Page 13 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
Constance shrugged, making her way to the far back of the car, perching on the side of the rail.
The conductor signaled the gripman with one bell, and they began moving. Gears clicked into place, and the car glided up the massive hill on Passion Avenue—the street leading to the Passion District. New Swansea was a city of hills, cliffs, and dense fog. A sparkling azure bay encased the city on three sides, and cable cars and flying gondolas twinkled across the city like soaring diamonds.
Quinn swallowed and tried to focus on the Giselle problem and not her pending kiss or possible mirror consequences.
“The car is moving,” Jevon said as he tapped his fingers on his vest. “And Giselle isn’t here.”
“Just wait. I promise she will miraculously appear.” Jane folded her hands in her lap and leaned back into her seat, playing with the feathers on her dress.
Giselle was always late. It was an affliction at this point. Even with a wristwatch, a pocket watch, and a radio in her room, thegirl never managed to show up on time. Only a miracle caused her to be early.
“How long do you think it will take her to catch up—” Jevon stopped as a shout pierced the air.
“Wait.” It was Giselle, skirts billowing as she ran in the car's wake. “Wait.”
“Stop the car.” Constance glared at the conductor.
“I am sorry, mistress,” the conductor said. “I cannot stop the car until a scheduled stop.”
“I bet two sienna’s that she will try and jump.” Quinn stuck her head out and watched as Giselle stormed after the car.
A mischievous expression painted across Jevon’s ivory cheeks. His worry finally settled. “That would be a silly bet to take.”
“Indeed,” Quinn agreed. She folded her arms and sat back as Giselle sped up and prepared to jump. Quinn might’ve been concerned if she hadn’t seen Giselle pull off far more dangerous stunts on numerous occasions. Giselle performed with the acrobats and tightrope walkers at the Viridian Club just for the thrill of it. She had an addiction to adrenaline.
And just as predicted, with a strange grace, Giselle grand-jetéd and launched into the air before her fingers gripped the handrail. Graceful and skilled as always. But unfortunately, a rip sounded as she pulled herself into the cable car.
“Ugh, nearly perfect execution.” Giselle’s golden-brown eyes swooped over her torn crimson skirt as a bead of sweat dripped down her dark olive cheeks. “And this dress was so beautiful.” She groaned as she dropped into the spot next to Quinn.
“You’re late,” Quinn said, not to shame her friend but to kindly remind her of the importance of timeliness—a constant argument between the girls.
“I might always be late, but at least I always show up.” A warm smile crossed Giselle’s lips. This was her typical response to the endless perfectionism.
Quinn sighed and returned the smile.
The girls were opposites in nearly every way, yet they fundamentally understood each other.
“Giselle, I am impressed with how fast you ran.” Constance’s voice was laced with snake venom mixed with chocolate macarons. Sweet and vicious. But she picked nonchalantly at the embroidered micro-sequins adorning her iridescent silver silk dress. The combination of expressions was striking in their discrepancy. But that was Constance. Hot and cold.
“Just because I’m not a ballerina like you three doesn’t mean I don’t have skills.” Giselle motioned to the other girls. “Or were you implying that I shouldn’t be able to run with all my extra curves? Because I am fat?”
Constance and Giselle’s relationship was confusing. At one moment, they were the best of friends, and at other moments, they were entirely at odds. The tension usually came when Constance was in one of her more hyper moods because, in those moments, they were far too similar. Constance had two moods: energetic or brooding.
“I am pretty sure she meant nothing like that. She was just trying to compliment you,” Jevon said.
“I am an asshole, but I’m not that big of one.” Constance rolled her eyes. “I was merely saying I was impressed because it was fast. I don’t even like running at all.”
Quinn sighed and ignored her friends. They argued like this all the time. Instead, out of a hidden pocket in her dress, she pulled a small first aid kit, which doubled as a sewing kit.
If Quinn could keep her mind and fingers busy, it would distract from the anxiety settling in her bones. So she motioned to Giselle, who slid the torn part of her skirt over.
“I’ll read while you work then.” Giselle pulled out a small book from her cleavage and began to read. If Giselle could manage it, she would bring a library everywhere she went. Knowledge was her power.
“What are you reading?” Quinn asked as she used a tricot stitch to meticulously repair the silk.
“A book on the old vampire gods that Iborrowedfrom the Grand Library,” Giselle said, turning the page, her nose deep inside the tome.
At the wordvampire, everyone reacted. Jane stared vacantly forward with her fingers steepled beneath her chin. Horror dashed across Jevon’s cheeks, and Constance sat up straighter, leaning in but also trying to lace a disinterested expression on her face so as not to show Giselle she actually cared.
