Thoughts of Emery dulled her cheer, and she ordered the star, “Cease.”
Langston shifted in his chair.
“Do you have any firearms?” Ceony asked, setting the star down. In secondary school, when she had been upset over something, sometimes her father would take her into the countryside to shoot off his shotgun. The pull and thunder always helped empty her mind.
Langston paled. “I . . . well, I’m not supposed to let you out of the house, you see, and you can’t use one in here.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not good with lessons—not yet anyway—but I have some books you could read. Perhaps you’ll discover something else Magician Thane hasn’t taught you.”
“Perhaps,” Ceony agreed, slouching in her chair. “I’ll browse for myself, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
Pushing back from the table, Ceony collected the dishes, washed them in silence, and picked through books until she found not a textbook, but a copy of Jane Eyre. When Langston wasn’t looking, she snatched a sheet of paper and a pen from the top of his desk and retired to the guestroom upstairs.
Sitting on her bed and leaning against the novel, Ceony wrote on the paper, I need you to trust me and leave the house. Go anywhere, take a vacation. I’ll send you the money. Please hurry.
She reread her words and chewed on her bottom lip. For all she knew, Criminal Affairs had yet to take action, or they had decided to use her family as bait to draw out Grath and Saraj. The idea made her stomach churn.
It wouldn’t take long for the men to follow through on their threats. And for Saraj, all it would take was one touch.
She thought of the buggy driver and shivered. She slinked down to the floor and Folded the paper against it until she had formed a paper crane.
“Breathe,” she said.
The paper bird stretched out its wings and lifted its triangular head to her.
She recited her address to it.
“If no one is home, come straight back here so I know,” she said.
The bird bobbed in her hand. Ceony opened her window just wide enough to slip the bird out. It launched over the street below, its white body shrinking out of sight as it flew over the next row of town houses.
Ceony sighed and closed the window. She hated not knowing.
Leaning on the sill, she peered down to the street lined with Gaffer lamps, tempted to rip a page from Jane Eyre to make a quick telescope. She searched for buggies, searched for a man in an indigo coat, but he did not come.
“I am angry with you.”
Ceony pressed her forehead to the glass. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t know how else to get the message through. I was stupid, I didn’t think. I’m sorry that I endangered Delilah and Magician Hughes and you. Please believe me. If I could go back in time and stop myself, I would. I love you.
She touched her cheek, prodding the healing bruise there. She had deserved that much.
She waited at the window for a long time, watching the people pass by, holding her breath whenever a rented buggy came down the street.
But Emery still didn’t come.
CHAPTER 18
AFTER READING FIFTY PAGES of Jane Eyre, washing her clothes, and showing Langston the proper way to make gravy, Ceony bathed and managed to get into bed at a decent hour. While she didn’t sleep well, she slept better than she had the night before, and found some relief in being able to wear a full-length skirt in the morning.
She searched for her little white bird at the window, but it hadn’t returned. She hoped it had reached its destination safely, but if it had, that meant her family still lingered in the Mill Squats. Or someone did. Her imagination could only fathom who.
Her stomach turned sour, and she massaged it through her blouse. Langston had a telephone, didn’t he? Perhaps she could ring Mg. Aviosky and learn something. Anything. She would fall like a soufflé otherwise.
As Ceony came down the stairs, she heard Langston speaking to someone in his living room. It only took a few steps for her to recognize the voice, and she nearly tripped the rest of the way to the main floor. Her heart once more lodged in her throat.
She hurried into the front room. “Emery . . . I mean, Magician Thane.”
Emery stood by the front door, absent his indigo coat, or any coat for that matter. He wore only a white button-up shirt with long sleeves and a pair of dark-gray slacks. Had he donned a tie, he would have looked ready to work in an office. His face was newly shaved, and he’d cut his hair as well. It didn’t look too different, just shorter and less unkempt.
He stood with his arms loosely folded across his ribs, leaning his weight on his left side. He glanced at her, the fire gone from his eyes.
He was beautiful.
