Chapter 45
Forty-Five
“ T hat took too long,” Jevon said through his teeth as he pressed the knife into Giselle’s neck, causing a drop of blood to run from the wound. Painful but not deadly, but her face paled from his original wound.
Fire seethed in Quinn’s stomach. She wanted to murder him for even touching Giselle—her one loyal friend. But instead, she walked over to the monster and held out the fake paintings. “As you requested.”
He didn’t take them. Instead, he asked, “What took so long?”
Emrys cut in. “How did you do it without losing your soul?”
“Who says I haven’t?” she snapped. Instinctively, she knew none of this was his fault, but it was incredibly hard watching him do absolutely nothing or, worse, hurt Giselle. Quinn knew he was compelled to do it because Jevon had his painting from the second Blood Mirror, but she still couldn’t help as anger bubbled out at the entire situation.
“What took you so long?” Jevon asked again.
The vein in her neck pulsed, but she laced a false smile on her face. “I had to convince the mirror not to take my soul immediately. It took a while.” A half-truth .
The answer seemed to appease him. “Hand me them over, and I’ll let Giselle go.”
Giselle’s life meant way more than trying to resist him—Quinn had given up her soul for it—so she handed over the fake paintings without hesitation. Once the scrolls slipped into his fingers, Jevon threw Giselle with a force that nearly knocked Quinn to the floor.
“Are you okay?” Quinn asked, examining her friend’s facial wound.
“Mostly,” Giselle said. “Just another interesting day.” She forced a smile.
Jevon sauntered to the mirror. He lifted a wine-bottled rock and hurled it, shattering the mirror into pieces. The room rained lifeblood—filled with red dust and jagged stained-glass splinters.
“No!” Quinn screamed and fell to her knees, scrambling to grab one of the shards before they disappeared into nonexistence. What happened to the mirror’s soul when it died? And if the mirror disappeared, would Quinn die? There was no way of knowing what would happen to her soul once the mirror finally took its cost.
The world was too dark to believe that destroying the mirror would destroy her bargain. But she had no way of knowing.
Would it destroy her? Her hand circled a piece as a sob escaped her throat. “No.”
Javon cleared his throat and stepped on her hand, holding the slice of glass. “Drop it, or I'll kill her.” He had Giselle by the hair again with a knife to her throat.
“No, please,” Quinn begged. “Please.” She thought if she held onto a piece as she had with the original blood mirror, it could save her.
“Don’t test me again.” He released his foot and pressed the blade against the skin, causing a trickle of red to appear on Giselle’s throat. “I don’t care enough about her to keep her alive, Quinnevere.”
Quinn’s heart pounded in her ears. She felt its angry pulsing in her veins, as she opened her hand and let the shard fall to the floor, clinking as it bounced off the stone. The sound of her devastation. Her life. Her future. A sound that would forever haunt her soul.
Jevon tossed Giselle to the ground, and her hands scraped against the glass as it dissolved. A crimson shadow painted the floor where the pieces once were, and Jevon’s fingers were stained red. The sign of a mirror murderer.
“Teagan, restrain her,” Jevon glowered.
The countess grabbed Quinn’s hands and wrenched them behind her back before dragging her after Jevon. Quinn didn’t fight back. Instead, she went completely limp and forced Teagan to carry her as if she were a dead body—making it extra hard.
As they reached the exit, Quinn changed her tactics and started to struggle. Unfortunately, it was a little too late because as soon as they managed to pass the threshold, the vampires gained their strength back, and her tattoo seeped back onto her arm. Jevon’s hands also magically reverted to pale ivory, showing no sign of the red staining from murdering the mirror.
“Make her sleep,” Jevon said, seeing Quinn’s struggle.
“Go to sleep,” the countess said harshly.
It was a compulsion.
No .
She couldn’t fall asleep. She needed a plan.
Quinn tried to fight it. But the struggle was useless.
Darkness descended into her every pore, and she passed out, crumbling to the ground.
Fairy lights twinkled. Buzzing and floating. Shapes painted in her mind in shiny yellow and periwinkle. She blinked, and a room made of pink surfaced. It looked like a fairy had vomited on every surface. Quinn loved girly things, but this was a completely different thing. This was a nightmare made manifest.
Pink, puffy, and overwhelming.
Jevon was nowhere to be found.
Some of the tension released from her shoulders because she was happy to get a reprieve from his dark machinations.
However, she wasn’t free. Seren lounged on a periwinkle-pink sofa and refused to look in Quinn’s direction. So, they were working together, after all. It was impossible to decide which betrayal hurt more. She loved both of her friends. But they were never real. They were ghosts. Illusions of love. And that was the most heartbreaking of all. Quinn’s hair matched her pain, turning a somber midnight blue, while her nails were a fearful white. Ropes chafed at her wrists, which seemed like overkill because no human had a chance of outrunning a vampire.
