Page 15 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
Unlike the other mirrors of New Swansea, these ones decayed. Their metal rusted and crumbled at the seams. Moss grew along the rock walls and snaked up through the cracks like the tentacles of an octopus. They were so different from other mirrors that they were housed in an equally sinister part of the city, where no one dared enter. They were the entrance to the Ruins, a place covered in twisted shadows that resisted the light from the sun.
A place reserved only for ghosts.
If someone wanted to enter the Ruins—which no one would—they would have to walk through Trapped Souls Row.
Quinn looked away from the tormented place.
She didn’t want to feel for these people because if she let it in, a flood of all her unfelt emotions would be set free. And that couldn’t happen.Ever.It was far better to be in control—far better to avoid emotions and focus on something else.
Quinn tried to do this by sewing Giselle’s skirt, but she just couldn’t drown them out.
“Quinny, your necklace is . . . glowing.” Constance pointed, and in her umber eyes, a glowing red light reflected.
Quinn lowered her chin and took in her necklace. Inside the iron casing, the shard of glass liquified into a flaring crimson metal that swirled to a legato rhythm. It was a ballerina jumping and dancing.
Shock rattled through her core. It was the second time the necklace had come alive. But it shouldn’t happen. It was a shard of a dead mirror, and Quinn only kept it because it reminded her of her parents—of the life they would never have together.
What was going on? She rubbed her temples and glanced up at the Ruins and trapped souls. There was something about this place or these souls that spoke to the necklace. Something that revived it.
Like it had been during the rite.
She’d passed Trapped Soul Row hundreds of times, so why come to life now?
Was it because of the rite? Had something changed the necklace when they were inside Nightshade’s realm?
Lost in her thoughts, Quinn didn’t notice when Jane reached out and touched the necklace until it was too late. The other redhead jumped back and nearly fell out of the car and would have if Constance hadn’t grabbed her dress, catching her.
“It burnt me,” Jane breathed and stared at a coined-sized burn in the center of her palm.
Jane’s expression sparked with recognition, and it was almost like her thoughts twirled in her eyes like a scene playing out on a stage. Quinn had no idea what her friend was thinking, but it was clear that the necklace coming to life meant something. And it became even more clear when Jane whispered, “So it’s true.”
“What’s true?” Quinn asked, protectively pulling away from her friend.
Jane’s hand fell into her lap. “What?” she asked as if coming out of a daze.
“You said it’s true while staring at my necklace.” Quinngripped the jewelry in between her fingers, the lattice cage digging into her flesh.
Jane bit her lip, and instead of answering the question, she said, “Did you get the mirror shard when your parents died?”
A strike of lightning surged through Quinn’s core. There was no way anyone should’ve known that. She was the only person to survive the murders—murders that included a mirror.
Her fingers tightened further around the necklace as she contemplated telling the truth. “I—” Quinn started, realizing she’d been silent too long. She blew out a breath and finally chose to share this piece of her soul with someone else. “Yes,” Quinn breathed.
“But that’s not possible. When a mirror breaks, the pieces shatter and dissolve into nothing, leaving a mirror stain in its place.” Jevon rubbed his hand and stared at her like he was trying to solve an impossible math equation.
Quinn sucked in a breath and swallowed down her emotions—deep down, never to see the light of day. She wouldn’t allow what she was about to say to affect her. “When I was four years old, my parents were murdered in front of a mirror. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. But when they died, the murderer shattered the mirror, and I grasped a sliver and hid. By the time I came out of my hiding spot, the shattered glass had dissolved. All except the shard in my hand. I don’t know why it stayed. I barely know anything about that night at all. My memory is split into pieces. I don’t really even remember my family or anything that happened before that moment.”
Constance and Jevon’s eyes met, and Quinn couldn’t quite decipher what emotion was shared between them—if it was horror, curiosity, or empathy.
“I think they were guarding a Blood Mirror,” Jane whispered to her lap, wringing her hands. “Which means it’s a piece. Maybe it could find the thir—” she cut herself off, and her eyes darted over her shoulder. She stiffened, suddenly noticing her other friends hanging off her every word.
“Jane, are you okay?” Giselle asked, sliding her book into her corset.
“Yes, sorry.” Jane flashed a false smile, squeezing Quinn’s hand. “It’s nothing. I was just surprised by the necklace moving. That’s all.”
Silence cascaded over them like a tidal wave, and the five of them sat huddled yet separately.
Quinn’s thoughts turned back to her parents as she stared at the necklace.
