Chapter 37

Thirty-Seven

E mrys stole her breath and her sanity, which was precisely why she needed to postpone the "I touch you everywhere you touched me" session. Quinn needed to stop stalling and face her fears and her memories.

She needed to revisit the Mirror of Midnight.

The memories were the key to the case. Quinn recognized the vampire in the alley.

She knew it in her core.

Besides, she had promised to return, and the first time she visited the mirror, it wasn't all that bad. Her hand slid to the bald spot at the back of her neck. It wasn't too bad. It was only noticeable when she had her hair up in a bun, and even then, it was passable as done on purpose for fashion.

Emrys and Quinn walked back to her room to find Giselle sprawled on the floor, murmuring to herself, and completely ignoring everything else. She was surrounded by hundreds of tiny pieces from vacuums, cameras, and clocks. Jevon sat aimlessly, trying to help, but was more in the way than anything.

His head rose as they entered, but as per usual, he didn't say much, and Constance waved with a bright smile. But Giselle either didn't notice or didn't believe they required acknowledgment.

"I am returning to the Mirror of Midnight to ask her to restore my memories from the vampire attack." Quinn's words were met with three different versions of surprise.

Giselle dropped a wrench on her toe and mumbled, "Ouch," Jevon rose from his seat silently, concern etched into his roguish features, and Constance just stared at her with large, terror-riddled eyes.

"But you hate mirrors," Constance said, a wisp of air swallowing most of her words. "Are you sure you want to risk it again?"

"I have to," Quinn said.

Constance nodded, but all the blood leeched from her face. "Alright."

A couple of hours later, the group boarded a cable car leading to the Spirit Sector and the Mirror of Midnight. Everyone was there except Constance, who had to go to the Viridian for dress rehearsals.

As Quinn slid onto the bench, Jevon asked, "Quinny, can I talk to you for a moment." Unease rippled in his eyes.

"Yes, of course," Quinn said, sliding over and making room for him.

"You seem to be getting close." The words were encouraging, but something grim lingered in his voice.

"You seem upset."

"I . . ." He started and stopped as if not knowing what words to use. "I just don't want to lose you like I lost my brother. He was so obsessed with finding answers that he lost track of the things that mattered. "

Quinn squeezed his hand, remembering their conversation at the Russet. "I am not going to be like your brother. I want to find the murderer."

"But you're already changing," he said. "You're doing things you never would've done before, like leaving home, whatever it is you're doing with the prince, and standing up to your uncle."

He had a point, but she didn't necessarily think that those were bad changes. She didn't feel any different. "Those things were always bound to happen at some point, but I promise, I won't change that much, but I have to continue this through. The murderer is threatening you, and I need to keep you safe."

He sighed and leaned back into the seat, his eyes on the city passing by. "I know, and I want to find them, too. I'm sorry, I worry about you."

"I appreciate it, Jevon, but I promise it will be okay." The words were not convincing, but if she said them out loud, maybe they could be true.

Twenty minutes later, they finally reached the Mirror of Midnight, where twilight lit up the sky in crimson watercolors.

A sea of ribbons whipped in the wind, and rose petals rained down the street. It was a treacherous time for the Day of Ribbons and Roses, the seventh day of the Blood Festival, because the city was on the edge of a storm. Yet the chaotic weather made the imagery more beautiful.

It was like a dance of color and remembrance, each bow representing a life lost not just in the Blood Rebellion but from any vampire attack.

Quinn even brought her own ribbon to tie to a streetlamp to represent all the lives lost in the Ashelle and most recent murders.

"Are you ready for this?" Giselle asked.

"No," Quinn whispered. "But that doesn't matter."

She stepped up to the swirling surface of the mirror, but Emrys grabbed her hand and pulled her back. "Do you want us to come with you?" he asked as if sensing her fear. "This isn't your rite. You don't have to do it alone. "

She blinked, taken aback. She wouldn't have to do it by herself? "Yes, I would like you to come."

Wasting no time and not wanting to think about what she was about to do, Quinn moved into the liquid. It was as uncomfortable as the first time, like gelatin crawling up her flesh.

Gasping for air, Quinn entered a wonderland of living soap bubbles. The place was still composed of midnight dreams, but instead of being in the expanse of space like last time, she was in a black void, filled with bubbles holding galaxies and stars. And it rained golden stardust.

Emrys followed her, his usual ease painted on his face as he leaned against a bubble filled with stars. Giselle walked in the darkness with her mouth hanging open, but Jevon was nowhere.

Before Quinn could ask, Giselle said, "He didn't want to come. He's not very fond of—" Giselle nodded at the world around them.

One of the bubbles burst into pieces, sending more stardust flying, and Midnight stepped out with a saccharine smile coating her cheeks. Her pink hair glowed and danced on a phantom wind. "Hello, Quinnevere. It is good to see you again, and you brought me friends!" She clapped and jumped with joy, her words gilded with dubious intent.