In the corner, the compelled countess helped Giselle into a massive ballgown, and a couple of vampires Quinn didn’t know were sprawled out on the sickening decor. But an anchor dropped in Quinn’s stomach. Emrys was missing. Despite everything that happened over the last eleven days, the one positive thing in a sea of rot was her newly established friendship —or whatever it was with Emrys. A truce?
A sickness festered in her stomach. The night had only just begun to sour, and it would certainly get much worse. But she wasn’t powerless.
She had the real paintings.
She rubbed her legs together, and they were still fastened there. Thank the stars.
The vampires were preparing for the ball, and very soon, Quinn would be forced to undress and get into a gown.
Jevon’s plan clearly involved the ball, and he wanted them all to see whatever was going to happen. He wanted an audience. But it was still unclear what he wanted. He had the paintings. Now what?
“What is this?” Teagan asked .
Giselle snatched whatever it was back out of the vampire’s hands. “Oh, that’s my lucky gemstone, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t touch it.”
Giselle didn’t have a lucky anything.
But Quinn didn’t get an opportunity to ponder that riddle because Seren noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye and snapped her gaze over.
Quinn’s heart lurched as the semi-unstable vampire’s attention locked fully on her. A tension sucked the air out of the room between them, and Seren’s eyes grew to a shade darker than black, yet she didn’t say a word.
Nothing.
It wasn’t logical; it was all emotion, and Quinn didn’t know what to do in a situation that defied reason.
She opened her mouth to say something, to break the tension channeling through her body, but as she did, Seren dropped her eyes back to her book and continued to read, her feet dangling over the chair's side.
Shit. What did that even mean? Was it a psychological game?
Quinn needed a moment to think, to plan, and not be seen, but her hair shifted to a scheming forest green. Fucking Periwinkle. This was a horrible mirror cost because everyone would know the precise moment when she thought it changed to something else. She’d become as easy to read as one of Giselle’s many fiction books.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Pull yourself together . Quinn’s nails bit her palms, and she sucked in a deep breath, steadying her emotions and turning her hair back to red. Her hair color was locked to her emotions, not her mind, so she needed to control the former so that no one would discover the latter.
Quinn’s plan needed to be A) figure out what Jevon was doing and B) thwart it. You know, easy shi t.
It all revolved around the ball, and Quinn would figure it all out, but she let the problem stew in the back of her mind as she decided to help Giselle .
Reaching into her pocket, Quinn pulled out her medical kit—she never went anywhere without it. Balancing the scalpel, she sawed slowly along the strings of her binds, until they all fell loose. The whole time she worked, Seren refused to look over, yet she paid full attention.
From the way her ears perked up at attention, it was clear she knew exactly what Quinn was doing but didn’t stop her, and that didn’t bode well. Because the wickedest vampire in the room didn’t even feel like Quinn was a concern.
And maybe she wasn’t, but she refused to give up.
Once the ropes were removed, Quinn walked to Giselle without being stopped. In the vampires' arrogance, they thought two humans weren’t a threat. An assumption she’d make them pay for. But that would come later. Giselle had her glitter bombs, and Quinn had her brain and the paintings.
They’d figure something out.
“Would you like me to stitch that?” Quinn pointed at Giselle’s face wound, which was covered with cotton.
“Yes.”
“It’s going to hurt.”
“I know.” Giselle twitched but placed a resilient mask on. “I like pain.”
Shaking her head, Quinn made her friend sit. In a matter of minutes, she poured saline on the wound, cleaned it, and stitched it. The whole time, Giselle gritted her teeth but refused to whimper.
“It’ll leave a scar.” Quinn frowned.
“All the better.” Giselle winked. “Now, maybe people will stare at my face instead of my—”
“Oh, shut it.” Quinn laughed. “They’re still definitely going to look at your chest.”
“And ass,” Giselle added.
“You’re very good at stitching wounds,” Seren said, finally locking eyes with Quinn .
“I’ve had to be, considering I was raised in a morgue.” Quinn’s voice was poisonous gas.
Seren visibly swallowed. “I’m sorry.”
“For what? For Jane’s death? Threatening me? Killing my parents?” Quinn’s words were filled with a resolve that snapped every bone in her body, turning them into unbreakable diamonds. She wasn’t flesh anymore. She’d be stone. But not just any stone, diamonds.
