The Glass Magician (The Paper Magician Trilogy #2)(41)

Grath held Ceony a few inches above his crown. He squeezed her throat, and Ceony choked for air. He took a second to catch his breath before he said, “Do you know how an Excisioner bonds, Ceony?”

But Ceony couldn’t answer. Grath’s fingertips pressed into her windpipe. Her face grew hot and her cheek throbbed, drumming into her skull.

“I can’t do it yet,” he said, “but I can demonstrate well enough.”

He squeezed harder. Ceony’s feet flailed.

The loud clap of a gunshot rang through the barn, and Ceony fell.

She hit the ground on her knees and gasped, hot air filling her lungs. Grath grunted and staggered back, his huge hands flying to his ribs. Blood poured down the side of his shirt—a graze, but it bled a steady stream.

Ceony gaped at Delilah, who stood beside one of the empty stalls, Ceony’s pistol gripped in her hands.

“Run!” Delilah cried, and Ceony saw that one of her friend’s feet was still inside a rippling mirror. She had found the barn, and just in time.

Ceony jumped to her feet and slammed all her weight into Grath, elbowing his wounded side. The Gaffer staggered back, and Ceony bolted for Delilah.

Delilah slid back through the mirror until only one hand remained above the surface.

“Transport!” Grath shouted from behind her. All the mirrors began again to ripple at once. Grath appeared at the mirror closest to Delilah, still gripping his side, red-faced, breathing hard.

He charged for Ceony.

She wasn’t going to make it.

“Run, Delilah!” she cried, darting away from both her friend and Grath.

The mad Gaffer reached for her.

Digging her heel into the ground, Ceony shifted direction, receiving a painful pop from her ankle in the process.

She dived through another mirror.





CHAPTER 14



CEONY EXPECTED TO REEMERGE somewhere else in the barn, somewhere that would give her a good shot for the door, but when she tripped out of the mirror frame on the other side, she stumbled into near darkness, the smells of wood and rot assailing her.

This wasn’t the barn, but it didn’t matter.

Pushing herself up, Ceony grabbed the frame of the rippling mirror and threw it down with all her might, breaking it into several pieces. The rippling ceased, but Ceony jumped on the larger pieces anyway, splitting them beneath the heels of her shoes.

Wincing, she staggered backward, favoring her right leg. Her left ankle throbbed fiercely, almost as badly as her cheekbone did.

She breathed heavy breaths that echoed through the dark emptiness around her and wheezed like October wind. Ceony coughed, then coughed again, her hand flying to her sore throat. A third cough almost made her retch, but her desperation for air kept the contents of her stomach down. She swallowed twice, still watching the mirror. She had no paper for a blind box. She had nothing at all, not even her pistol. Just an empty bag.

“Oh, Delilah,” she whispered, hoarse. Surely her friend had gotten away in time.

Another swallow, and Ceony finally lifted her eyes, taking in the shadows around her. The stale air felt cool against her sweating skin. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, and she saw old, taupe-colored walls made of thin wooden boards, a flat ceiling, a wooden floor strewn with mouse droppings. A storage shed of sorts, perhaps. An empty one.

She turned around. Not empty.

Her quick-beating heart lodged into the base of her raw throat at the sight of Lira, still frozen, crouching with her hands pressed to her face, still locked into the agony into which Ceony had frozen her on the shores of Foulness Island. She looked like a phantom in the shadows of the shed. Ethereal, ghostly. Ceony shivered.

She circumvented Lira, giving her a wide berth, and stepped toward the door, limping on her left side. The floorboards creaked under her weight, setting off the skittering of tiny, clawed feet in the walls, or perhaps underfoot. Mice.

Ceony tested the doors. Locked, but closer inspection told her they hadn’t been locked from the outside. Someone—Ceony assumed Grath—had installed two locks on the inside. Both required a key. Ceony’s shoulders drooped.

Ceony reeled back toward the remnants of the mirror, which she could barely see this close to the door, where the only light filtered through gaps between the wooden panels of the walls.

Grath. Grath knew where she had gone. He wouldn’t trust her here with Lira. He’d come for her, one way or another. Come for her and kill her.

“Oh God, help me,” she whispered, clutching both hands to her chest. Her body shivered.

She tested the locks, pulling at them, trying to wedge a fingernail into the screws that held them. They didn’t budge.

If only she had paper! A burst spell would blow the decrepit wood apart, surely.

She chewed on her lip, skin growing colder by the minute. She pushed against the doors, the splintering wood creaking with the force. Pushing her fingers through one of the larger gaps, she gripped the board and pushed, pulled, pushed, but she didn’t have the strength to break it.

“Think, think,” she whispered. No paper. What else did she have?

She glanced toward Lira, hobbled toward her.

The woman’s skin felt ice cold, and Ceony half-expected her to reanimate and strike her. The thought of being trapped in a shed with a vengeful Lira made her shudder. Still, she prodded the woman’s belt, her pants, her shirt, searching for anything that might be useful. She found a German train ticket that hadn’t been stamped and some sort of long nail or stake hooked through a belt loop.