Chapter 15

Fifteen

" W hat have you discovered here?" Emrys's voice, usually a dark-devilish-honey, now sounded like a bothersome gnat.

"Nothing I plan on sharing with you," Quinn said, turning her back on him and walking into the center of a wooden pathway, a crossroads of sorts that led to four different paths. The glow of the cave's fireflies illuminated their faces, and the water dampened their conversation.

Emrys turned his inscrutable gaze on Giselle. "You seem the more practical lady. Are you willing to share what you have learned?"

Giselle snorted and covered her mouth with a hand, trying to stifle her laughter. "You clearly don't know us at all."

Emrys smiled wide and bright, showing a dimple. "Yes, Lady Reyes-Vega. I was desperately mistaken. Quinnevere's blood streams with practicality."

Giselle laughed harder. "I like him."

"Sometimes, you're impossible." Quinn glowered at her best friend, who simply shrugged.

"Does this mean that you'll tell me the information you've gathered about the murder thus far?" Emrys asked Giselle .

"Tell me why you were with Jane, and we will tell you," Quinn said defiantly, crossing her arms. "You don't seem like the type of gentleman who settles on one dalliance, so I don't believe you were courting Jane."

"No, I wasn't courting her." His eyes sparkled as he emphasized the word. "Jane was like my sister."

Quinn sucked in a long, belabored breath. "Then, why did you need her help ?"

"I cannot tell you that," he said, leaning against the wooden rail and striking a pose.

Ugh. He loved to do that. And it was irritating. And distracting.

She swallowed and tore her gaze away. "You're asking me to trust you with vital information, that you aren't her killer, that you have her best interest at heart, and yet you're unwilling to trust me with your truth?"

"It's not a matter of trust." Emrys visibly held something back.

"It certainly seems like it is," she said under her breath.

Before he could respond, high-pitched feminine laughter floated across a path. Jevon appeared with both a clearly intoxicated Constance and the ever-regal Countess Atwater on his arms. The glee on Constance's lips faded as her eyes locked on the prince. And before Emrys could turn his head to glimpse her, Constance disappeared into an alcove like a wraith clinging to darkness.

That was strange. It was like she purposely was avoiding Emrys.

Was that one of Constance's mirror abilities, too? The ability to disappear quickly?

Unfortunately, Countess Atwater continued on and bounded across the paths with a terrorizing expression on her face.

In what world did Jevon think this was appropriate? He knew Quinn hated the countess. Teagan Atwater was the devil incarnate, and she took every opportunity to mortify people .

Quinn respectfully bowed to the prince. "Goodnight, Mr. Avalon." She couldn't avoid the countess and her plans for torture, but Quinn could bow out as quickly as possible, steal Jevon away, and ask him what he was thinking.

"Technically, it should be goodnight, Your Royalle Highness," the countess corrected, staring daggers at the other girls.

Quinn clenched her fists and said through gritted teeth, "Goodnight, Your Royalle Highness ." Without hesitation, she stalked to Jevon, clutched his arm, and pulled him away. Once they reached Constance's hiding spot in the alcove, Quinn turned on her friend. "Jevon, what were you thinking escorting Teagan Atwater?"

"He was thinking with his cock—" Giselle started.

"While I often think with my cock"—Jevon waved a hand in the air—"I was distracting Lady Teagan with my considerable talents so she would stop asking around about Jane. She was being far too obvious and would ruin our plans."

Constance's face slightly soured. She hated the countess and probably hated the thought of Jevon entertaining her. But Constance was ever the actress and always hid her true feelings behind jubilance and liquor. Just like she was currently hiding her current grief behind the alcohol. Quinn couldn't fault her for that because she was also hiding—behind work and always being busy.

If she didn't stop, she wouldn't have to feel the pain.

"Teagan was asking about Jane?" Quinn's brow furrowed.

"Probably on the prince's behalf, but I thought I would intervene," he said, his shoulders slightly slumped.

