Bloodbound Nocturne (The Sophia Kelly Chronicles Book 1)

by Amy J. Wenglar

  "Damn you," I whisper, stopping on the Drauchenberg Plays Chopin album I'd started listening to the other night.

  The papers, it turns out, are pages upon pages of music that I am to put together somehow, collate, and file, even though I can't tell one page from another and have no idea what goes with what unless I study the music to see what logically might come next in the musical phrase. It's as if the pages were thrown into the air, scooped back up again in a haphazard stack, and then placed on my desk for me to organize.

  I soon develop a system for organizing the pages and am going along pretty well when the office door bangs open. I jump, my skin prickling with goosebumps. I'm afraid to look up. The tension that hangs in the air tells me it's not Colin's presence that fills the entire room.

  Knowing I can't just sit and stare at the page of music beneath my hands, I slowly lift my eyes to the doorway. My stomach drops to the floor. Standing in the doorway, dressed casually in a pair of jeans, white T-shirt, and a pair of artfully battered Converse sneakers is Christoph von Drauchenberg. And he looks just as surprised as I do.

  I try to speak, but my voice doesn't come. My arms and legs feel frozen with shock. I can do nothing but stare at him, my mouth gaping like a fish’s. The next track on his album starts. There is a flash of something that passes along his face as his eyes glance down at my phone on the desk and then back to me.

  His album. His music. Oh God. Abort musical ambiance now. Danger! Danger!

  I fumble for my phone, but my fingers can't quite grasp its slick surface. It skitters across the desk and onto the floor, along with about half the stack of music I'd just finished organizing. My phone screen lights up from the impact, which illuminates the album art that shows Christoph beside the piano.

  This is it. I'm going to die of humiliation now.

  My face burns with embarrassment as the music continues to play.

  "Hi," I squeak, giving him a casual wave that turns out to be more like an awkward, jerky movement of my hand, as if I'm at the start of a massive fit.

  My face flushes all over again, and I stare helplessly at my phone on the floor. I can't move. His presence leaves me feeling paralyzed. The soft, peaceful music that just a few minutes ago made me feel calm and focused is now about to send me into a full-on anxiety attack. It doesn't help that his icy blue eyes feel like they're burning holes through my body. Why is he here, and why does he look so angry?

  And then it hits me.

  "Oh!" I exclaim aloud, inhaling so deeply that I choke. "Is this your… Are you…" I stammer after my coughing fit has subsided.

  He takes a step into the office and closes the door behind him, leaving me feeling trapped and vulnerable.

  "What are you…" His voice is low and raspy, and he is as shocked as I am. "No," he says, shaking his head and pressing his fingertips to his temples. "There's been a mistake."

  Neither one of us seems to know what to say.

  I frown. "I'm sorry?"

  "You're the aide they've assigned to me? You're my student aide?" His eyes blaze. The tension in the room has grown thick, and I start to feel dizzy.

  "I swear, I had nothing to do with it," I say defensively. "I didn't know you were… my boss. I thought you… I didn't…"

  "What are you doing in my office?" he growls, ignoring me. "How did you get in here?"

  "I-I…" I swallow hard, trying to calm the shaking in my voice. "You left me an assignment. I'm just… trying to file the stuff you wanted me to." The stuff that I've just knocked on the floor. "I'm trying to get this filed for you," I say as I half stoop, half fall to the floor, where my phone lays atop scattered pages of music I'd so meticulously organized. With trembling hands, I press pause, silencing the music, and sit back on my heels, only to find myself suddenly at eye level with his waist, which is not a position I feel very comfortable in at the moment.

  My heart lurches into my throat as I look up at his handsome face. That handsome face that's now glaring down at me, as if he's about to lop off my head while I kneel before him like some quivering, miserable servant. I quickly scramble to my feet, feeling humiliated, as I fight to keep my lower lip from shaking. What happened? A few days ago, he seemed desperate to see me again.

