesh, and sometimes they ; touch her too nicely, so she starts to breathe faster. She moans ; loudly, trying to make out the faces in the dark, but they ignore her ; and keep painting. She feels a rush in her head and she can't breathe ; fast enough, so she whips her head back and forth to try and wake up. ; Her long hair spills down over her shoulders and into the wet paint, ; as she climaxes roughly.
; ; They don't stop painting.