Langston stood with him, fully dressed for the day, a pair of suspenders strapped over his shoulders. Ceony hadn’t thought to try and overhear what they had been discussing, and she chided herself for it. Judging by their expressions, she assumed the conversation had involved her.
Ceony clasped her hands behind her back and fought down a flush. “I . . . didn’t expect to see you so soon.” Only hoped.
“We have a few things to discuss,” Emery said. He didn’t sound angry, just resigned. Resigned to what, Ceony couldn’t tell, for Emery had shuttered his expression again, and she couldn’t read the secrets behind his eyes. Curse whoever had taught him to do that.
Langston said, “Do you have anything to collect?”
“Just my shoes,” Ceony said. Uneasy, she added, “I’ll fetch them.”
She hurried upstairs and retrieved the oxford shoes she had worn yesterday, taking a moment to inhale a few deep breaths and shake out her shoulders. Then she pinched her cheeks and hurried back downstairs.
Emery opened the door. “Thank you again, Langston. Let me know if you need that reference.”
Langston nodded, then moved to tip his hat to Ceony, only to realize he wasn’t wearing one. He settled for a nod and said, “Good day, and take care.”
Ceony thanked him and stepped into the hallway. Emery guided her to the door with a hand on the small of her back. His other hand dug into his pocket and pulled out a Folded crane, its right wing crumpled from its confinement. Ceony’s crane.
“These are not good ideas,” he said.
Her gut sunk. So he had been at the house. “My family?”
“They’re safe. Out of London.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
She took a deep breath. “So you met my parents.”
“I did.”
She wrung a handful of her skirt in her hands. “I really am sorry, Emery.”
“I know,” he said, quiet. “What’s done is done, and in the end it didn’t change much.”
“Didn’t change what, exactly?” she asked, but Emery didn’t answer. He guided her out of the town house and into a buggy that already had its engine running, waiting for them.
Ceony noticed the suitcase sitting behind the seats. “Did you go back home?”
“Briefly.”
After they had situated themselves and the buggy began to move, Emery asked, “Is there anything else I need to know, anything you’ve neglected to tell me?”
Ceony shook her head. “No. Except I lost your glider. That’s how I got to the barn.”
“Hmm,” he replied, nodding. “I hope you closed the roof.”
She hadn’t.
They sat in silence, Ceony wringing her skirt until one of its buttons threatened to pop off. Emery noticed, for he placed a hand over hers to still the destruction.
“I’m not one to dump my autobiography on others,” he said, his gaze on her hands, “but I’ve lost a number of things in my life—important things—and I have no desire to add you to that list, Ceony. Despite what you may think, I do care about you. My stewardship as your mentor aside, I’ve made your well-being my personal priority.”
Ceony’s pulse quickened at those words. Her chest felt hot.
>
Emery rested back against the buggy’s seat. “Your family is safe, as promised. They’ll be looked after until everything is settled.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re going to stay with Magician Aviosky for a while; she’s agreed to the arrangement and will ensure your safety,” he added. “I’m sure Delilah will appreciate the company.”
Ceony had been about to ask after Delilah, but she reprocessed and said, “Why will I be staying with Magician Aviosky? Where will you be?”
She glanced back at the suitcase, then out the window, scanning the shops they passed: Briggs’ Pharmacy, Wolf’s Pencils. This wasn’t the way to Mg. Aviosky’s home. She watched the buildings and street signs glide past them, illuminated by the morning sun, and felt her whole body sink. “You’re leaving. We’re going to the train station.”
“Very astute,” Emery said.
She turned to him in her seat. “Where are you going? What are you going to do?”
He didn’t look at her. “The same thing I’ve done for years.”
“You’re going after Grath,” she hissed, keeping her voice low to prevent the driver from overhearing. “You’re going after him yourself, and after you scolded me about it!”
He turned toward her, his face hovering very close to her own. “This is different, Ceony. I have experience. It’s a decision that was made on behalf of Criminal Affairs. And I’m not going after Grath.”
