The Glass Magician

He went through the front door after the others and made sure to lock it. Saraj wouldn’t leave this building alive, save for in chains. He hated to think of what would happen if England lost yet another Folder. He really should start charging for these things.

Saraj hadn’t gone far; he stood at the opposite end of a large, open room with a high ceiling and stained windows, a few of them chipped or broken. A handful of bent gears and shredded cables littered the floor, left behind when the factory had been gutted. Old barrels lined the walls alongside empty crates. Other than the door behind Emery, there were two exits in the room, both near Saraj. One led into a long hallway that ended in a set of stairs; the other opened into another, smaller room with two doors. Juliet had soldered shut the right-hand door that led outside. The second door opened onto a hallway leading to storage and supply rooms.

If Saraj chose the first door, the left door, he would be ultimately cornering himself. If he chose the right . . . Emery prayed he would choose the right.

But he didn’t run. He stood in a wide-legged stance, rolling a vial of blood back and forth in his already crimson-stained hand. His other hand hovered near a golden pistol at his hip.

Juliet moved first, waving her hand and shouting, “Attract!”

The chain around Emery’s torso shifted as though drawn to Juliet, but the spell hadn’t been aimed at him. Saraj’s pistol leapt from its holster as though magnetized—it had been magnetized—and flew from his reach before he could snatch it back, sailing between the three policemen who’d entered the room with Juliet and snapping into place on a metallic belt around the Smelter’s hips. Another clamor of metal on metal drew Emery’s eyes to a small knife that had also made the journey to her belt. Emery hadn’t even seen the blade leave Saraj’s person.

Unfortunately, the vials of blood—the Excisioner’s strongest ammo—were made of glass.

Juliet pulled her own gun: a sleek revolver with an ivory handle that would make Ceony croon with jealousy. “All our firearms are enchanted, Prendi,” she said, louder than necessary. Her voice carried authority. “They won’t miss their targets. Surrender now.”

Saraj only smiled. Emery didn’t see him uncork the vial, but he flung out his hand, using the same aerial push Lira had favored in combat.

Juliet’s chain tightened around her torso. A free strand of hair from her bun fluttered as though caught in the wind, but the rest of her remained unscathed.

“How clever,” Saraj said, his words lightly accented. “I had hoped you’d offer a challenge.”

“Fire!” Juliet shouted.

Saraj darted to the right, but not toward the exit. Gunfire thundered through the large room. Splashes of blood flew from Saraj’s vials, leaving small puddles on the floor that rose up like rooted ghosts. The bullets changed course for them, missing Saraj.

He used his own blood, then. The enchanted bullets couldn’t detect the difference. Clever.

Saraj rounded the room as policemen fired, heading toward Emery—dangerously close to the window through which he had entered. Emery darted forward to meet him, pulling a flash star from his coat—paper Folded to look like the head of an intricate pinwheel. He tossed it forward and shouted, “Flash!”

Bright, white light pulsed out of the star’s center, so blinding that even Emery, its caster, saw dark spots before his eyes. Saraj stumbled, blinking rapidly.

He regained his balance quickly and lunged toward Emery, making Emery’s shield chain clamp around his chest. Then Saraj moved again, but this time he rolled to the side and shoved two of the barrels lining the room, one with each hand. The first collided with Juliet. The second slammed into Emery like an automobile at full speed.

The impact knocked the air from his lungs and sent sharp pain coursing through his ribs. Emery’s feet left the floor and he sailed backward until he collided with the factory wall, shoulder first.

He heard a snap and hit the floor. The pain exploded soon after.

His lungs found air and he gasped as hot agony coursed through his collar, up the right side of his neck, and down his right arm, pulsing and unrelenting, twisting like a drill. He rolled onto his left shoulder to relieve some of the pressure. His collarbone jutted at a sad angle, but it hadn’t broken the skin. A relief—leaving a mess of his blood for Saraj was as good as letting the Excisioner touch his skin.

He shook his head and pushed himself upright with his left arm, grinding his teeth as the break shifted. Juliet picked herself up off the floor, too. The policemen had been busy while they were incapacitated, thankfully. Two of them had outmaneuvered Saraj’s blood clones and landed their bullets, and blood flowed steadily from Saraj’s right hip and right pectoral. The Excisioner had covered the latter wound with one hand and was quietly chanting. When he dropped his arm, the hole had vanished. A Healing spell, and well timed.