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Summary
Summary
Kaleb Nation delivers an exceptional follow-up to his debut hit THE FARFIELD CURSE. In the SPECTER KEY magical hero Bran Hambric must choose to save his friend Astara, his father-and himself, if he possibly can.
Bran Hambric believes that the Farfield Curse is over with. But when he discovers a safe-deposit box in his dead mother's name-in the very bank vault where he was discovered as a boy-Bran's past comes rushing back. Now he's on a frightening path that puts everyone he cares about in danger.
When Bran's best friend, Astara, is kidnapped, Bran will do whatever it takes to save her and prevent the evil mage on his trail from claiming the power of the curse for herself. But will the magic destroy him the way it destroyed his mother?
Author Notes
On the third night of the third month in 2003, 14-year-old Kaleb Nation suddenly imagined a boy and a banker on a roof, waiting for a burglar to come. From that original idea was born the story of Bran Hambric. The novel would take most of Kaleb's teenage years to complete. Aside from writing, Kaleb is a blogger and former radio host; he is the creator of the wildly popular TwilightGuy.com. His personal website is KalebNation.com. He currently lives in Los Angeles, CA and is now 21.
Reviews (4)
Horn Book Review
In his second adventure, Bran Hambric, teen mage in a city that forbids magic, finds a box left by his long-dead mother. This leads to the Specter Key, which connects him to his past and results in the kidnapping of his friend, Astara. Nation employs movie-worthy action, but the story's irrelevant details and dangling plot lines make for a disjointed read. (c) Copyright 2011. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Booklist Review
Fifteen-year-old Bran, devastated by the death of his best friend, is caught between a conviction that Astara isn't really dead and the need to unravel the mystery of a box left him by his recently deceased mother. He is pushed and pulled through a series of crises until he finds himself in a face-off with the sinister mages who killed his friend. This action-driven sequel to The Farfield Curse (2009) is heavily dependent on knowledge of the previous title, and as in the first book, uneven writing and pacing lessen the impact of inventive landscapes and a few delightfully distinctive characters.--Welch, Cindy Copyright 2010 Booklist
School Library Journal Review
Gr 6-9-In Kaleb Nation's sequel (2010) to Bran Hambric: The Fairfield Curse (2009, both Sourcebooks Jabberwocky), Bran battles to save his friend, Astara, who has be snatched into the world of Specters. On the way, he meets people from his past and struggles to come to grips with his parents' identities. Like the first book, this one starts slowly as the author establishes the main conflicts and relationships of the story. The interaction between characters is complex, and their relationships with each other are not always clear. It is difficult to tell if Bran's attitude toward his foster family is affectionate or loathing or if his relationship with Astara is platonic or romantic. The pace picks up about halfway through the book, and Bran is hurled from one harrowing crisis to the next at dizzying speed. Nation creates a sparkling array of unusual settings and creatures that will appeal to fantasy aficionados. However, his tendency toward overstatement makes the narrative and dialogue come across as melodramatic, especially in the action sequences. Marc Thompson's vocal virtuosity makes up for some of the weaknesses in the writing. He gives each character a unique voice and portrays a full range of emotions for each of them, making it sound like a full-cast performance.-Donna Cardon, Provo City Library , UT (c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Kirkus Review
The author of Bran Hambric: The Fairfield Curse (2009) dishes up an equally maladroit sequel featuring the same sort of nonsensical plot, clumsy satirical elements and ham-fisted writing. Tucking in lines like, "It knew his name, which was enough to send terror through his skin," and, "the creature leapt forward, striking his finger with her teeth," Nation sends his young wizard-in-training on a rescue mission after a mysterious Key left him by his dead mother explodes with magic one random night and sucks the soul of his best friend/main squeeze Astara into a trap (her corpse conveniently disappears from its buried coffin some time later). Joined along the way by his previously unknown father and a Tinkerbell-style vampire fairy with obscure loyalties and motives, Bran eventually finds and destroys the trap (and the Keysupposedly, that is) in the sort of running battle with the mage who killed his mother that pauses while he dives into a lake to rescue the miraculously alive Astara and ends with everyone pretty much back where they started, poised for the next episode. Not a stand-alone, or, for that matter, a stand-at-all. (Fantasy. 11-13)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Excerpts
Excerpts
Chapter 1
The Woman and the Briefcase
Elspeth waited for him at the gas station.
A single row of tall pumps sat in front of the building like rust-colored phantoms staring out into the night. Stalks of wispy grass cut through cracks in the parking lot gravel and waved in the breeze, the windows of the store broken and the car wash devoid of life. No cars passed on that road-no one took that old route through the dark, sandy hills anymore. But it was where Elspeth waited, and it was where she knew he would arrive.
If anyone had passed on the deserted road, no one would have seen her in the darkness. She stood alone, her black hair blowing behind her, a streak of white dashed through it, arms crossed over the black wand hidden inside her long coat. The skies were clear, but the moon hardly shone on her face, waiting and emotionless.
An old gray van pulled off the road, one of the windows taped over with a ripped trash bag that flapped intermittently. The van jerked to a halt in the middle of the lot, and the door snapped open, creaking as a man slid out. He was short and overweight with a greasy face, hair graying and eyes bloodshot from long hours in front of a computer screen. He jumped when Elspeth stepped out, but when he recognized her, he pulled a
briefcase from the van. His gaze darted around, wary, as he had every right to be. She was wanted by every Magic Investigational Police officer in the world-but she had offered him a reward he could not refuse.
