Title: The
Luthier’s Apprentice
Author:
Mayra
Calvani
Promo
blurb:
When
violinists around the world mysteriously vanish, 16-year-old Emma Braun takes
notice. But when her beloved violin teacher disappears… Emma takes
charge. With Sherlock Holmes fanatic, not to mention gorgeous Corey Fletcher,
Emma discovers a parallel world ruled by an ex-violinist turned evil sorceress
who wants to rule the music world on her own terms.
But why are only men violinists captured and not women? What
is the connection between Emma's family, the sorceress, and the infamous
Niccolò Paganini?
Emma must unravel the mystery in order to save her teacher
from the fatal destiny that awaits him. And undo the curse
that torments her family—before evil wins and she becomes the next luthier's
apprentice…
Chapter
excerpt:
Award-winning
author Mayra Calvani has penned over ten books for children and adults in
genres ranging from picture books to nonfiction to paranormal fantasy novels.
She’s had over 300 articles, short stories, interviews and reviews published in
magazines such as The Writer, Writer’s
Journal and Bloomsbury Review,
among others. A native of San Juan, Puerto Rico, she now resides in Brussels,
Belgium.
Connect with the author on the
Web:
Facebook Fan Page: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Mayra-Calvanis-Fan-Page/162383023775888
Twitter: https://twitter.com/mcalvani
Purchase links:
The Luthier’s Apprentice
Chapter One
Brussels,
Belgium
Present
day
Sixteen-year old Emma Braun got off the school bus and
strode down Stockel Square toward her home. She glanced up at the October sky
and wrapped her wool scarf tighter around her neck. Heavy dark clouds
threatened a downpour.
As she passed a newspaper stand, the headlines on
The Brussels Gazette caught her attention:
ANOTHER VIOLINIST VANISHES!
Emma stopped. For a moment she could only stare. She dug
into her jacket pocket for coins and bought a
copy.
The newspaper article left her stunned. Not only because
three well-known violinists had gone missing in the last several months, but
because the latest one was her teacher, Monsieur
Dupriez.
The news story seemed so hard to believe, she stopped at
the next street corner to read it one more time.
It was the last week of October, and the shops and homes
were lightly adorned with Halloween decorations. Pumpkins and Jack-o-lanterns
sat on doorsteps. Witches, broomsticks, and black cats hunkered down in windows
and shops. Just last evening, Emma had sauntered along this street with her
best friend Annika, unconcerned and looking forward to Halloween. Now,
everything had turned dark and ominous.
The strange incidents she had experienced for the past two
weeks added to her stress.
At
first she had thought they were a string of coincidences, but not anymore.
While scowling at obnoxious Billie Lynam during school recess, for instance,
she wished he would fall flat on his face… and half a minute later, her wish
was granted. On various occasions she guessed people’s thoughts before they
spoke. And yesterday, on her way home from school, she accurately guessed the
meal her mom had left on the table for her.
Was she some kind of a psychic? If so, why now? People
didn’t develop powers like these overnight. Did they?
She hadn’t told her mom about her new abilities yet; only
Annika knew. Maybe she would tell her mom today, after she shared the news
about Monsieur Dupriez.
As Emma approached her home, she quickened her step. By
the time she reached the door she was almost running. She raced into the
hallway and dropped her book bag on the floor.
“Mom!” she called, looking in the kitchen, then in the
living room. The house was silent. “Mom!” she called again, racing up the
stairs to the bedrooms. Entering her mother’s room, Emma found her sitting very
still on the bed with a crumpled letter in her hand.
When her mom saw her, she hastily put the crumpled piece
of paper into her pocket and rose from the bed. Her arched brows were furrowed
with anxiety.
Emma momentarily forgot the newspaper article. “Are you
okay, Mom?”
“I’ve just received some unsettling news,” her mom said.
“I must make a trip to see your Aunt Lili. She’s ill. She…I don’t know how long
I’ll be gone.”
Aunt Lili? Emma frowned. More surprises. Emma had never
met her mom’s eccentric only sister, who lived alone in the Hungarian mountains
secluded in an old chateau surrounded by dark woods—or so her mom said. Though
again, her mom hardly ever mentioned her.
“What’s wrong with Aunt Lili?” Emma asked. “Can’t I come
with you?” She had always been intrigued by her mysterious aunt.
“No. You’ll stay with Grandpa. You enjoy working with him,
don’t you?” Her brown eyes met Emma’s before turning away, and though her voice
sounded matter-of-fact, Emma detected a trace of ambivalence.
Emma sighed. She loved violin making with a passion, but
Grandpa was a bitter taskmaster. No matter how much she tried to please him,
she never could. Maybe that’s why her mom often seemed so reluctant about her
apprenticeship.
“I’d rather go with you,” Emma said. “Plus, next week is
holiday.” All Saints holiday week—or Toussaint, as they
called it here—almost always coincided with Halloween.
“That’s out of the question. I don’t know how long I’ll be
gone. Besides, you can’t miss your violin lessons, not with the Christmas
competition at the academy coming up
soon.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Emma said gravely, extending
the newspaper.
Her
mom took it. “What’s this?”
“This is why I came running up the
stairs.”
Her mom read the headlines. She gasped and looked at Emma.
