Discord's Apple - Softcover

Vaughn, Carrie

Softcover

ISBN 10: 076536459X ISBN 13: 9780765364593

Publisher: Tor Fantasy, 2011

Synopsis

When Evie Walker goes home to spend time with her dying father, she discovers that his creaky old house in Hope's Fort, Colorado is not the only legacy she will inherit. Hidden behind the basement door is a secret and magical storeroom, a place where wondrous treasures from myth and legend are kept safe until they are needed again.

Of course, this legacy is not without its costs: there are those who will give anything to find a way in.

With the help of her father, a mysterious stranger named Alex, and some unexpected heroes, Evie must guard the storeroom against ancient and malicious forces and protect both the past and the future even as the present unravels.

About this title

About the Author:

Carrie Vaughn is the New York Times bestselling author of the Kitty Norville books, including Kitty's Big Trouble, Kitty Goes to War, and Kitty and the Midnight Hour. She is also the author of the standalone novel After the Golden Age, and the young adult books Voice of Dragons and Steel. Vaughn had the nomadic childhood of the typical Air Force brat, with stops across the country from California to Florida. She earned her B.A. from Occidental College in Los Angeles, and a master's in English from the University of Colorado at Boulder. She has worked as a Renaissance Festival counter wench, a theater usher, an editor, a buyer at an independent bookstore, and an administrative assistant. She lives in Boulder, Colorado.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Chapter One

Finally, after driving all night, Evie arrived.

Close to town, bells and candy canes made of faded tinsel decorated the telephone poles. The same decorations had hung on the poles every year for as long as Evie could remember; they had no sparkle left. Or maybe she was too tired to notice. In the last two days, she'd only had a nap outside Albuquerque.

Hopes Fort, Colorado, was one of those small towns that dotted the Great Plains, where Main Street turned into the state highway and the post office was attached to the feed store. Hopes Fort had been dying, one boarded- up building at a time, for the last fifty years. Still, somehow the town held on, like the aged relative whose chronic illness never seemed to worsen despite all predictions to the contrary. The holiday decorations, no matter how tattered, still went up every year.

Her phone beeped, and she hooked the hands- free over her ear.

Bruce scratched at her on the other end of the connection. "Evie?"

"Bruce, speak up. The connection's funky."

"Have you seen the news?" Panic edged his voice. She'd been out of L.A. for only two days- what dire crisis could possibly have struck?

"No, I've been driving all day."

"You haven't even listened to the radio?"

"No." Rather than try to find radio reception while driving through the wilds of Arizona and New Mexico, she'd depended on her digital player.

He made a noise like a deflating balloon. "The Kremlin's been bombed. Obliterated. A Cessna filled with drums of kerosene rammed it. They're thinking it's Mongolian rebels."

She took a moment to register that he was talking about current events and not a plot point in their comic book. "Then our May storyline is out the window."

The Eagle Eye Commandos couldn't raid the building complex if it wasn't there. She should have seen this one coming.

"Yeah. Unless we can put some kind of 'how things might have been' spin on it."

"We did that when India and Pakistan dropped nukes on each other. Why don't we do Westerns like everyone else?"

"Because we got a letter from the President thanking us for our patriotic creativity."

"I didn't even vote for him."

"Then maybe it's because we sold half a million copies last year."

"Oh yeah." She pressed her head back on the headrest, stretching her arms against the steering wheel. She had to drive all the way through town to get to the farmland on the other side, where the family's house was. The town looked desolate; she hadn't seen anyone even walking around. "At least the issue hasn't gone to press yet. So. The Kremlin's been bombed. The Eagle Eyes can still raid it. They just have to search the rubble. We'll look really up to date."

It sounded silly, but then all Eagle Eye Commandos storylines started out silly. Working them through to the end with some degree of earnestness transformed them somehow, from adolescent military fantasies to- well, sophisticated military fantasies. They could search the rubble for . . . for hidden evidence on the whereabouts of captured American spies, which was what the original storyline had them looking for. They wouldn't have to change a thing. Except all those gorgeous panels Bruce had drawn of Red Square would have to go.

"I'm going to have to redraw the entire book, aren't I?"

"I'll e-mail you a new script in a day or two."

"Yeah. How's your dad?"

She let out a sigh. "I haven't seen him yet."

"Well, good luck."

"Thanks."

She clicked off her phone and rubbed her eyes.

The Tastee- Freez where she'd spent so much time in high school was gone, the ice cream cone sign on its pole dismantled. Nothing had moved in to replace it. The hokey ice cream stand had been the only place to hang out, unless one of your friends had a car to drive into Pueblo, an hour away. More kids must have had cars these days. Or Hopes Fort had fewer kids.

Since high school, she'd only been back here for holidays, when the town was at its bleakest. No wonder it always depressed her. But maybe she wasn't being fair.

Halfway down Main Street, a cop had set up a roadblock: a single hazard barricade pulled into the middle of the pavement. The one officer manning the checkpoint climbed out of

the car, which was parked on the curb, and held up his hand, directing her to slow down.