  "Trying? Jesus Christ, Miss Kelly. It's not rocket science." Christoph rolls his eyes and stands impatiently with his hands on his hips. "Please tell me you are smarter than this."

  I feel the heat of embarrassment flushing over my entire body, along with a rush of anger.

  No. He is not going to humiliate me like this.

  I push my shoulders back and fix him with a defiant stare. As I do so, I am met with a rush of light behind my eyes that nearly blinds me. I work to regain my composure and attempt to reposition the messy bun that has flopped to one side.

  "Look, if you're still all pissy that I ignored your attempts at… whatever it was you were trying to do the night of the concert, get over yourself. Fire me. Have me reassigned, whatever." I meet his gaze, hoping I don't look or sound as terrified as I feel. "But you don't have to be rude. It's my first day, and I'm doing the best I can with what I've been given." With the stack of music clutched to my chest, I push past him, waving the Post-it Note he'd left for me in front of his face as I pass. "And as you can see, that isn't much." I whirl back around to fix him with a final scowl.

  He winces slightly, as if my words have had some effect on him, but then his eyes narrow, and he looks as if he's ready to kill me again. He watches me for a moment, not saying anything. Then, the corner of his mouth quirks slightly.

  He's going to fire me. I haven't even been at my job a full day yet, and I'm already going to get fired. I know it. His eyes narrow again as if he's pondering something. The silence between us feels like it drags on forever.

  "Carry on then, Miss Kelly," he mutters. "Your job is safe. For now."

  I hurry back to my desk, head down and praying I don't see Colin on the way, since the anger that's rising inside of me is about to boil over. I don't want to have to explain what just happened. I'm much too angry and embarrassed, and I'm angry about being embarrassed. Most of all, I'm hurt, and I feel like I could burst into tears at any moment. How does this man have such an effect on me?

  I plop down in the squeaky, worn-out rolling chair at my desk. It's a far cry from the expensive chair in Christoph von Drauchenberg's office. Setting the stack in front of me, I try to smooth out the crumpled edges where my hands had been gripping so tightly, but my vision blurs with an onslaught of tears. I stop and take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm myself. My stomach twists, and I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I cannot let him win. If he wants to fire me, it's for the best, but I refuse to cry over it.

  "You okay, Sophe?" Colin asks, sitting on the edge of my desk. "Did I just hear yelling?"

  Damn you, Colin.

  Heat rises to my face all over again, and I chew my lip nervously as the horrible scene with my boss replays and replays in my head as if it's stuck in a loop. Where had he come from? I didn't even see him come in.

  "I just met the new professor, and we've already had a fight," I grumble, tossing my chewed-up ballpoint pen aside and pushing back from my desk. If I weren't so mad, I'd probably find this amusing. Who fights with their boss? On their very first day of work? "One guess who it is."

  He gives me a puzzled look before shaking his head.

  "Well, it's obviously someone you're excited about," he says with a grin.

  "Christoph von Drauchenberg, pianist extraordinaire." I spit out his name with as much hate as I can muster. "I guess we can add college professor to his extensive resume."

  "No way." Colin swipes a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking out on one side. He stares at the floor for a moment and then looks back up at me, perplexed. "Really?" he asks in disbelief. "As much as I hate to admit, you guys had serious chemistry the other night. What happened?"

  I quickly look around, making sure the professor isn't lurking somewhere, listening to u
s talk about him.

  "It must've been a fluke. He wasn't nice this time. At all. Maybe he feels like an idiot now that he realizes he was hitting on a student who is now his employee."

  "I'm sorry, Sophe. What are you going to do?" He thrusts his lip into a little pout. "You can't quit and leave me all by myself."

  "You've been doing fine without me," I snap. "But no, I'm not going to quit. I need the money."

  "Good. Stick around. Make him miserable. You've already signed a year-long contract for the job. He can't technically fire you anyway. Not until you fulfill that contract."

  "I can't see a year of this. It hasn't even been a full day and I'm ready to kill him."