When she finished reading, she sat on the edge of the mattress and stared into
space. “Oh, my God...” she whispered.
Emma sat next to her mom. “It says Monsieur Dupriez
disappeared in his study. The doors and windows were locked from the inside.
The police don’t have any explanation. How can this happen? It’s not logical.
It’s not humanly possible.”
“No, not humanly possible…”
“Just like the other three—that German violinist, the
French one, the American. Nobody has explained their disappearances. Who would
want to kidnap violinists?” When her mom didn’t answer, she began to gnaw at
her fingernail.
As if by reflex, her mom pulled Emma’s hand away from her
mouth.
“Sorry,” Emma mumbled. “I’m just worried about
him.”
“Poor Madame Dupriez. We must visit her. She must be in
quite a state.”
“Can
you call her now?”
Her mom sighed. “I will. In a moment.” She looked at Emma,
her features softening. Gently, she smoothed Emma’s glossy chestnut locks and
side fringe away from her face. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine. You
mustn’t be afraid.”
“Afraid?
Why would I be afraid?”
“I mean, about Monsieur Dupriez.” Her mom appeared
flustered.
“I’m not afraid. I’m worried, and angry. I want to find
out what happened to him. Without him, I don’t even want to take part in the
competition.”
Monsieur Dupriez had been Emma’s teacher since she was
four years old. But more than teacher, he was her
mentor.
“You will do your best at the competition—with or without
Monsieur Dupriez. Do you hear me?” her mom said. Then her voice softened.
“Listen, darling, I know how close you are to Monsieur Dupriez, but you cannot
allow his disappearance to destroy your chances at the competition. I’m not
asking you to win, only to do your best. You have great talent, a gift, and
your duty is to use it to the best of your ability. Never forget this. Monsieur
Dupriez would never want you to forget this.”
“You still haven’t told me what’s wrong with Aunt Lili,”
Emma said, changing the conversation. “Why must you go to her now, after all
these years?”
Looking into Emma’s face, her mom hesitated, as if unable
to decide what—or how much—to say. “You know she’s always been ill, a recluse.
She…” She rose from the bed and walked to the window, then opened the curtain.
It had started raining, the drops pelted against the glass. “This time it’s
serious. She may die.”
Emma couldn’t help feeling a twinge of suspicion. She
hated distrusting her mom, whom she loved more than anything in the world, but
this time her mom was lying. Emma trusted that feeling, another of her freaky
new abilities. She felt an overwhelming urge to chew her fingernails, but tried
to control herself. For her mom, a violinist’s hands were a work of
art.
“But what’s wrong with her? What kind of disease does she
have?” Emma insisted.
“Her heart is very weak.” Her mom turned away from the
window to face Emma. Her voice was laced with impatience.
And again Emma thought: She’s
lying.
“Please don’t worry about it,” her mom went on in a
lighter tone. “I’ll try to come back
soon.”
“How
soon?”
“As soon as I can
manage.”
“Grandpa is always in such a nasty mood,” Emma complained.
“Well, that isn’t news, is it?” Her mom stared down at the
floor, as if absorbed by her own thoughts. After a pause, she added, “He’s old
and his back always hurts. You know that.”
“I love Grandpa, but he’s so freaking…” She tried to come
up with the right word. Bizarre. Instead she said,
“Mysterious. You know, with his
violins.”
Her mom looked at Emma and frowned, as if waiting for her
to say more.
“You know what I mean, Mom. With that room at the top of
the stairs. The one that’s always locked.”
Her mom’s features hardened. “He keeps his most valuable
pieces in there. You must never disobey him. He would be very disappointed.”
“Who said I would go in there?” Emma asked, trying to
sound innocent. If there was something she intended to do, it was going inside
that room. Once she’d almost been successful. For some crazy reason, Grandpa
had forgotten to lock it one day. But the instant she touched the doorknob, he
had called her from the bottom of the stairs, his wrinkled features twisted
into a mask that had left her frozen. He had appeared enraged and afraid at the
same time.
“When are you leaving?” Emma asked, shaking off the past
to focus on the present issue.
“As soon as possible. Tomorrow, probably. I’ll get the
plane tickets today.”
“Mom...”
“Emma, please. If you’re going to complain or say anything
negative, I don’t want to hear
it.”
Fine. Obviously, this wasn’t the
best time to bring up her new psychic powers. She headed to the
door.
“Where are you going?” her mom asked.
“To my
room.”
“I’ll call Madame Dupriez to see if we may visit her after
dinner. In the meantime, I want you to pack. You’re moving to Grandpa’s
tomorrow.”
In her room, Emma dragged her suitcase from the top shelf
in the closet and set it on the floor.
“Hi, Sweetie,” she said to Blackie, her rabbit. “Want to
get some exercise?” She opened the cage door so Blackie could hop out and roam
about her room. Blackie was housebroken, and smart as a cat—or close to it.
She stared at the elegant taffeta gown hanging from her
wardrobe door, a strapless design a la Anne Sophie Mutter she’d already bought
for the upcoming violin competition.
She
sighed.
Slumped on the bed, Emma wondered for the umpteenth time
about Monsieur Dupriez’s strange disappearance.
Where
could he be?
No comments:
Post a Comment