Page 57 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
Emrys followed her gaze to the fingerprint samples. “You have a fingerprint from the murderer?”
“Yes.”
He gave a slight nod. “Then you shall inspect my fingers, and you will know that I only mean to help.”
She prepared the ink and paper for his samples. Reaching out, she clasped his hand, and it tremored. “You have magic.”
“So it would seem.” His words were hurt and clipped.
Quinn dipped his fingers in ink and methodically rolled them on the paper. Her heart danced in her chest, speeding up like bourrée steps. “So, you are Mirror-Blessed?” she asked, rolling his final finger on the paper.
“Or am I something else? That is the question, isn’t it?” His eyes dripped with unreadable thoughts like an ocean of mystery.
Something else, like . . . a vampire?
Quinn was nearly convinced vampires were alive and well. Emrys had implied it before, and the markings on all the victims were too much of a coincidence. Plus, what would be strong enough and fast enough to kill the reporter before they arrived?
A vampire.
She shuddered as she placed the paper down next to the other samples. Quickly, she checked, cross-checked, and checked again.
The vein in her neck pulsed to the rhythm of a war drum. “Whatever you are, at the very least, you are not Jane’s murderer.”
Twenty
The investigation was at a complete and utter dead end. Quinn needed to learn about the painting tattoos and the Blood Mirrors. She had to find answers, and it was clear that Emrys couldn’t provide them.
Quinn’s only true option left was to face another mirror or wait to be murdered. But she absolutely was not going to challenge Beautiful Decay again. So, instead, she would go to the Mirror of Midnight.
Quinn stood in front of the Mirrors of: Midnight, Beautiful Decay, Winter, and Skulls, trying to gather enough courage to go into another mirror. Her eyes focused on Midnight. A purple galaxy shimmered underneath the glass, and lapis blue danced like the corps de ballet in Starlight Falls. The frame was made of swirling shadows and shooting stars. Quinn’s heart stormed in her chest, and she clutched her necklace for support.
But she had to do this. Her life depended upon these answers.
She stepped toward the mirror and without another thought, Quinn plunged inside. Its texture was like a million granules of sand that scratched at her skin and eyes. Ice crawled like spider veins up her arms and neck and encased her body with thefreezing cold. Her breaths grew hollow and strained. There was no oxygen here.
Stumbling out of the barrier, Quinn fell to her knees and landed on a sea of glitter. No . . . it wasn’t glitter. It was starlight. Purple and blue clouds circled her. She tried to touch one, but her fingers went straight through it.
From the dancing clouds, stepped a petite girl with cotton-candy pink hair. She looked to be slightly younger than Quinn. “Hello, Quinnevere Ashelle, daughter of Callan and Brielle and seeker of truth.” The girl had eyes like blood diamonds and the voice of a seven-year-old child. Airy yet cheerful. “Daughter of the Blood Glass, Daughter of the Council, Daughter of Secrets, Queen of Mirrors, what is it that you require of me?”
Quinn shuddered, and confusion was a claw biting into her back. None of those titles made any sense to her. But then she remembered she was in the Mirror of Midnight, notorious for only speaking in childlike riddles.
“I—” Quinn started but was distracted by her necklace.
It buzzed, just like inside Beautiful Decay, but this time, it liquefied, spun on pointe like a ballerina out of its cage, and grew into a life-sized humanoid creature. The red metal melted off like dripping wax, revealing a raven-haired lady in her mid-twenties.
The woman’s hazel eyes, far greener than brown, stood out with her dark hair and pale features. She wore an indigo blue gown that dropped from her shoulders, loose and elegant, and reminiscent of ancient times. It was simple, but in its simplicity, it almost seemed more commanding—like the woman’s power radiated through the dress rather than overwhelming her.
“Hello, Quinnevere,” the raven-haired woman said with a gentle smile.
Quinn gasped. All 206 bones in Quinn’s body shuddered and froze. Her heart hammered in her ears—at the base of her skull—and each beat sent a different emotion pouring through her body.
The necklace spoke.
It actually spoke to her. Well,shespoke. And the necklace wasa beautiful woman. Quinn shouldn’t have been surprised because she knew she was carrying a Mirror Portal around her neck after visiting Nightshade, but it was still unreal to confirm it as fact.
The necklace Quinn had worn around her neck for nineteen years SPOKE.
Quinn didn’t know if she felt faint, nauseous, or curious. It was all a little too much. Her knees buckled, and she started to fall, but the woman swooped in and caught her. Her grip was gentle and warm.