"Yes, good thinking." Quinn nodded. "Did you learn anything on your adventures?"

Constance held out a hand. "Wait, wait before we go on. We need more drinks." Then she led the group to a seating area with cocktail waitresses.

Once they were served, the friends traded stories. Jevon and Constance discovered that Francois was the Fox but were unable to find him. They also learned that Jane was a well-respected member of Les Fant?mes and lived in the row houses above the casino.

The group talked and drank for a couple of hours. Losing themselves to the buzz of alcohol and the excitement of the casino. They danced the lindy-hop and let loose, which was admittedly hard for Quinn, but she needed something to keep her from thinking about the threatening note, the murder, and the fact that she had no suspects or true leads in the case.

She needed something to keep her from breaking down. So, she drank and partied . . . until Jevon pulled her aside.

"How are you doing?" Compassion painted his face. "I know you loved Jane."

"I am fine." Quinn hiccupped as she slumped down onto a bench next to Jevon. The world was a bit blurry now that she wasn't in motion.

"Well, I know that is a lie." He squeezed her hands. "You're like my little sister, Quinny. I know when you're hiding the truth."

"Truly, I'm fine," she fibbed. "I am okay."

"You're allowed to mourn," Jevon said. "I don't know if I ever told you this, but I lost my brother. I know what it is like to grieve."

"What?" She breathed. "I didn't know you had a brother. I'm so sorry."

Shock rattled her core, eating away at her composure. Jevon never talked about his family before and certainly never told her something like that.

He pinched his lips together. "He wasn't blood, and we weren't related at all, but he was my brother. I am not sure if that makes sense."

"It makes sense." Quinn nodded. "It's like how I feel about all of you. You're family without being my family ."

"Yes, exactly," he said. "Anyway, I get it. I know what it feels like to have complicated feelings about the ones we've lost, too. "

Quinn rubbed her eyes to keep tears in. "I don't wanna feel, and I know I'm a terrible person for it."

"I understand that well. Sometimes, I hated my brother." He tensed. "But I also loved him, but he died because he tried to murder me, and I unfortunately fought back."

She gasped. "He tried to murder you?"

"He became obsessed with fixing what he deemed to be a massive mistake I made. He wasn't alone. He convinced my other best mate to join him in his delusions. They didn't like that I traded with the mirror and thought that I'd become a monster that needed to be exterminated. Because of their obsessions, they lost track of who they were." Jevon's voice was hollow, and his eyes were distant, as if he were remembering it all again.

"What happened to your other best mate?" Quinn asked.

"After the dust settled and our friend was dead, we made peace, but we've never talked since that day."

It was all horrible. Quinn couldn't imagine what it would be like to be so betrayed by her family. Jevon was strong.

He was being utterly vulnerable. Was she even worthy of this level of trust? "Thank you for sharing with me." Quinn gulped, her throat burning with unshed emotions. "I know it wasn't easy."

Jevon opened his arms for a hug, but when she bristled, he dropped his hands into his lap. Quinn didn't hug. "Thank you for allowing me to share it."

His words cut to the core and both warm and sad feelings stirred inside her. But she still refused to cry.

After the conversation, the night continued, but she couldn't help the dread pooling in her stomach. Jane was murdered, and it was somehow linked to Blood Mirrors, but she had absolutely no way of getting information about them.

The Grand Library had archives, but it didn't keep a history of mirrors because the Bargainers forbade it. If someone wanted to learn their history, they had to bargain for it. This was another way the mirrors kept the city dependent upon their deals .

None of the current evidence pointed to a suspect. Even if Quinn pulled prints from the feathers and cross-checked them, all she would have would be a match with no suspect. There was no feasible way to test every citizen's print to find a suspect.

So, she had nothing useful. No real clues.

She was stuck, and her life depended on solving this case in the next nine —eight—days. The killer would strike again before the week was out.