Smiling, she stopped and rolled down her window. "Well, Officer. You got me."

"Evie Walker? Hell, it's been years!"

He wore a starched blue uniform, but the blond crew cut and bulky shoulders were the same. Johnny Brewster had been a linebacker in high school. He'd gotten a little rounder in the middle since then.

"Who thought giving you a badge was a good idea?"

"Me and some of the guys had a little too much to drink and drew straws. I got the short one."

"Ouch."

"Can I get you to pop your trunk while we talk?"

Checkpoint searches. In Hopes Fort.

Amused, she popped the trunk lever, then climbed out of the car. She put her hands in the pockets of her green canvas army surplus jacket and leaned against the door while Johnny opened the trunk door and made a survey of the contents: two filled gas cans, blankets, a roadside emergency kit, and odd bits of travel detritus. Her suitcase and a few gallon jugs of water were in the backseat.

"Thanks," he said. "A lot of folks aren't this understanding."

"I'm the last person to complain about security."

He looked away and muttered, "I guess so."

With better checkpoints, her mother might still be alive. "You have a permit for the extra gas?"

She'd brought the gas because she hadn't wanted to face fuel rationing or closed gas stations on the drive across the desert. The slip of paper was in her glove box. "I didn't think security restrictions would be in effect out here."

"Rules are rules. We have to keep track of people coming in and out of town."

"So shouldn't you have roadblocks at either end of Main Street?"

He shrugged, unconcerned. "We only have enough people for one checkpoint."

"They have real checkpoints in L.A.," she said. And lots of them, at every major exit and interchange. It sometimes took all day to get from Pomona to Hollywood.

"I bet. They also have a reason for 'em. I don't know how you stand it." He slammed closed the trunk. "How's your dad?"

This was Hopes Fort: everybody must have known abouthim. "I haven't seen him yet. You probably know better than I do."

"He says he's fine."

That sounded like her father- always cheerful. "I should probably get out there."

Johnny pulled the barrier out of the way (L.A. had automated titanium barriers) while she got back in the car.

"Thanks, Johnny."

 

 

For three generations, the Walker family had lived in a brick ranch house on a few acres of prairie. Evie's grandfather had grown up on the farm the land used to be part of. The farm had long since been broken up and sold, except for the token parcel and the house to which her grandparents had retired. They'd died when Evie was in college. Evie's father had lived in town and worked as a mail carrier until five years ago, when he took his own place in rural retirement.

Evie still thought of it as her grandparents' house, a place she went to for holidays and backyard adventures. Her father hadn't changed it much when he moved in- he took over the furniture, the heirlooms, the pictures on the wall, the shelves full of books. At first, Evie had had trouble thinking of her father as anything more than a house sitter there. But over the last couple years, when she noticed that his hair was gray and that he had started wearing bifocals, he reminded her more and more of her grandparents. He had stopped being a visitor and metamorphosed into the house's proper resident.

She was his only child, and the house would come to her someday. By the time she retired, there'd be nothing left of Hopes Fort and no reason to be here. Except it had been the place where her grandfather and father had grown up. She supposed that meant something.

Later in the afternoon than she'd planned, she pulled into the long driveway behind her father's twenty- year- old rusting blue pickup. Out of habit, she locked her car, even though this was possibly the one place in the universe she could comfortably leave it unlocked. The house itself was well cared for, neat if unremarkable. It had a carport at the end of the driveway rather than a garage, screened windows, a small front porch, and fan expansive front yard with a lawn of dried prairie grasses. She'd driven by a dozen places just like it to get here.

A dog, a huge bristling wolfhound- looking thing, sprang from the front porch, barking loud and deep like a growling bear.

Evie almost turned and ran. Her father didn't have a dog. The front door opened and Frank Walker appeared, looking out over the driveway. "Mab! Come, Mab, it's all right."

The dog stopped barking and trotted back to him, throwing suspicious glances over its shoulder.

He scratched the dog's ears and took hold of the ruff of fur at its neck. "Come on up, Evie. Mab just gets a little excited." Cautiously, Evie continued to the porch. She had to lift her arm to show the animal the back of her hand- the thing's head came up to her waist. The dog sniffed her hand, then started wagging its tail. Evie hoped it didn't try jumping on her- it would be a body- slam.

"Meet Queen Mab," her father said.

"When did you get a dog?"

"She was a stray. Showed up on the porch a while back. Since I caught a couple of prowlers last month, I thought having Mab around might be a good thing."

"Prowlers? Out here?"

"Oh, prowlers, salesmen- you'd be surprised how many visitors I get."

In fact, someone was standing in the doorway behind him.

He wore a black leather duster and carried a large paper-wrapped package in both arms. Edging around Evie's father, he looked suspiciously at Evie.

Frank said to hi...

About this edition

• Publisher: Tor Fantasy
• Publication date: 2011
• ISBN 10: 076536459X
• ISBN 13: 9780765364593
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 368