Discord's Apple

“Dead?” Alex said. Her father nodded.

Evie felt for remorse, but it was a distant, tired thing. Weakly, she said, “I didn’t hit him that hard.”

Nodding at the skillet, Alex said, “Cold iron. Magnificent. Even better than rowan.”

“Dad?”

Her father had slumped against the wall. Mab whined and stepped toward him, nuzzling him. He winced and held her away. Evie went to help him up, but he pushed her away as well.

“How did he get in?” Alex said. “I thought the house was protected.”

Her father said, “It’s gone. I woke up. I felt it go.”

“Me, too,” Evie said. She listened, uncertain what she expected to hear, unclear what she expected to find when she stretched her mind like she would reach with her hand. She visualized the shape of the house, and knew that there should have been a second skin around it, a force to keep people like Hera away.

Instead, harsh wind knocked against the windowpanes, and the thunder came closer. The Storeroom was unprotected. The end, the end. But it still spoke to her. The core of it remained. She was still the heir.

“Where are Arthur and Merlin?” Alex said.

Evie and Alex stood together, helping each other up. He let go of her hand as he raced to the kitchen door, opened it and stopped on the threshold. Evie crowded behind him, looking out.

Full-bodied black thunderheads roiled above, moving faster than the wind that buffeted the house, some of them swirling in the wrong direction. This was the kind of storm that wreaked havoc on the Great Plains in the middle of summer, spilling lightning and tornadoes on fragile, unsuspecting towns. Gouts of dust rolled across the plain and smacked into the house, with the rattling sound of hail.

The thunderhead spun its circle above the Walker house.

In a flash of lightning, a figure appeared on the porch. He’d run up the steps, a shadow in the wind. Startled, Evie flinched back, and Alex stepped in front of her, his arm spread protectively. But it was Arthur. He carried Excalibur, which shone bright silver, even in the darkness. Blood streaked the blade.

“I’ve been fighting off more animals round back. Are tigers native to this part of the world?”

Weakly, Evie shook her head.

“Are you well?”

“Evie killed the hob goblin,” Alex said, grinning happily at her.

Arthur nodded and made a pleased-sounding grunt. “Well done.”

Evie decided they were both so cheerful because they were in their element, surrounded by danger, doing battle.

Merlin came over the edge of the roof. He rolled off, dropped, seemed to hang in the air for a moment, then landed on his feet. He brushed off his shirt and trousers as he rushed to the porch. Even his short gray hair tossed in the fierce wind.

“They have some sort of witch with them,” Merlin said, raising his voice to be heard. “The storm is hers. She’s well protected. I can’t get to her.” He frowned thoughtfully. “I’ve always had a bit of a weak spot with enchantresses.”

“I can’t fight the winds, Merlin. You must do something.”

Her father arrived at the doorway. Evie stepped aside to give him room. His skin was pale, drained. His face lined with pain. He seemed to move in slow motion.

“Evie, go to the basement.”

The old tornado drill. “What about you?”

“I’m going to give it to her.” He turned his hand, revealing what he’d been holding tucked against his stomach. The golden apple. He must have taken it from her jacket in the bedroom, picked out from the wreckage of the door where it had been hanging.

Alex’s hand clenched on her shoulder. But Evie didn’t move.

“You can’t do that,” she pleaded weakly. “It’ll give her everything—”

“No, it won’t. Evie—she can’t have the Storeroom. It holds objects more powerful than the apple. Our duty is to protect them. Even if we have to make sacrifices.”