Ceony’s anger stripped away in jagged pieces, replaced with quivering fear. “Saraj,” she whispered. “You’re going after Saraj.”
He frowned, but nodded.
The buggy pulled up beside the train station just as a clock stand on the sidewalk chimed the eighth hour.
Ceony grabbed Emery’s arm to keep him from leaving. “No, Emery!” she pleaded, blinking back tears. “How do you even know where he is? Where will you go? How long will you be away?”
“I either don’t know or can’t tell you,” he said. He looked . . . guilty.
Ceony opened her mouth to reply, but then addressed the driver instead. “Could you step out of the auto for just a moment, please?”
The driver nodded and stepped outside, looking pleased enough with the arrangement. He pulled a fag and match from his pocket.
“I went through a lot of grief trying to keep you alive,” Ceony said, “and now you’re going to get yourself killed!”
Emery actually smiled. “You have so little faith in me.”
“You’re going after a man who can kill with a swipe of his hand!” Ceony cried. “Please reconsider. I’ll do anything. I’ll never leave the cottage again. You can transfer me, if you want. I’ll give you my stipend. Just please, please don’t go.”
Emery’s expression softened. Lifting his hand, he gently touched the bruise on Ceony’s cheek, a caress that sent chills running down her jaw and neck. “I know more about how to deal with these men than most, Ceony,” he said. “And this way, I can personally guarantee your safety. Please, trust me on this. This time, you can’t change my mind.”
He tucked a stray lock of hair behind Ceony’s ear, then pulled back and retrieved his suitcase from behind the buggy’s seat. Ceony watched him, numb and wordless. Her heart slowed in her chest. Her fingers trembled.
Emery opened the buggy door and stepped out into the sunlight.
He was going to face Saraj Prendi, on his own.
This might be the last time Ceony ever saw him.
“I do care about you.”
She stared out the glassless window as he walked toward the station, suitcase in hand, the sun spinning gold into his raven hair.
Her pulse quickened until her skin throbbed with her heartbeat. Ceony scrambled across the seat and grabbed the door latch, kicking the door open. She jumped outside, blinking the bright morning from her eyes.
Then she shouted, “If you’re going to get yourself killed, you could at least kiss me first!”
Emery paused, as did two other men heading for the train. He turned around and looked to her, the sun pouring around him like a halo.
He walked back to the buggy, and Ceony flushed. Had she upset him? Was he really going to . . . ?
Emery set down his luggage. He put one hand on Ceony’s waist, the other on the unbruised side of her face, and pulled her away from the buggy.
Turning his head carefully to the right, he bent down and kissed her.
His warm lips pressed into hers, and Ceony’s entire body seemed to turn inside out. The sun’s bright rays pierced through her. The city fell away piece by piece.
She closed her eyes and reached for Emery’s neck, kissing him as she’d always wanted to kiss him, parting her lips against his, savoring him, relishing him.
The kiss lasted an eternity, and yet only a few moments. Emery pulled away slowly, leaving Ceony aching for him. She stared up into the beauty of his green eyes, and for a moment she saw everything there, all the pieces of his heart that she remembered so vividly, all the smiles and unspoken words she had earned since meeting him three months earlier.
Emery again touched his lips to her forehead, then stepped back and picked up his suitcase. He didn’t say anything more, and Ceony didn’t speak as he set off for the train. There was nothing left to say. Nothing that hadn’t already been said, in one way or another.
Ceony watched the paper magician leave, her hands clutched over her hard-beating heart. Then he vanished, and Ceony had no choice but to slide back into the buggy and offer direction to Mg. Aviosky’s home, as well as a silent prayer that Emery would return to her unscathed.
CHAPTER 19
CEONY THANKED THE DRIVER when she disembarked at Mg. Aviosky’s home—a tall, gothic structure that rested on its own corner of the street, where the main city eased into a suburb. Charcoal-colored shingles covered both its gabled roof and a turret, behind which rested a narrow chimney free of smoke. It boasted a long porch behind a short, spindled fence, and the decorative columns holding up the second story looked as if they had been stolen from giant sitting-room chairs. Ceony had been to the house thrice before, once for the celebration for her graduation from the Tagis Praff School for the Magically Inclined—before Mg. Aviosky announced that Ceony had been assigned to Folding; once to visit Delilah; and once two days ago, when Mg. Aviosky had pulled her from that awful basement in Belgium.
