The Luthier's Apprentice
by
Mayra Calvani
Title: The
Luthier’s Apprentice
Author: Mayra
Calvani
Genre: YA
Paranormal Fantasy
MY REVIEW:
Violinists are disappearing. Emma is
sent to live with her grandfather while her mother is away visiting
her sick aunt. This is a quick, well-written read. I thought the
characters were interesting and the story was intriguing enough to
draw me in and keep my interest. 4 stars.
Promo
blurb:
Niccolò
Paganini (1782-1840), one of the greatest violinists who ever lived
and rumored to have made a pact with the devil, has somehow
transferred unique powers to another…
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…
Author
bio:
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:
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?
.jpg)
.jpg)
.jpg)