"Cold night, eh?" he said as he came forward, licking his lips with anticipation, wrapping his torn coat closely to his body. His gaze searched the hills around them.
"I presume you got it," Elspeth said. She glanced at the brief¬case, and even that small movement made him shuffle back a step.
"Money first," he demanded. "Like you promised. Had to knife through m'best mate to get these, so I'm not leaving with¬out the money."
"Very well," Elspeth said, drawing a leather bag from its resting place against the worn bricks. She passed it to him, and he took it with shaking hands.
"Count it," she said. "Hopefully it's enough to pay for your friend's casket."
He dug through the bag. It nearly slid from his fat, sweaty hands, but when he looked up, his eyes were bright.
"A casket of pure gold," he said with a harsh laugh. "Combination is 1-1-9 on the right, 1-9-5 on the left." He shoved the briefcase into her hand. She spun the dials and glanced at the contents within. "It's all there," he said to her. "The tapes, the papers, all of it. I broke the passwords to the third level administration of the Mages Council database, but that's as far as I got. If there's anything deeper, no one's going to get it besides the Primirus or the Archmages."
"Everything I need is here," she confirmed after a few moments.
The man nodded his head in farewell, but froze mid-bow, his gaze trained over Elspeth's shoulder. A pair of searing blue eyes moved in the grass behind her. Elspeth stepped to the side.
"I'm finished with him," she said, and something leapt from the darkness with a shriek that echoed against the hills. The man dropped the money and screamed horribly, falling back to the pavement, cursing and struggling, but the creature caught him by his leg, snarling in his face. The man gave one final gurgling, screamed curse before his voice was abruptly cut short by a crack and a tear. But Elspeth was already reading the papers and paid him no attention.
"Let it feed, Joris," she said as another man appeared out of the shadows of the station. "After it's done, drag what's left to his van and burn it. Let that be his casket."
Joris kept his eyes from the gruner as it fed, a shock of blond hair going to his shoulders and his strong gaze hardly wavering, even as the horrible sounds echoed in the emptiness. Elspeth stepped around the building and held the papers up so she could see the words in the faint moonlight.
Presently, the gruner loped to her side, brushing against her leg, its body like a giant dog standing on its back paws, crouched low, black with sharp bristling fur that flexed across its muscu¬lar back and head. Two blade-like tusks protruded from its lips, bearing dirty bits of the man's jacket. Its cobalt eyes were no longer hungry.
"I've covered the van with gasoline," Joris said when he returned. "We should be moving before I set it off."
"Very well," she said. She clicked the briefcase's lid shut. "I have found the answers we seek."
"They have the Key?" Joris asked.
She gave a small, dark smile. "No, they do not." Elspeth's voice carried a hint of resignation. "Which means Emry passed it on to someone before she left-either physically or by desire. I do not know."
A harsh ringing sound near Joris pierced the quiet. Shoving his hand into his pocket, he drew out a silver cell phone. The front was lit with the caller ID, and Joris blinked when he saw it: the single letter T.
"It's him," Joris breathed.
"Answer it," she said. He hesitated but finally flipped it open.
"Hello, Joris, chilly night isn't it?" came the voice of a man on the other end, almost before Joris had a chance to turn on the speakerphone.
"Haven't heard from you in a few months," Joris said flatly. "Trouble with the police?"
The man on the other end chuckled. "I think after nearly a decade they'd have given up on us. Tell me...did my directions lead you to Bran?"
Joris stiffened. "They were correct."
"But he proved to be as difficult as I said, did he not?" the man's voice went on. "I thought you might be able to handle it, but I guess not."
"And how would you know that?" Joris hissed. "You wouldn't be living if you came within a hundred feet of me."
The man on the phone gave another laugh. "Wouldn't I?" he said. "What about sending Shambles alone, twice? You, seeing Bran at the tavern?"
 Joris's eyes narrowed, and he looked to Elspeth, who forced him to be quiet.
"Sounds like you blundered it plenty," the man reproved. "I thought I had him sitting on a plate for you. I can forgive others, but when you lost him at the garage-?"
"That's enough!" Joris couldn't contain his rage any longer. "What do you want, before I go back to that house and murder the boy right now?"
"You wouldn't dare try that," the man said slyly. "You know the boy's powers. You can't risk being caught-not with what you have at stake now that Baslyn is gone."
Joris clenched his teeth, and the man spoke again. "Elspeth, I see you're there as well."
She stood up straighter, glancing over her shoulder in a jerk she could not hide. A flower on the edge of the concrete wa¬vered in the wind. Her gaze swept from it to the grass. Nothing.
"I have a proposal for you," he said, his voice soft. "A deal that could get you the Specter Key and Bran at the same time."
Elspeth lifted her chin slightly.
"I see on your face you would enjoy Bran out of the way," the man went on, and Elspeth's eyes darted around, still perceiving no one.
"But you want the Key more," the man finished. "And I know how to get it."
Excerpted from Bran Hambric: The Specter Key by Kaleb Nation All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.