Carrie Vaughn - Discord's Apple

In a moment of irrational panic, she remembered her laptop and the thousand words or so she’d produced that morning. Her heart sinking, she checked the living room next, dreading what she’d find on the screen.

The battery had saved her. Her work was intact, and knowing full well she was luckier than she had any right to be, she saved the file and shut down the machine. Now to check on her father.

Merlin and Arthur stood in the kitchen. The sword seemed to fill the room.

She retrieved her mobile phone and dialed Johnny Brewster’s number.

“We’re sorry, your call cannot be completed—”

She clicked off the phone with a huff and started pacing.

“What’s happening?” Arthur said.

“Phone lines are down. Electricity’s out. I’m worried about my dad.” She wondered if she’d have to explain telephones and electricity to the ancient warrior, but he didn’t seem confused.

“My lady, if my sword may be of any use to you, command me.”

She felt dizzy, lurching with a moment of displacement. Despite the leather coat and blue jeans, he was a knight. He held his sword like he knew how to use it, his stance was ready. He had said “my lady” like he meant it. The late nights reading Tolkien and dreaming of kings, her thirteen-year-old’s daydreams, came rushing back.

“Thank you,” she said. “I think what I really need to do is find my dad, to make sure he’s all right. I’m sure you all have . . . better things to do. Than hang around here, I mean.”

Merlin crossed his arms. “Do you think it coincidence that such a tremor shook the earth at the very moment he—” He gestured significantly at Arthur. “—claimed his birthright? I believe our destiny lies here.”

Evie considered, and for some reason thought of Hera on her doorstep. If she had to blame the earthquake on anyone, it would be her. “Yeah, actually, I think it is a coincidence. Sorry.” Merlin scowled. Evie found her car keys and headed for the door.

Mab bounced in place beside her, bumping her nose against Evie’s hip, whining, and shoving all the way to the door. With her bulk, the wolfhound significantly impeded her progress. “Mab, get out of my way! Back off!”

Mab dashed ahead and planted herself in front of the kitchen door. She wasn’t so impolite as to growl, but Evie thought she looked like she wanted to. Her ears were flat, her gaze threatening. Mab didn’t want her to leave.

Gently, Arthur said, “Wouldn’t he come home, if something were wrong? Wouldn’t someone contact you? Perhaps you should wait.”

What a sane and reasonable suggestion. She rubbed her face and slumped against the wall. Mab wagged her tail apologetically.

“We could look for him, if you like.”

“No, we can’t,” Merlin said. “Mr. Walker can take care of himself, I’m sure.”

His face alight and eager, Arthur was almost bouncing. “It’s a scouting mission, Merlin. I won’t have a chance to do anything like this once the troubles start.”

“We don’t know this town, we don’t know what’s out there—there may be more earthquakes. Besides, you have a destiny.”

“And what am I supposed to do—camp out here until that destiny sneaks up on me and pounces? I’d rather be doing something.”

Merlin glared at the warrior for all the world like a parent with a hyperactive child. He straightened, and said with utmost patience, “What does Miss Walker say?”

Arthur turned that brilliant, boyish expression on her. She couldn’t help but smile back. She was beginning to understand what it meant to have a destiny sneak up on you and pounce.

“I’d really appreciate it if you could find out if he’s okay.”

Arthur lifted a brow and grinned at Merlin, as if saying, You see?

Merlin grumbled under his breath for a moment. “A scouting mission, eh?”

“A short one.”

Exhaling a long-suffering breath, the old man said, “All right.”

Evie swore Arthur did a little celebratory arm-jerk, like a teenager who’d gotten the car for the night.

She found the belt and scabbard for Excalibur in the Storeroom. Arthur wouldn’t be parted from the sword, no matter how strange he’d look striding down Main Street with the weapon slung on his person. “I’ll tell them I’m in a play,” he said, as if he’d had to deal with the problem before.

She saw them off from the front porch.

“We’ll return as soon as we have news,” Arthur said. He bowed, a gracious gesture that made Evie’s heart flutter. Where was this guy when I was in high school and giddy?

The earthquake was the signal to move.

It quickly put the town in an uproar. People weren’t used to this sort of thing here. Once the phones cut out and the power lines went down, chaos took over. The Curandera had promised only that the main roads leading into town would be impassable. The rest worked nicely, however. No one could reach the town by any other method, either.

Robin watched the park in front of Town Hall from an unobtrusive doorway.

The police officer with Frank Walker dropped the old man off at the police station, to assist with the Red Cross. Frank complained, argued, and harangued the younger man, who had thought he was being sly about putting Frank in the least-strenuous job possible. Frank, it seemed, was doing his best to deny his illness. The officer—his name was Johnny—kept trying to tell Frank how much he was needed at the station. It turned out, when people started gathering at the station because the power was out and their phones were dead, Frank really was needed to help settle them down, while the uniformed officers patrolled the town to assess the damage.

A line had formed in front of Frank, who stood on the dried-up lawn in front of the police station directing people to the Red Cross shelter, which had already been set up in a tent in the town park; they were distributing coffee and fielding calls on a satellite phone. He held a clipboard, where he wrote down specific problems: buildings that had collapsed or looked like they were going to, gas or water lines that might have ruptured. Mostly he assured people, in a steady, confident voice, that everything was under control. Didn’t matter if they really were; he only had to tell people they were. The usual government statement.

Robin cut to the front of the line.

“I really need someone to help me,” Robin said, gripping Frank’s elbow.

Frank tried to gently brush him away. “Sir, if you’ll just get in line with the others—”

“I think my wife is in labor.” It was the most persuasive thing Robin could think to say.

It worked. Frank’s eyes got wide. He gave the clipboard to the next person in line and put his hand on Robin’s back, urging him forward.

Robin led him around the corner, down a side lane, to the back of the building, where the Wanderer’s rented sedan was waiting. The Wanderer stood at the open back door.

“This way, right here!” Robin said when the old man seemed to lag. He pointed at the car. He didn’t keep up the act; he couldn’t help but grin. Frank suspected. Brow furrowed, he looked at Robin, the Wanderer, the car, and back to Robin, as if he knew who they were.

Before he could bolt, the Wanderer said, “Mr. Walker, we really need you to get in.”

His voice sent a chill down even Robin’s spine. Frank turned pale. Robin couldn’t exactly say what the Wanderer was or what power he wielded. Mostly it was his attitude, the implications behind his stonelike gaze, his unflappable manner. It was like the man had looked into hell and would be more than happy to tell you what he had seen there. And he would do so in that flat, emotionless tone of voice.

He didn’t need to carry a weapon or make threats to get people to do what he wanted. Robin took Frank’s arm and guided him into the car, closing the door behind him.