The Paper Magician by Charlie N. Holmberg

plate before passing them to Mg. Thane. “And I was wondering what day of the month to expect my stipend.”
    “I shan’t ever partake of my apprentice’s cooking without discussing money, so it seems,” he replied, setting two fish cakes on his own plate. He lifted his fork, again foregoing grace. “I will, however—”
    At least one more word escaped the paper magician’s lips, but a loud explosion in the hallway muffled the sound.
    Ceony dropped the asparagus dish onto the table and whirled around, staring with wide eyes as bits of wood and paper blew in on a breeze from the hallway and drifted into the dining room. The smell of dust and paint mixed with haddock and chives. Mg. Thane leapt to his feet.
    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 wore a black shirt well fitted to her rather ample figure, tight pants with panels over the knees, and 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