  "He's also the new conductor for the UT Symphony Orchestra. That's just been announced, too. And he's teaching musicianship, which—"

  "Which of course is a prerequisite for a million other things. Okay, you can stop now," I groan as I let my hands fall in front of me, slapping down against the desk.

  Colin chews his lip for a moment. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, he probably won't last long around here. The dean isn't going to want a professor that berates his students. And no one likes a professor who has no personality."

  "That may be true, but for now I still have to work with him," I say, a lump rising in my throat. “And he does have a personality." I give Colin a sour look, as if he's somehow responsible for all of this. "He's cold and hateful, and he's arrogant. I think he literally hates everyone. You should've seen it, Colin. He came barging into his office while I was in there trying to file all of this stupid music." I hold up part of the stack in one hand as an example. "I was finally in a groove and making some progress with matching all of this stuff up. He scared the crap out of me. Then I knocked all of that music on the floor, so now I have to organize it again. And then he yelled at me for being in his office—"

  "The office that he left instructions for you to enter? That office?" Colin frowns.

  "Yes," I say emphatically. I'm glad Colin agrees with me. "He was mad because I was even in there. And then he started grumbling about how there's been some huge mistake. I finally told him that I was doing the best I could with his stupid Post-it instructions." I shake my head. "There's no way this arrangement is going to work. No way. Can you do some kind of magic thing to make him go away? Make him a special tea or something."

  "Him?" He gestures in the direction of Christoph's office. "No way would I even attempt it. That's a death wish waiting to happen."

  "Tell me about it," I mutter, cursing to myself before squeezing my eyes shut and pressing my fingertips to my temples. The flash of light behind my eyes seems to have triggered a migraine-like headache.

  "I've got to get back up there. You'll be okay back here?"

  "I think so, unless that horrible man comes over here and starts berating me for no reason. Will you call me if you see him? On my extension?" I peer over at the office phone next to me. "Four-three-one-five. Yes, I think that's it."

  Colin rolls his eyes and starts to leave. "Yes, Sophia. I will call you on your extension if I see him."

  "Call me anyway," I call after him. "I feel important having an extension. I've never had an extension before. Hey! What's your extension? I can call you, too." But it's too late. He's already gone.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Auditions never scare me. I can't remember ever having experienced stage fright or jittery nerves before an audition. I'm a good musician. I know I'm a good musician. It's the one thing I honestly feel like I can wrap my head around and focus on. But this audition? This one is different. This one could significantly impact my entire university career if I don't make the cut for the UT Symphony Orchestra. If I'm among the top violinists, I will automatically make the cut, which is not only what I want; I need it too.

  The person who may or may not stand in my way is Christoph von Drauchenberg, who is on the audition committee and who had coincidentally made himself quite scarce after the incident in his office the other day. I haven't been able to gauge his mood or his attitude toward me. Nothing. I have nothing that will give me any indication of how I might fare during this audition. I know my playing should be a determining factor, but if Christoph thinks I may also bring drama to the table, and if he's decided he hates me again, he may opt to keep me out. There are plenty of talented music majors auditioning today.

  He's in there right now, his icy, intimidating stare tearing down the most seasoned of musicians. One after the other, they go in determined and ready, and they come out looking pale and exhausted. And pretty soon I will be in there, too, feeling the weight of that stare as I struggle to maintain my composure after all I've been through with him.

  I stand outside of the recital hall where auditions are being held, shifting nervously from one foot to the other, wanting more than anything for this to be over and done with. My heart hammers in my ears, and adrenaline surges through my veins when the girl in front of me steps in for her audition. I'm next in line. I know I am as ready and as prepared as I can be, but things sometimes happen during auditions, and during performances, that just cannot be explained. What if I suddenly forget the music? Or pass out while I'm playing? Anything can happen around Christoph von Drauchenberg. And it does.

