Page 96 of Gilded Wicked Mirrors
Their blood mingled together, pouring from Quinn’s chest wound onto the victim. The longer she froze, the more blood leaked out and the more desperate her own situation became.
But she couldn’t get her fingers to move. She couldn’t turn to meet the vampire who still hovered behind her.
“Oh, Quinny.” The vampire's sultry, wicked tone snaked at the nape of her neck, causing hairs to rise. “Quinny, Quinny, Quinn, turn around.”
It had a voice of death.
Hot breaths heated the back of her neck.
Chills rolled down her spine. Rolling her shoulders back and holding her head high, she tried to be strong and face her death with bravery.
This creature would not see her beg or cry.
Cold fingers stroked her chin and tucked her blood-soaked hair behind her ear.
“You were not supposed to see this.” The vampire whispered into her ear. “This was not supposed to happen.” The vampire moved their hand over the fang marks on Quinn’s shoulder, making sure not to touch her skin. “Move away from the girl, Quinny. She is dead.”
Quinn was a granite statue, her limbs heavy and limp. Even if she wanted to move, she wasn’t sure if she could. But she didn’t even try to move. If her last living act was to defy this vampire, then that was what she was going to do.
They clicked their tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, you’re a bad, bad ballerina. Don’t make me compel you.”
“Then do it,” she breathed with a tiny squeak.
“Move away from the body.” The vampire’s sultry voice slightly shifted to a hypnotic enchantment. One that she couldn't refuse.
It clawed at the back of her mind like an invasion.
A parasite.
And she had to comply. This magic was far more potent than Francois's siren song. This was an immovable wall.
Quinn’s movements were slow and filled with agony. Every tiny shift shot jolts of pain through her. Heaving herself away, she left a streak of crimson in her wake. When she had no strength, she collapsed against the wall.
With a swift movement, far gentler than she’d expected, the vampire flipped her body over and leaned her against the wall. “I am sorry about this.”
They slid a finger across her shoulder, dipping it in her blood before sucking it into its mouth. With this motion, their hood fell from its face, their expression pure agony like the blood burned its esophagus.
“Hmmm. You always taste sweet.”
Always?
They’d tasted her blood before?
Quinn scowled and recognized the vampire. They looked slightly different, but—
“Forget my face,” the vampire said hypnotically.
Suddenly, Quinn’s brain fogged. She knew that face—she did—but now it was all a blur. Blinking, she tried to correct her vision. Yet, despite staring into their eyes, she couldn’t tell what color they were. She had face blindness.
“You were never supposed to be involved,” the vampire said, sorrow painting their words. “As soon as I leave this alley, you will forget our interaction. You will wake up next to a dead body, not knowing how you got here, and the next time you see me, you will know my face and have fond feelings.” The vampire stroked her forehead sweetly. “Goodbye, little Quinny. Try not to die from blood loss. That would ruin everything.” The creature glanced down at Quinn’s ruined body and shook its head. “That will not do. I’ll have to get one of your terrible friends to help you.”
The words lingered in the air as a grey fog rolled into her mind, and blackness claimed her.
Thirty-Three
The world swam in a daze of shadows and agony. All 206 bones in Quinn's body screamed and pulsated with pain, and her muscles swam in a sea of sorrow.
All she knew was the pain.
