The Glass Magician (The Paper Magician Trilogy #2)(25)

The room seemed small, and Ceony hadn’t spied another magician. Wherever the Gaffer was hiding, Grath hadn’t given him orders to make a transfer to this larger mirror he now used.

“We never got to finish our conversation,” Grath said, his lips pulling back to reveal that feline smile. “You were about to explain a spell to me.”

Ceony’s heart pulsed in her throat. Her feet grew cold. Could Grath possibly be . . . but how? It was only possible for a magician to bond with one material.

“It’s you,” she whispered.

Grath raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Mirrors are eyes to anyone who knows how to use them,” Ceony repeated, her stomach swirling. “You’re . . . you’re not an Excisioner. You’re a Gaffer.”

Grath laughed, a hearty sound that would have shattered his mirror had it been just a little louder. “How astute of you,” he said. “Our little secret, hmm? A mistake I made a long time ago. But I want to remedy it, Ceony. In fact, I’m hoping the little spell you used on Lira might open a new window for me, if you’ll excuse the pun.”

“A window for what?” Ceony asked, sharpness leaking into her voice. “You can’t bond to blood, and I certainly won’t help you! Do you even care about Lira, or is power your only motivation?”

Grath scowled and stepped close enough to the mirror that his breath fogged the glass. “The first thing I’ll do with you when this is over is rip those flapping lips off your face, Folder. Lira and I had plans. We were going to get away from you and your self-righteous system, but you couldn’t let that happen, could you? I’m going to break whatever curse you put on her, and I’m going to make you my first test rat once blood is my domain.”

Test rat? Ceony stepped back from the mirror, standing just off-center of the room. “You’re serious,” she breathed, but she didn’t refer to the threats. Grath really did intend to break his bond to glass. But such a thing was impossible! Once a person formed a bond with a material, it couldn’t be undone. The oath said as much!

“Tell me what you did to her!” Grath shouted, his thick fingers clutching the edge of the mirror. “Tell me what strange magic you have, this spell that bridges materials!”

“Even if I could free Lira, I’d let you flay me before I let the secret slip!” she shouted.

A creaking sound to her right startled Ceony. When she glanced to the side, she spied Emery’s silhouette in the doorway, just out of sight of the mirror.

Grath didn’t seem to notice. “I can make you break that promise,” he said.

I have to keep him talking, Ceony thought, but before she could ask her next question, her mirror began to ripple, as though the glass was morphing into water.

Water . . . people could pass through water.

“Ceony!” Emery shouted. He threw open the door and pulled a Folded piece of paper from his long coat, but Ceony moved faster. She grabbed the chair by the makeup stand and flung it into the mirror, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. The glass rained over the floor, unmoving and solid. The pieces reflected only the ceiling and Ceony’s huffing shoulders.

Grath had vanished.

Emery lowered his spell, palmed it. “A blind box, quickly.”

Ceony pushed past him and into the living room. She ran to the desk, pulling four sheets of paper from its drawer. She Folded them, her flying fingers barely registering the tingling of the material. Emery had taught her the Blind Box spell two months after her arrival—a simple box that shut out everything beyond its paper walls, including light. Ceony had thought it fairly useless at the time, but it would prove efficient in nullifying Grath’s spell if he still held any control over the mirror’s shards.

She made four of them and hurried back to the vanity room.

Emery stood rigid, watching the shards. Ceony dropped down beside him and began to pick them up and shove them into the boxes. Emery crouched and helped her. One of the shards left a thin cut across her thumb, but she ignored it. Once they’d collected all the pieces, they shut the boxes’ lids and left them sitting on the carpet.

“Seven years,” Ceony said, catching her breath. “That’s seven years’ bad luck, you know.”

Emery sniffed. “I think Lady Luck will grant you a pardon in this case.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he said. He coughed softly and said, “Grath Cobalt . . . a Gaffer. A few things make sense now. Strange. Hughes will want to know.” His voice sounded hoarse.

“Will he find us?” Ceony asked, staring at the boxes. Her fingers danced around their corners, checking her Folds for accuracy.

“No,” Emery said, and he coughed. “He shouldn’t know where we are, physically, if I understand mirror-hopping correctly. At least, I hope that’s the case.”

Ceony looked directly at the paper magician, finally noticing the redness of his eyes and puffiness around his jaw. He sniffed again, and barely any air made it through his sinuses.

“Goodness, Emery!” she exclaimed, standing. “What happened to you?”

Emery cleared his throat, but the action resulted in a fit of low coughs. Once he recovered, he grumbled, “Mrs. Hughes is a great lover of cats; unfortunately, this was unclear to me until I had already been exposed.”