The Glass Magician (The Paper Magician Trilogy #2)(8)
George smacked his palm against his forehead, but the group followed Miss Johnston in silence back through the warehouse, which of course bore yellow tourist lines clear to the rusted, windowless door.
Ceony grabbed Delilah’s wrist and pulled her toward the back of the group. “Did you hear what he said?” she whispered.
Delilah shook her head, tickling Ceony’s nose with her curls. “I didn’t. You?”
“Something suspicious. I mean, he said ‘suspicious.’ And something about ‘just now.’ What could go wrong in a paper mill that would cause them to stop the tour? Bad pulp?”
Delilah shrugged. “Big businesses always have certain protocols for things like tour groups and emergency preparation. My pa works for Stanton Automobile, and there are all sorts of weird rules about what to do when something goes wrong. It usually just results in a lot of overtime.”
Ceony cringed at the idea of working overtime in a paper mill, but said nothing more on the subject.
Miss Johnston left the group outside on a stretch of trampled grass not far from the river and disappeared back through the door. Clemson tested the handle but found it locked.
“Curious,” he said. It was the first word Ceony had heard him speak. The lanky man released the handle and said nothing more.
Letting out a sigh, Ceony took in her surroundings. She could hear the river churning at the back of the mill, and a gravel road wound around the side of the building to its front. A little farther out grew clusters of aspen trees and uncut crabgrass; she headed toward them with Delilah, the afternoon sun peeking out from behind wispy clouds. The others followed at a slow pace, George grumbling as he went.
“I think we should do lunch sometime soon, Ceony,” Delilah said with a grin. She handled inconvenience so well. Ceony envied that about her.
“I agree,” Ceony said, “but it’s on your schedule. Em—Magician Thane is fairly lenient about my time off.”
“Oh, I think tomorrow would suit just right,” Delilah said, clapping her hands together. “Magician Aviosky has a full day booked at the school, what with the new year starting soon, so I’ll only have personal study to complete. Where shall we go?”
Ceony paused under a tree some fifty feet from the paper mill and leaned against its white, scarred trunk. “Do you like fish? St. Alban’s Salmon Bistro at Parliament Square has really good bisque. I’ve tried to copy it before, but I can never get it right.”
“Oh, I love St. Alban’s,” Delilah said with a wave of her hand. “Their bread is heavenly. Tomorrow at noon, then? I can meet you outside the statue of—”
Delilah’s lips kept moving, but a loud boom! from behind her completely enveloped her words. Ceony felt the explosion through the ground, up her legs, and in her very heart. The leaves overhead rattled, and two starlings took to the sky.
Then Ceony saw the fire.
Flames soared upward from the first and second buildings of the paper mill like an erupting volcano, spitting chunks of debris and ash higher than the smokestacks’ steam. They engulfed half the building; the heat hit in a wall-like wave a moment later, pulling beads of sweat from her skin.
“Run!” she shouted, barely able to hear her own voice. She grabbed Delilah and pulled her in the opposite direction of the mill. Clemson was nowhere in sight, but George and Dover had already taken off, and she raced after them. A piece of debris slammed into a tree not ten feet to her left, splitting it in two.
Something whistled, and a second, smaller explosion sang through the air. Ceony turned just in time to see a massive chunk of factory wall hurtling toward her.
Clemson appeared out of nowhere and ran toward it, rubbing his hands together. Ceony screamed, but the man shouted “Deflect!” and shot a giant fireball into the debris, knocking it away. Instead of smashing into Ceony, it soared over the trees and landed in the river with a giant splash.
Delilah started to cry.
“Thank you!” Ceony shouted, but Clemson just shoved them forward, dropping a spent match in the process. Ceony didn’t need any reminder of the danger they were in. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, which turned out to be much faster than what Delilah could manage. Ceony refused to let go of the Gaffer apprentice’s hand, and half-dragged her over a small hill toward the street the shuttle had used to get to the factory. Dover and George had already reached it by the time they got there, and were standing with a small collection of awestruck bystanders. When Ceony finally stopped, chest heaving with each breath, Delilah buried herself into Ceony’s collar and continued to sob. Clemson approached cautiously, but a shake of Ceony’s head suggested he stay away, and he did. Ceony patted Delilah’s back in a meager attempt to console her and stared at the pillar of dark-gray smoke churning up from the paper mill. What had happened? What had gone wrong?
She tensed as another thought occurred to her: Of all the employees Miss Johnston had pointed out to them on the tour, how many had escaped in time?
The air soured with the smell of ashes and soot. More and more people collected on the street to ogle the catastrophe until the police arrived and started pushing everyone back. The first group of policemen ran straight up to the mill; the second worked on crowd control.
Her skin prickled again with that feeling of being watched. She searched the crowd as best she could with Delilah clinging to her, but so many people surrounded them . . .