  Inhaling deeply, I push those thoughts aside and try to visualize myself nailing the audition. It helps… sometimes. I turn and scan the crowd of students behind me. Everyone is focused on their internal pre-audition meditations and rituals. One guy sits on the floor, back to the wall, giant headphones covering his ears as he goes through the motions of playing his violin without his bow. It's like half an air violin. A girl to the left of him goes through a series of yoga poses, complete with a downward dog at the end.

  I turn my attention from the yoga girl to find Colin waving at me from across the hall. He's supposed to be working today, but I can't imagine he's getting anything done with the flurry of activity going on out here. He waves, oblivious to the women who stare longingly at him as he approaches me.

  "Good luck, Sophe," Colin says, leaning in for a quick hug. "You're going to kill it in there. I know you will."

  He pulls me in for another hug, much to the dismay of his gaggle of followers, before he retreats back into the music office. I shake my head and smile to myself. There's no denying that Colin is a catch.

  Leaning in toward the door, I try to listen to the girl who's auditioning now. I can't hear much, just a note or two every now and then. The playing stops and is followed by the faint murmur of voices. The door opens and the girl walks out beaming from ear to ear. She is apparently one of the few who had a good audition. I hope I come out of the recital hall with that kind of smile. I give her a polite nod and take a deep breath as I start to enter the room, but the girl catches my elbow.

  "Don't look at the conductor," she says quickly, her eyes darting nervously around the hallway.

  "I'm sorry?" I ask, surprised.

  "The conductor. The German guy. He's just… His eyes. Just don't."

  She frowns, obviously confused, and turns to walk off, leaving me staring after her for a moment.

  "We haven't got all day. Who's next, please?" an angry voice growls from inside the recital hall.

  Christoph. In a mood. Damn him.

  The empty stage feels like it's three miles long. My knees are shaking as I make my way across the long, creaking floorboards, and my mouth feels dry and sticky.

  I quickly wipe one hand on my skirt and then the other, almost dropping my violin in the process. The audition committee, made up of the string faculty as well as the band and orchestra directors, sits in the front two rows, with Christoph von Drauchenberg in the very center. They all stare up at me, expressionless, with pens poised in their hands, waiting for me to begin.

  Christoph's eyes meet mine, and his stare is so intense it sends a spike of fear through me, and I have to look away. He wasn't here to rip apart my Butler School audition, the audition that got me here to begin with, which means tha
t unless he's taken the time to listen to my recorded audition, he's never heard me play before. I can't blow this. He's expecting me to fail. He's expecting me to trip and fall. Break my arm or something so I can't play. I can't let that happen.

  "Whenever you are ready, Miss Kelly," he says in his bored, monotone voice.

  I clench my jaw a couple of times, matching his stare with one of my own that I hope is equally intense. I have to do well. I cannot let him intimidate me. He lowers his gaze from mine and begins to write something on the pad of paper in his lap.

  What is he possibly writing? I haven't even started yet.

  Pressing my lips together, I take a deep breath and start to play. Right as the music flies off the music stand. All by itself.

  What the…

  There is a shuffle of movement, and a couple of the faculty members clear their throats. I bend and quickly scoop up the pages of music, and my head jerks back as if someone has just tugged my hair. Someone, or something, is definitely trying to distract me.

  "Hey, ow!" I yelp as I jerk to my feet, turning to face my foe. But there is nothing, and I am convinced that Bates Recital Hall is haunted by a very cruel, audition-sabotaging ghost.

  There is an uncomfortable shuffling and rustle of movement from the audition committee as they watch me, likely wondering what on earth is going on. I'd like to know the answer to this myself.

  I shut my eyes to center myself for a moment, and with a deep breath I start to play, doing my best to ignore the little tugs at my clothing and hair. I swear I can hear laughing all around me. Little high-pitched musical tinkles of sound that clash with the surprisingly confident sounds coming from my violin. I have to get this over with. I have to focus. As the music pours out of me, echoing through the recital hall, I start to feel relief, the end of the piece growing nearer with every note. Hours and hours of preparation have brought me here, and I am in my groove now. And not only am I playing the music, I'm nailing it. With or without ghostly interference.