Page 91 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
“Yes.” He handed her a box.
Stepping away from the samples, Quinn placed the package next to the sink before she removed her gloves and washed up. As she started to open the package, Emrys cautioned, “Wait. It smel—”
But his warning came too late.
Blood exploded all over Quinn’s face and chest. She coughed, and it spilled from her mouth. Her whole body shivered, and she began to gag. It was caked everywhere, dripping from her chest and onto the floor, creating a river.
Quinn sucked in a breath and held her hands out, frozen. Shock cascaded through her bones, and she had no idea what to do.
Emrys was a stone statue. Inhumanly still.
Quinn turned to the sink and tossed water on her face and into her mouth, trying to get the blood off her skin and eyelashes. Appearing at her side, Emrys handed her a towel. She snatched it and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed her face.
Emrys was only inches from her now, watching with preternatural stillness. “Has anyone ever told you that you look amazing covered in blood?”
She wasn’t sure if he said it to break the tension or if he meant it. He stroked a finger along her collarbone, scooping up a stream of crimson. She shivered. Emrys placed his finger in his mouth, tasting the blood.
“Oh, god. I hope that wasn’t diseased.” She coughed and pinched her fingertips together.
“It wasn’t.”
“How would you know?” Quinn snapped before realizing that as a vampire, he must be able to tell from tasting the blood.
Emrys cleared his throat and crossed his arms, leaning against the table. “I just know. But if you don’t believe me, you can live the next couple of years in terror if you would like.”
“Right,” she whispered, fiercely scrubbing her skin raw. “What in all the mirrors was that? Why would someone send me a box of blood?”
Emrys returned to the box with gloves and picked up a note wrapped in a plastic bag.
“Sweet Quinny, good work leading me to my prize. You have until the Suitor Ball to find the third Blood Mirror. If you fail to find it in time, I will murder one of your friends. And remember, I am always watching.”
Emrys read the note, his voice coated with a plague.
Her knees buckled, and she braced the sink for support. The walls felt like they were closing inward, trapping, and crushing her—the Mirror of Terror’s warning. Four fears would come true. Her friends’ dying was one of the fears.
She wanted to vomit.
“Fucking shattered mirrors,” Quinn cursed, her fingers grabbing the sink so tightly her knuckles grew white.
“They’re threatening you.” Jevon appeared next to Emrys, glancing down at the note. Quinn shuddered. She’d entirely forgotten he was there.
The man truly was like air, impossible to see but somehow always around. If Constance was the wraith of the group, Jevon was the mist. She might have been able to disappear into the night, but Jevon was the night. Always hidden in plain sight.
Quinn inhaled sharply. “So it would seem.”
Emrys set down the note, removed his gloves, and stepped away again, putting a significant amount of space between them.
“Quinnevere Igretta Ashelle, you better clean that up,” Uncle Matias said, far more concerned about the mess than the fact that his niece was covered in gore. It would have been upsetting, except Quinn had once accidentally exploded bowels, blood, and stomach contents all over the place.
Emrys glowered. “Go take a shower, Quinn. I’ll clean this up.”
“Wait.” Lightning struck her heart. She’d forgotten. “What time is it?” she asked, her eyes wide and probably wild.
“3:15 pm.”
“Oh,bloody mirrors. Ballet auditions,” she whispered as tears pooled in her eyes. The one thing that possibly wasn’t going wrong in her life was about to slip through her fingers. Auditions were at 3:30 pm, and she was covered in blood, and the lab was a mess. “I am going to miss them.”
“No, you won’t. You will get cleaned up and go.”