“All of it,” Seren said without hesitation. “If it makes any difference, I never wanted you to play any part in this. But—”
“But what?” Quinn shook her head, disgusted. Her dress turned a lime green, but her hair remained dark crimson. “You cannot blame Jevon for your actions.” Seren wouldn’t be absolved just because it wasn’t her intention. She betrayed her friends in the worst way imaginable.
“I know. My actions are my own,” Seren said, her brown eyes swelling.
Anger spiked through Quinn’s blood. Seren’s betrayal felt like thousands of shards of shattered glass slowly slicing away at the skin—slowly bleeding to death. The friendship was a lie.
A dirty, broken lie.
Having deep relationships was hard for Quinn, and she only recently allowed herself to get close to people. She was rewarded with this. Two of the people she thought of as family had been using her for three years, and worse, they killed Jane—Quinn’s only true family.
“You’ve been playing with me for three years.” The words tasted like violation and empty promises.
“I—I never toyed with you,” Seren bit her lip. “I always thought of you as my friend. Possibly even the best friend I ever had.”
Quinn’s nostrils flared, and her heart felt like melting icicles. “Best friends don’t lie. They don’t pretend to be someone else, and they certainly don’t kill their friends or kidnap them.” Her eyes stung, but she refused to let Seren see her cry .
“There is nothing I can say to make up for all of this.” Seren’s shoulder slumped. “But I wish I could. You are truly my best friend, Quinny. Even though I would have never imagined it at the start, I love you.”
Giselle scoffed again. “I think you need to learn how to treat your friends.”
Seren ignored the comment. “You’re angry. I understand that, but we have eternity. You will forgive me.”
Nails bit at the center of Quinn’s palms. “I won’t.”
“And not that it matters,” Giselle said. “Since you seem not to care about our friendship at all, I won’t forgive you either.”
Tension cascaded over the room, circling and invading Quinn’s body. It choked her and clawed its way down her spine.
Eventually, Seren said, “You need to get dressed.”
There was no use in arguing. If Quinn didn’t comply, she’d certainly be forced. But she needed to figure out a way to get her new undergarments without anyone noticing the paintings. “Fine,” Quinn said. “But I have to use the lavatory.”
“Sure,” Seren said.
Quinn stalked into the powder room, thinking. What were the chances that the painting attached to her leg was Seren’s and not Constance’s?
Low.
Could be possible that Jevon was the murderer all along and not Seren.
It was worth a try.
Finding a soap bar, Quinn turned on the sink, wetted it, and wrote on the mirror, Tel Teagin and the other vampirs to leeve. Then Quinn called, “Seren, can you come help me in here?”
As Quinn waited, her fingers absentmindedly hovered over the paintings. Seren opened the door, and Quinn pointed at the mirror.
“Do it,” Quinn said as commandingly as possible. She held her breath, waiting, hoping.
Seren stepped back as if slapped, and she gasped, holding a hand to her mouth. But then she said, “Teagan, Veronica, and Charlie, I need you to do me a favor and go find Marcus, and please go now. It’s vitally important.” Now, speaking directly to Quinn, “You have—”
“No, don’t. I have nothing.” Quinn cut her off, knowing that whatever Seren said would be heard by the other vampire still leaving. “Don’t talk about this.”
Seren’s mouth moved but she was unable to form the next words.
Quinn ran a finger down her dress, hovering over the canvas. “It’s yours.”
Seren’s mouth worked and was blocked. Emrys said that whoever held their paintings could control them.
An anchor dropped in Quinn’s belly. It was a sickening feeling to control someone else. To command them, and that feeling spread to Quinn’s hair, which darkened to a sickly deep green. The idea of controlling someone else made her want to vomit but it also might be the advantage she needed.
“You will tell no one that I have the paintings.” Quinn’s voice was laced with an unbreakable command.
Seren nodded.
“Why do all of this?” Quinn asked, stepping out into the room.
Seren followed. “Because I love Gideon.” That was all the answer she was willing to give unless forced. Quinn opened her mouth—
“And what does Jevon want?” Giselle asked the question that was bubbling at the back of Quinn’s mind.
“Revenge,” Seren said. “The council condemned him to death for trading with a mirror and becoming a monster, so he vowed to get revenge. He wants to release the vampires at the ball and expose the prince as a blood-sucking devil in front of the entire city.”
Quinn let the words sink in, and a plan stirred in her stomach .
It was a foolish plan and had little chance of succeeding, but it could work.
If they were very lucky.
“Alright, here is what we are going to do. First, Seren will tell us the logistics of Jevon’s plan. Second, Giselle, you’ll get the Fant?mes and ask for help. And third, we’re going to find the rest of the vampires who belong to these paintings.”