Discordia: Short Stories from The Golden Apple of Discord

By Lauren Hodge

For every character in a novel there are stories that couldn't and shouldn't be told in one manuscript. In the first book of The Discord Trilogy, we meet Milunfran witches, vampires in hiding from powerful governments, deposed Dacian vampires, and current rulers of the vampire world, the Noricum. Together these characters create a layered and complex world that leaves us wanting more. But, just because there are stories not told in the novel, doesn't mean they are buried and gone forever. Discordia is a collection of behind the scene stories that give us a second course at a banquet The Golden Apple of Discord started.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lauren Hodge
• Release date: Jul 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499389395

Lauren Hodge

I'm Lauren Hodge, a chemist turned author with three children, a lot of friends no one else can see, and a swearing habit. Writing is something I stumbled into on accident. I was reading fiction for the first time as an adult and wondered if I could do it. It never crossed my mind to publish until my twin got a hold of my manuscripts and pressured me into it like the cool drug seeking kid from the After School Specials.Because of that, my books are different. I don't write because I have a story to tell. I write because there is a story inside my head and it's merely using my fingers to get out. I enjoy writing protagonists that are flawed and enemies that aren't. Not everyone is all good or all bad and I love the philosophical process of defining that grey area.There are two parts of communication. What is articulated and what is received for only the latter can compel action. You, the reader, are more important than me, the author. I relish understanding what you receive from my articulation. To help with that, I have editors - lots and lots of editors. Editors are the heroes authors need, but not the heroes they deserve. As an author, I strive every day to be worthy of professional editors.I'm the oldest of seven and have an identical twin/perfect organ donor.

Book preview

Discordia

Short Stories from

The Golden Apple of Discord

Book I of The Discord Trilogy

Copyright © Lauren Hodge 2014

First Edition by CreateSpace

Lauren Hodge has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the publisher’s prior permission in writing.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

ISBN-13: 978-1499389395

ISBN-10: 1499389396

This takes place during chapters one and two in The Golden Apple of Discord - Aggie of the Milunfran Toronto coven.

The dry erase boards at the front of the lecture hall are drenched with a litany of COS and SIN. They’d make more sense if the professor’s accent was English. Or French. Or American…anything but Chinese. Whoever thought having a Differential Equations instructor with a foreign accent was a good idea needs to be banished.

That has possibilities. A fire banishment sounds even better. The Yukon in the parking lot still has a set of element invocation elixirs Cora made months ago.

Thank Heaven it’s Friday.

My phone buzzes with a text…from Cora. "5+2X=13 what is X? Do I divide or subtract 5 from each side or what?"

Cora has an algebra class this semester, an algebra class. Not calculus, not statistics, just good old fashioned regular algebra, and she’s falling behind. How we’re twins I’ll never know.

As I start to type out a response, a prescient vision takes my sight. Seeing things before they happen is a magical blood power that immerses the senses. A wave of energy surges through my body, removing any visual reference I have to the present moment.

Standing in the middle of Wellesley Street, the morning sun shines down on my house. A floral delivery truck is parked next door in front of Mrs. Wong’s house. A run-down, windowless, blue van pulls up to the curb in front of my home and lurches to a stop out front. Two men in casual suits and one woman in an antique grey dress hop from the back, leaving the doors open.

One man and the woman go to my front door. The other man sneaks toward the back. Back in the idling van, another woman waits in the driver’s seat and another man in the passenger’s seat crouches to the floor.

With a simple twist the door knob completely breaks apart and the couple quickly enters the house.

My vision then shifts to the basement. Tara is under the stairs holding immolation elixirs. She’s cornered, wearing a bathrobe and up against three. The clock on the wall reads 10:24.

Without warning, the vision vanishes and I’m staring at equations. I look around and see no one is the wiser, but I need to record what I saw. The information in my visions is crucial to keeping my sisters safe and doing our job as Milunfran witches.

This is only a possible future, but it’s churning my stomach. I always get a sense of foreboding when a vision is of my sisters being attacked. Strange that it’s in our home. They must be daring creatures.

I pull a journal—kept there for exactly this reason—out of my pack and the details spill out.

Daytime, five creatures, all look human, Mrs. Wong’s Friday flowers being delivered next door, two in van, three break into the house, protective enchantments fail, Tara in bathrobe and wet hair, hiding under basement stairs with immolation elixirs, clock in basement reads 10:24.

I check my phone. The current time terrifies me.

10:12

The flowers come on Friday… Tara is in a robe with wet hair, fresh out of a shower, probably washing off our clubbing from last night…last night.

As I bolt from the lecture hall, my hands shakily dial Tara. No answer. I leave a voicemail to get out of the house now, and then I dial Cora. She’s in class, so it goes to voicemail as well. Running toward our car, I call her again. This time she answers, but I cut her off before she can speak.

Tara is in trouble and there’s no answer on her end. She’s going to be pinned in the basement against three human-looking creatures. The enchantments I put around the house won’t work. The flower truck is out front, this is happening in minutes!

Cora whispers, Meet me by the car.

I redial Tara’s cell and the house phone, but there’s still no answer. She was in a bathrobe in the vision. Is she in the shower right now? If she can’t hear the phone ring, she’s a sitting duck.

Cora bursts from the double doors at full speed. A group of students don’t move away fast enough and she doesn’t even slow down as they’re slammed to the side. Their shouts of protest don’t even register on Cora’s face as she sprints to the car and unlocks it.

She drives in case I get another vision.

Cora dials Ann on speakerphone. Ann picks up on the second ring. Cora shouts, Tara’s in trouble and headed toward the basement. We’re on our way there but she’s not picking up the phone. You need to warn her the enchantments don’t work on the attackers. They’ll be there in— she looks at me.

I check my watch and reply, In, like, three minutes.

Cora honks the horn at the cars sauntering through the parking lot. Get out of the way!

Drive on the sidewalk, I say.

Cora slams on the gas and rolls us onto the curb. Horns of other cars blare while we bounce around the cab, our tires squealing down the city street.

Ann whispers into the phone, I’m at the station, but I’ll go hide in a bathroom stall to stekie. Her astral projection like blood power will be much faster than waiting for Tara to pick up the phone.

Cora asks, What should I do if a cop tries to pull us over? You said she had immolation elixirs? The fear in her voice indicates she has more than police on her mind.

Yes, but the vision cuts off. They must not have a power to mimic if she’s resorting to elixirs, but she can hold them off until we get there.

An uneasy feeling creeps through my gut. When seconds count, the cops are just minutes away… We’re minutes away.

Over and over I dial and redial the house phone. Finally I hear a click. Someone picks up. Tara yells into the phone, Whatever you’re selling, go away!

TARA, GET OUT OF THE HOUSE!

Where are they coming from?

"The back and front door! We’re across town—I didn’t see anything until a few minutes ago."

There’s a rustling on the other end, and then the line goes silent. She needs stealth now, so I can’t call back. Visions are never this close to the event; what was I supposed to do with ten minutes of warning?

Cora concentrates on not killing us at the speeds she’s driving. 10:24 comes and goes without a call from anyone. At 10:32 we screech around the