Amelia let out a long, shuddering breath. Ever since discovering she was cursed by that damned Train to Paradise, her heart had been stuck in her throat. While the threat was far from resolved, Lees methodical breakdown of the situation made her feel-instinctively-that he was right. At long last, there was a glimmer of hope that she might break this wretched curse.
Yet while Amelia allowed herself to relax, Lee remained on high alert. Supernatural phenomena were notoriously hazardous, even by the standards of occultism, and his current level of mastery gave him no right to be careless. Checking the watch on his wrist, he gauged the time before fishing an item out of his pocket: a plastic water gun.
The absurd spectacle left Amelia utterly bewildered. Lee, however, showed no signs of stopping. Swiveling the toy, he pointed the barrel straight at her and pulled the trigger. Instinctively, Amelia raised both hands to shield her face. «Lee, what on earth are you doing?»
A faint mist of sickly green liquid spritzed from the nozzle. The spray was so fine, and spread across her entire body so thinly, that it left no visible trace on her clothes. On her exposed skin-her face and palms-it registered as nothing more than a faint dampness. Lee frowned, displeased by her reaction. «Amelia, why are you flinching? This is a potion I brewed myself. Sprayed over you, it acts as a magical medium, allowing me to construct a spellbound firewall to protect you from the trains influence!»
Realizing her knee-jerk reaction had been silly, Amelia offered a sheepish laugh. «Ah… sorry, Lee. Should you spray me again?»
Lee sighed. «Never mind. Its only meant to serve as a conduit anyway, and this amount is more than enough for the spell. Wasting it would be a shame-it doesn't last long once applied. By my estimates, the Train to Paradise will pass through here in about ten minutes. I need to make preparations.» Reaching into his pocket once more, Lee pulled out a small paper figurine. Rough around the edges, its human silhouette looked as if it had been crudely cut out with scissors-which was precisely how Lee had made it from a plain sheet of paper.
Lee rolled down the car window, laid the paper figure flat across his palm, took a deep breath, and blew hard. The paper figure lifted off his hand and drifted out the window. Amelias eyes widened in sheer disbelief. Everything Lee had done up to this point had stayed somewhat within the bounds of reason, but the moment that piece of paper left his hand, reality spun entirely out of control. According to the laws of physics, a flimsy piece of paper leaving a palm had to fall to the ground. The only variables were the path it took-whether a stray draft caught it, or if it snagged on water, twigs, or debris before landing.
Yet Lees little paper figure blatantly defied the laws of physics. The moment it caught the breeze, it expanded like a balloon forced full of air, swelling from a flat sheet into a three-dimensional human frame. In seconds, the palm-sized scrap transformed into a towering, six-foot-two Paper Puppet that stood firmly on the ground. Featureless and naked, its pale yellow form perfectly mirrored human proportions. Up close, its surface bore no resemblance to human skin, looking instead like finely grained wood. Being a construct, it possessed no actual face, only the vague outline of one.
Amelia felt profoundly grateful for her own strong heart. What Lee had just done shattered her worldview to splinters. If this wasn't an illusion, what purpose did physics even serve? How could a plain scrap of paper morph into a solid, six-foot-two puppet in under a minute? Where had the matter filling its body come from? And if it contained no actual matter-if it had simply blown up like a balloon-how was it standing so firmly on the ground? A stiff breeze was blowing outside; with the window down, Amelia could feel the cold draft rushing into the car. In an open area like this, the wind was far from weak. According to physics, something with the mass of a tiny paper cutout should have been swept away instantly. Confronted with such an impossible, supernatural spectacle, Amelia could only whisper to herself that occult phenomena truly defied scientific explanation. «Lee… is this your magic?»
Lee remained utterly unfazed. «It's just a Paper Puppet, nothing to get excited about.» And he genuinely meant it. To him, it was hardly an impressive feat-just a tired cliché from classical ghost stories and ancient folklore. Cut paper into men, cut paper into horses; paper figures and paper steeds, dark of face and grim of form, coming with the wind and leaving in its wake. It was the sort of low-tier trick used by minor practitioners who knew a smattering of spells to intimidate mortals-utterly lacking in prestige. A quick look at classics like Journey to the West or Investiture of the Gods proved the point: did a single true immortal ever resort to such cheap tricks? Those with large followings sent their subordinates to handle business, while those without summoned divine strength through high magic. No one with an ounce of self-respect would humiliate themselves with such a low-class spell!
