Page 14 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
The girls were rivals in nearly every way, yet somehow, they still liked each other—or they pretended to like each other in Quinn’s presence. It made for some interesting moments.
“And have you read anything interesting in your stolen book?” Constance asked.
“It’s mostlyborrowed . . .” Giselle paused her reading to shoot Constance a look so icy it could sink the RMSColossal.
Quinn laughed and then said sarcastically, “Borrowed like all the other library books you will eventually give back?”
“Precisely.”
“I don’t get you at all,” Constance said. “You’re a daughter of a Countess—or so you say—and you don’t need tostealthem. You could buy them.”
Giselle was a lady and extremely rich, but she refused to tell her parents’ last names. She even took on a fake last name to hide their identities because she was so ashamed of them. After her father was sentenced to prison for murdering someone, she never talked about him again. And she hated her mother for unknown reasons.
“I barely do anything because Ineedto. Besides, who doesn’tkeeplibrary books?” Giselle’s nose flared. “Anyway, do you want to hear about my book or not?”
“Eh, not particularly, no.” Constance wiggled an eyebrow.
“Well then, I shall definitely tell you now.” Giselle’s ruby lips rose into a wicked smile. “I was reading a story about the Bloody Countess . . .”
“Oh, fucking mirrors,” Constance cursed under her breath.
“Now, you’ve started it,” Jevon added in.
“A vampire who used to prey on men.” Giselle ignored them and continued, “She bled them dry and hung them from gentleman’s clubs in horrendous positions. She loved to use stakes. Many, many stakes.”
A shiver crawled down Quinn’s spine at the words, and she absentmindedly stroked a finger along her forearm, tracing the bleeding painting that was inked into her skin. Quinn performed many autopsies, but some things were even gruesome enough to churn her stomach. “Well, that’s a bit of light reading.”
“Did it give a reason for the murders?” Constance asked, a trill of excitement pouring from her tongue.
“Is there ever a good reason for murder?” Jane wrinkled her nose.
Constance shrugged and clicked her heels, flashing a naughty grin. “I could think of a couple.”
Jevon let out a low laugh.
“Like wha—” Giselle’s voice trailed off as ghostly screams pierced through the night fog.
The cable car approached Trapped Souls Row.
Quinn’s stomach dropped. They represented the worst future imaginable. The worst mirror costs.
And it only served to remind Quinn of her deal and the future she had awaiting her if it soured. She wouldn’t be turned into a mirror, but there were other terrible consequences.
Fuck.
This car needed to hurry because Quinn had a prince to seduce.Fuck, fuck, fuck.
She was far outmatched because not only was Quinn a virgin—dance and dead bodies took up too much of her time to lure and fuck men—but she had also never been kissed. At twenty-three. Again, not for any other reason than being far too busy.
But now, Quinn was beginning to believe she might be missing something. She’d pleasured herself, and she was adequateat it. But all her friends had many partners and experiences she never had.
Fuck, Giselle had nearly fucked an entire baseball team at this point, sleeping with a new man every week. It was unclear if she was a courtesan or just simply bored. Either could be equally true, and she had no shame for any of it—nor should she. But sex wasn’t something the girls discussed.
Quinn wished she could be that free with passion, but that wasn’t how she was made. Quinn wasn’t free with anything. She was an uptight nightmare.
A scream cut through the night, and Quinn jumped.
One of the mirrors of Trapped Souls Row let out a banshee call and pulled Quinn back into the moment, her eyes falling on the haunted things. Some were screaming, some were frozen in slumber, and others waved sadistically, their eyes tracing Quinn like chalk lining a crime scene. Some even banged on the glass and begged to be set free.