Yet as Ceony trudged up the steps to the house—somewhat surprised that Mg. Aviosky hadn’t come outside to meet her—her heart and mind lingered at the train station. Emery had likely boarded his train by now. If only she could have followed him and found out its destination. Surely not far, unless Saraj had left town. And if the deadly Excisioner had left town, Ceony wished the Magicians’ Cabinet would leave it at that and let Emery stay.
She rubbed two fingers against her chest as she rang the bell, trying to soothe the pain between her lungs. She imagined a canyon much like the one she had seen in Emery’s heart forming there. If he didn’t make it back to her, she knew it would rip her in two. Criminal Affairs had protected her family, but why couldn’t they also have protected the man she loved?
She licked her lips and allowed herself a moment of gratitude for her good memory. Whatever happened, she would always remember that, down to the very last, minute detail. As she closed her eyes and relished the memory, her knees turned weak. Oh, Emery, please don’t get yourself killed.
No one answered the door, so Ceony knocked. She wondered if she’d be able to retrieve her things from the flat, but surely two Gaffers could manage to collect her belongings for her. And her stay would be temporary. Only a week, surely. Maybe two.
Stepping back from the door, Ceony peered in the direction of the train station, straining to hear one of its whistles over the sounds of the city. She heard nothing but silence and the melody of an unseen songbird in the crabapple tree shading the left half of Mg. Aviosky’s yard.
She sighed and tested the knob. Finding it unlocked, she let herself in.
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sp; The house opened onto stairs leading to the second floor and a hallway leading deeper into the first. Ceony peered into the front room lit with streaks of sunlight that pushed through the closed blinds.
“Magician Aviosky?” Ceony called. “Delilah?”
Odd that they weren’t home. Given the circumstances, Mg. Aviosky should have been awaiting Ceony’s arrival. She was too rigid not to be.
Her stomach suddenly felt drained. She slapped the back of her neck, thinking she felt a bug crawling over her skin, but it was only a wisp of hair.
Slipping off her shoes—Mg. Aviosky had particular rules concerning shoes on her carpet—Ceony pulled herself up the eleven stairs to the second floor, which held the library, the living room, and a long hallway filled with mirrors and bedroom doors. Delilah’s room was the third on the right, but Ceony found it empty, as was the bathroom and what she assumed to be Mg. Aviosky’s room, judging by the size and lack of décor.
She heard shuffling from the third floor. They had to be in the study or the mirror room, then. Perhaps Delilah was in the middle of a lesson.
Ceony wound around to the last set of stairs and climbed them, the boards creaking under her feet. Unlike in Emery’s cottage, the third floor of Mg. Aviosky’s home was the smallest, and it bore only three rooms—the large mirror room where Delilah practiced her craft, Mg. Aviosky’s study, and a tiny room for storage.
“Magician Aviosky?” Ceony called. She reached for the door to the mirror room, but it swung open before she could touch the knob. The man on the other side filled the entire doorway, and his sharp canines gleamed with a light all their own.
“Hello, pet.” Grath grinned.
Ceony sucked in air for a scream and stumbled backward, but Grath’s meaty hand shot out and grabbed her by the valley between her neck and shoulder, digging his nails into the muscle there. He yanked Ceony into the mirror room, which was bathed in sunlight from the uncovered windows. Misty clouds had begun to crawl across the sky.
Ceony’s feet lost the floor as Grath hefted her eye-level with him. Grinning wider, he shifted his weight and threw her onto the floorboards. The wood thudded under her kneecaps, and her joints screamed in retaliation. The skin over her left knee broke, and Ceony finally managed to get air over her vocal cords. The result sounded like a mix between a gasp and a whimper.
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