Faustian Malice in E Minor

Facing eviction after a rich customer dined and dashed and got me fired, I took my beat-up violin into the subway on Halloween and played Danse Macabre for tips.

Doctor Faustus of Blackvale Academy stopped to listen, handed me his card, and offered a full scholarship with living expenses at the fiercely competitive graduate school for a professional career in the arts, a place I had never applied to because I could not afford the tuition.

I had two days to accept before the offer was pulled, and the terms were just as strange: I could arrive two weeks before finals or not come at all.

The Bad Boys of Classical Music are students here, even though their sold-out world tour was abruptly canceled and their social media went dark.

A stalker deep in psychosis thinks he is an angel and my patron is the devil trying to buy my soul, and though I mean to keep my head down and graduate, the way I was brought in has put every eye on me, including students who do not like it.