Page 6 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
Jane ran her fingers through her hair, her eyes darting around the room as if she were afraid someone would overhear them. “It’s just that your necklace—” She stopped mid-sentence when she caught Constance’s eye. “Never mind, you wouldn’t know.”
Jane’s red locks bounced as she shot one more hectic glance at Constance before turning on her heel and walking into a crowd of dancers.
“What was that about?” Constance asked, walking up to Quinn, her eyes following their mutual friend as she vanished into the bathroom.
“I have no idea.” Quinn rolled her shoulders, trying to release both tension and confusion. “She asked me about a Blood Mirror.”
“I’ve never heard of it, but it sounds like something to be avoided like the plague.”
“Very true.”
Three
Dread was an aria pulsing through Quinn’s stomach, the music notes stirring inside her and causing nausea to climb up her throat.
Her Mirror-Rite was upon her.
And now, with her four best friends in tow, she disembarked the Cable Car that brought her to the Spirit Sector—the quarter that housed her chosen mirror—and her torture. The Spirit Sector also housed the religious chapels, temples, and abbeys of the five major religions of New Swansea and was home to five infamous mirrors: Beautiful Decay, Midnight, Noon, Winter, and Skulls—although many other mirrors decked the streets.
As Quinn approached said mirrors, one burned with the rays of a dying star, and another one was so white she couldn’t make out any image except a barrage of snow—an arctic tundra. The third frame was composed of sixty stacked skulls, and its surface showed mangled skeletons languishing under the liquid silver, hissing and calling Quinn’s name.
The mirror’s surface previewed the realm hidden within—some of the time. It all depended upon the mood of the creature trapped inside it. These mirrors were gilded prisons housing themost powerful deities in existence. Still, the only way for them to use their magic was to lure willing souls into their realms, and when the god was asleep or presumably not in the proper mood, the surface of the glass prison was merely reflective like a typical mirror. Hence, these deities became Mirror-Gods or Bargainers—most people interchanged the names when referencing them.
“I can’t do this,” Quinn said, but she didn’t have a choice because her Mirror-Ritehadto be completed.
Seven years of bad luck was no joke in New Swansea City. It was a place filled with grandeur and danger around every corner, and one did not test their luck here.
“Of course, you can,” Giselle Reyes-Vega said, her chestnut brown hair bouncing and framing her dark olive skin. But of course, Giselle would say this. She barely worried about anything. One of her favorite pastimes was collecting, and her entire room at the Viridian—a courtesan club and cabaret—was riddled with trinkets from all over the city. Bells, clock hands, boxes, jewels, books, pillows, blankets, statues, and scrolls all glittered in messy piles around the room.
“We have all challenged a mirror and survived unscathed,”Giselle amended, as though she noticed the mood was still sour.
Quinn’s eyes instinctively traced to Jane, who very much had severe consequences from a mirror deal, and the attention didn’t go unnoticed because Jane added, “I didn’t get my consequences from my Mirror-Rite. I can’t dance anymore because of a foolish bargain with the Looking Glass.”
Fuck.
The entire group gasped, horrified.The Looking Glass—also known as the Mirror of Nightmares—was said to be the oldest and most powerful god in the entire country.
“Why the fuck would you ever bargain with him?” Jevon Yale asked, his eyes wide as he ran a hand through his unruly blond locks. He wore worry like a police badge over his ruffled single-breasted frock coat with a purple feathered pocket square. As usual, his state of dress left much to be desired, and his blond hair was a moppy mess. The man couldn’t keep the wrinkles out of his clothing even if he wished for it upon a mirror. Yet there was still something dangerously handsome about him.
Something in his silent fidgeting and brooding made girls flock to his side.
Jane’s resulting glower could turn someone to stone. “Do you think I would have done it if I had a choice?”
“Why wouldn’t you have a choice?” Constance asked.
Jane crossed her arms. “Can we focus? This isn’t about me. It’s about Quinn’s Mirror-Rite.”
Yes, Quinn should be focusing on her own deal, but Jane had never before offered up so much information about her bad deal, and the entire group was fascinated and wanted to know more. Quinn had about fifteen questions she wanted to ask, but Jane's monstrous glower meant there was no more broaching that subject, so Quinn turned her focus back to her own task.
Anxiety twisted in her stomach as her eyes traced back to the Spirit Sector’s mirrors.
Nope, nope, nope. Fucking nope.She was not doing this.
“We should just leave.” Quinn’s neck stiffened, suddenly aching. “Maybe I should accept the bad luck and move on with my life.”
“You can’t afford it,” Jane said, rubbing at her temples. “You’re going to be absolutely fine. I promise.”
“Mirrors are evil. They try to make rotten deals all the time.” Quinn’s eyes shifted to Beautiful Decay, the second most vicious mirror in the city, just behind the Looking Glass. Its surface was flickering molten silver, and it moved like waves crashing in the ocean. Wisteria petals skated in the liquid like ice dancers during a performance, and belladonna flowers and thistles formed the frame. Beautiful yet deadly.
