The Paper Magician (The Paper Magician Trilogy, #1)(21)

Loud footfalls like sarcastic applause sounded in the hallway. Hard shoes with heels. Ceony stepped forward, but Mg. Thane held out his arm, stopping her. All the mirth had vanished from his face. He looked altered—not cheery nor distracted, but stony. Taller, and his coat seemed to bristle about him like a wild cat’s fur.

A woman stepped into the dining room. She was stunning—tall with long, waving hair such a dark brown it looked almost black, coffee-colored eyes, and fair skin without the slightest trace of freckles. She donned a black shirt well fitted to her rather ample figure, and tight pants with panels over the knees. She wore two-inch gray heels that fastened with two cords around her ankles.

There was something familiar about her. It took Ceony only seconds to pinpoint where she’d seen this woman’s face before.

The fortuity box.

Mg. Thane paled. “Lira?”

Ceony’s stomach sank. That was all the response her body could manage before the woman stepped forward, a vial of dark-red liquid clutched in her hand.

It happened in a blur. Mg. Thane grabbed Ceony’s arm and tried to pull her behind him, but the woman, Lira, dribbled the red liquid into her hand and flung it toward Ceony, shouting, “Blast!”

An impact like a giant fist slammed into Ceony. It knocked the air from her lungs and sent her flying into the corner of the table, hard enough that the table turned over with the impact, dumping its still-hot contents over the floor with a loud crash as ceramic plates split into hundreds of pieces across the hardwood. Ceony’s backside slammed into the dining room wall, and she slumped to the floor.

Everything went black for a moment, then morphed into shadows and light. Ceony blinked several times as something else thumped against the wall nearby—she felt the vibrations through the wood. Her vision clear and her back throbbing, she lifted her head to see Mg. Thane pressed against the wall, held up by invisible hands. He struggled to speak, but something unseen held his jaw closed. The artery on the side of his neck had swollen.

Ceony looked at her hands, spotting blood on them. She panicked for a split second until she realized the blood was cold and not her own. The liquid Lira had thrown at her—blood.

Her whole body froze.

Blood.

Flesh magic.

Lira was an Excisioner. A practitioner of the forbidden craft.

Ceony looked back up to see Lira grab Mg. Thane’s collar and rip it down clear to his sternum, exposing his chest. “I’m finally leaving, dearie,” she whispered, “and I’m taking you with me.”

She plunged her right hand into his chest. Ceony stifled a cry. A golden ring of dust sparkled about Lira’s wrist as Mg. Thane screamed between clenched teeth. Lira pulled her red-stained hand back out, clasping a still-beating heart between her bloodied fingers.

Sweat beaded on Ceony’s forehead and temples. Her own heart sped in her chest, making her dizzy.

Put your head down! she thought, skin cold. She tried to feign unconsciousness, but her body trembled and tears drizzled from her eyes. If this woman could so easily defeat Mg. Thane, then she would kill Ceony in an instant. She likely had meant to.

The heels clicked against the floor. Ceony opened her eyes, peering between toppled chairs. Lira dripped several droplets of Thane’s blood into her palm, smiled, then threw the blood to the floor. She vanished in a swirl of red smoke.

Ceony cried out the moment the woman faded. Scrambling to her feet, her hips screaming with deep-set bruises, she ran to Mg. Thane. Before she reached him, the spell holding him up wore off and he slumped to the floor.





CHAPTER 6



“NO, NO!” CEONY CRIED, tears streaming readily from her cheeks. She put an arm behind Mg. Thane’s neck and laid him down, gaping at the deep, scarlet hole in his chest, still rimmed with glittering gold magic. The hole grew smaller and smaller with each of her own heartbeats.

Fennel whined beside her, an airy, paper whine. Ceony, shaking, looked to the dog, then back to Mg. Thane, his skin growing paler and paler with each passing second.

She bolted upright and ran for the study, knocking a kitchen chair out of her way as she went.

Her mind swirled, her legs felt numb, and her hands perspired as she climbed over rubble in the hallway that had once been the front door and threw herself into the study. She ran for the shelves of paper, frantically sifting through them until she found a thicker piece. Not the thickest, but she had no time to be choosy.

She ran back into the dining room and slipped on spilled blood. She stumbled onto her knees and winced, but began Folding right there, against the wooden floorboards. She didn’t know the Folds—she couldn’t—but she had to try.

Visions of Mg. Thane’s handiwork zoomed through her mind. His Folding of the bird, the fish, the fortuity box. The paper trinkets, sculptures, and chains lying around the house. The few lessons on paper magic she had taken notes on at the school. The half-point Fold, the full-point Fold. Folds she didn’t know the names of. Anything. Just line the edges up.

She Folded the paper in half, then in half again, working it until she had the square that started Mg. Thane’s long-necked bird. From there she made up the rest, her brain summoning images from Anatomy of the Human Body. Her hands stilled. It looked something like a heart. Something like it . . .

She crawled to Mg. Thane, to the still-closing pit in his chest, and commanded the heart, “Breathe!”