Amelia, however, was green with envy. «Lee, you might think it's ordinary, but to me, it's nothing short of a miracle!»
Lee merely shrugged, ignoring her awe. «Be that as it may, we have work to do. Get the equipment out.»
Amelia retrieved a specialized tool kit from the back seat. The gear belonged to the TV station, and any damage meant paying out of her own pocket. Opening the case revealed a portable data-processing system, flanked by a smaller box holding sixteen matching collection units-essentially wireless covert surveillance equipment. Though American journalists weren't quite as wild as their British counterparts, they were still recklessly bold; trespassing and break-ins were light work for them. The station maintained a tacit approval of such antics, going so far as to provide specialized tools-including this very set of hidden cameras.
One by one, Amelia handed the wireless cameras over to Lee. Each device was barely larger than a shirt button. Thanks to advances in digital processing and micro-machining, cameras of this size could stream digital video and audio back to the portable hub in real time. Their sole drawback was limited range, topping out at less than a kilometer under ideal conditions.
Lee took the cameras and began mounting them onto the Paper Puppet. Though the puppets surface appeared as rigid and seamless as hardwood, its texture yielded like water the moment Lee pressed a camera against it, wrapping around his hand with fluid softness. As soon as he pulled his hand back, the surface solidified into firm wood once more, locking the camera securely in place. To capture as many angles as possible, Lee mounted a generous number of units: eyes, ears, shoulders, hands, elbows, knees, chest, back, the top of its head, and the base of its skull-consuming all sixteen cameras.
«Amelia,» Lee called out, «check if the feeds are working.»
Amelia operated the processing system. After a few minutes, she gave him a firm nod. «All clear, Lee. Every single one is live.»
Lee rolled up the car window and commanded the Paper Puppet to walk over to the platform of the abandoned train station, where it stood frozen like a wooden post. Simple in structure and fragile by nature, the puppet lacked all autonomy; without Lees active control, it wouldn't so much as flinch if someone carved it up with a knife. Even an ordinary person, using the right approach, could easily destroy it. Given enough nerve and brute force, a person would have more than a sixty-percent chance of beating it in a one-on-one fight. How much could one really expect from a construct made of paper? Indeed, had Lee not developed spatial threads, he wouldn't even have been able to pilot the Paper Puppet from a distance. But under the circumstances-knowing full well that the Train to Paradise was a fatal trap-this cheap construct made the perfect disposable scout.
Lees timing proved remarkably precise. The Paper Puppet had waited on the platform for less than five minutes when an antique train came hurtling down the long-abandoned tracks. Drawn by a steam engine straight out of an old period film, it moved at an astonishing speed. One moment it was a speck in the distance; a few breaths later, it was screeching into the deserted station.
Amelia instinctively clamped her hands over her mouth. Anyone with a shred of sanity could tell there was something deeply wrong with this train. First, the tracks and station had been abandoned for years-how could a high-speed train suddenly materialize out of nowhere in the dead of night? Second, while its build was ancient, a closer look revealed it to be unnaturally pristine. Even from a distance, a strange, fluorescent glow enveloped the entire engine and its cars, looking like a movie special effect. Trains didn't glow like lightbulbs. Third, and most disturbing, was the sound surrounding it. Whether speeding along or idling at the station, an eerie noise washed over the train-not the blast of a whistle or the mechanical churn of an engine, but a chaotic, piercing howl that swirled around it like wind. It sounded like an ocean of souls weeping in agony, screaming for help one second and spitting venomous curses the next. No sane human could endure such a horrific chorus.
Lee patted Amelias shoulder reassuringly. «Don't panic. We're far enough away, and with me here, it can't harm you. Keep an eye on the monitors and get ready-I'm sending the Paper Puppet aboard.»