Discord's Apple

“A turn of phrase, milady,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Yet you will be amazed at my speed, startled at the thoroughness with which I complete my task, awed by the—”

“Robin—don’t overexert yourself, hm? This is only just starting.”

“I hear you and obey.” He bowed and blew her a kiss, though the look in his eyes

was dark, and walked out the door in a perfectly casual manner.

She went to the bathroom to draw a hot bath, sighing at the Fates that left her to make deals with one such as him. Still, she’d had worse servants, even at the height of her power. She wouldn’t make an enemy of someone who could help her. So few these days had the skills she needed. A hedge-witch here, a self-styled magician there—obscure saints of obscure miracles. Under her guidance, they’d become useful. She hadn’t been able to find the Walkers herself, but she had found the Marquis, and he had found someone else searching for the Storeroom, and the path became clear.

That man who’d been at the Walker house—he might be another one she could use. The daughter hadn’t even seemed aware that the house was protected, but the man . . . She hadn’t heard that language spoken in three thousand years. How had he survived from that time?

And how could she use him to her advantage?

Her father didn’t leave the house the next day, which made Evie both relieved and worried. She didn’t want him going out, to collapse somewhere and need help without anyone nearby. But how sick was he, to feel like he couldn’t go out?

She tried to put her mind on her work.

Here was Tracker, sick with worry about Talon, distracted from her own task. She should have gone with him. That’s when Jeeves says, “You’re in love with him.” It’s out now. She can deny it or ignore it. She remains immobile, mired in indecision and uncertainty.

Evie stared at the screen, mired in indecision.

Whenever she felt like she’d written herself into a corner, she inserted a battle. Attacked by terrorists, chase scene here. She’d have to answer Jeeves’s statement later.

After lunch, she told her father she was going to catch up with friends. He’d spent much of the day in his armchair in the living room, reading, as if nothing were wrong. He didn’t say much to her when she left. She gave him her cell phone number, told him to call her if he needed anything, anything at all.

Either he would or he wouldn’t.

Mab was napping in the kitchen. Evie knelt by her, resting her hand on the dog’s head. “Look after him, ’kay?” Mab’s tail thumped the floor. Her dark eyes were liquid and earnest.

The Prairie Schooner had been Hopes Fort’s only motel since the fifties. These days, it was owned by Carlos and Gracie Alvarez. Evie had gone to school with their sons.

“Hi, Mr. Alvarez,” she said to the family patriarch, who sat behind the counter. It didn’t matter that she was all grown up now; he’d always be Mr. Alvarez. He was a middle-aged man with paunch and thinning hair. He hadn’t changed at all in the last ten years. She seemed to remember that his sons, Stu and Harry, were living in Pueblo now.

“Well, Evie Walker, hello.” He stood and offered a friendly handshake, which she bore amiably. “What brings you back to town? You need a room?”

“No, I’m seeing my dad for Christmas.”

“Sure. Hey, I heard that he—I mean, if there’s anything—” He let the offer end with a shrug.

He’s not dead yet, she wanted to growl. Did everyone in town know? Were there signs up at the Safeway?

“Thanks. Actually, I have a question for you. Do you have a guy staying here? About this tall, dark hair, kind of tough looking.” Was Alex tough looking? She seemed to remember his frame being on the thin side. But capable. Handsome even? “Wears a big felt jacket. Also a woman, maybe in her thirties, elegant, well dressed. But they’re not together. Probably.” This wasn’t making sense.

He didn’t even have to stop and think. “Nope. I’ve only got three rooms filled right now, the usual holiday crowd. Relatives’ places are overflowing, so they come here. Two families with young kids and one older woman.”

“You haven’t had anyone like them in the last week or so?”

“No. ’Fraid not.”

No standoffish single guys, nothing unusual. Alex would certainly stand out, if he were staying here. “Right. Thanks. So—how’s business?”

He shrugged. “People don’t travel much these days. But we get by.”

“How are Stu and Harry?” Carlos Alvarez rambled on about them and their families—they had a rapidly growing collection of children, Evie gathered. She listened politely. If she hadn’t wanted to sit through the report, she shouldn’t have asked the question. Finally, she was able to work in, “Well, tell them I said hello.”

“I sure will. You tell your dad to take care of himself.”

If only she could.