Quinn's necklace buzzed, forcing her to pull it out. Once again, the crimson shard melted into liquid scarlet as it did piqué manege turns out of its cage. When it finally stopped dancing, the liquid metal solidified before shattering into tiny pieces and leaving the brunette woman, Blood, once again standing before them.

"Hello, Quinnevere." Blood smiled, and her eyes were green pools of love. It was as if she were seeing an old friend after years away.

"Ugh, you brought her again." Midnight's voice was a tantrum. "She's absolutely no fun. No helping this time unless I say so, Blood."

Before the two could get into a fight, Quinn cut in, " Midnight, I would like you to give me my memories back from the night I was attacked by a vampire."

"That's not my name," the teenage mirror with the baby-like voice said.

Quinn rolled her shoulders back, preparing to deal with the tricks Midnight would play. "What is your name?"

Midnight tapped her nose in thought. "Umm . . . I like periwinkles."

"Your name is Periwinkle?"

"Sure . . . Yes, I like that. Call me Periwinkle." She dropped her hand and smiled brightly. "So, you want your memories back. I could do that for a price, of course."

Of course . . .

During the exchange, Emrys leaned with his arms crossed in silence, amusement lighting his tawny cheeks. Giselle seemed fascinated. She followed each word as if she were cataloging it for later. The girl always responded to dangerous situations in adverse ways.

"What would you like for my memories?" Quinn asked. "Hair again?"

She didn't particularly want to give more hair, but she was willing to sacrifice her life to save people's lives. Especially her friends' lives, who would most likely be the murderer's next victims if Quinn didn't find them.

"No, not hair. I already have yours." She pursed her lips. "It would be no fun to take more."

Quinn heard the girl's words but was too stuck in thought to acknowledge them. The mirror. How much would that information cost? She vocalized the question out loud.

Periwinkle frowned. "Unfortunately, that cost would be quite steep. It's not quite soul-steep, but for me to give that information, I would have to defy another mirror, and it would cost me quite a lot, which means your cost would have to be as emotionally or physically high as mine."

Not quite soul steep .

It was too steep.

So, she would focus on finding the mirror a different way . . . possibly using her necklace?

But for now, she focused on the killer first.

"So, how much for the memories?" Quinn asked.

Periwinkle tapped her nose again, her face bright with mischief. "You could give me five days of your life or your necklace or a gallon of your blood."

That would be nearly all of it. No one would survive giving a gallon of their blood. An adult human had roughly 1.5 gallons of blood in their body. Quinn opened her mouth to respond when the Blood Mirror spoke.

"You must be very lonely," Blood said, her head tilting empathetically.

Quinn narrowed her eyes, unsure if the brunette was compassionate or faking it. Both mirrors were gutturally unsettling, but at least Periwinkle's motives were clear. On the other hand, Blood was a shroud of darkness and mystery.

A shiver skated down her spine.

"I am an endless abyss of isolation," Periwinkle said with a sigh, her voice light and filled with childlike awe.

"And hyperbolic." Giselle tittered, enjoying herself far too much.

"Yes, yes, that big word, too," Periwinkle agreed.

Quinn cleared her throat, trying to get them all back on task. "We're discussing payment for my memories."

"Oh, yes." Periwinkle rolled her eyes. "You're about as much fun as Blood. But I like your friend, Giselle Catalina Reyes-Vega, daughter of—"

"Yes, I like you too." Giselle cut off the girl before she would give away any of her personal information.

"You could give me some of your hair," Periwinkle told Giselle. "Or maybe a toenail."

Before Giselle could offer to rip her toenail off—something she would definitely do—Quinn said, "I think I'll be paying the cost."

The one controlling the situation.

"Oh, fine." Periwinkle loosed an exasperated breath. "Maybe I could give you something as a cost, Quinnevere. How about acne? Your face is way too pretty. Or maybe I could give you bad luck for the day. Or I could break your leg. That would be a nice present."

"I think you need to redefine your concept of presents." Giselle laughed, enjoying this far too much.

You must be very lonely. Blood's words rang in her ears. Lonely. It was a hint. Quinn's gaze caught on the brunette, who nodded and smiled softly as if she knew precisely Quinn's thoughts. She was beginning to realize that Blood didn't speak unless it was useful.

But why?

Something about the way the mirror looked at her made Quinn's unease melt away. It was love—pure love.

An uncomfortable emotion. Quinn gulped. "What if we stayed with you and kept you company for the day?"

The violet pools in Periwinkle's eyes shifted from amusement to sorrow at the words. Vulnerability was painted across her face. It was the expression of a lonely little girl, trapped and desperate for friends.

Periwinkle visibly swallowed. "I'll accept this cost if you also promise to come back to visit me again!"

Quinn felt for the mirror. Her heart was fragile glass, moments away from shattering. Quinn hated seeing others in pain. "The day is to be taken immediately and only the normal twenty-four human hours of our day."

It was a gamble. Quinn needed all the time she could get to solve the case, but if she had her memories back, she might be able to find the killer before they struck again. A lost day would put them just before the Illusion Ceremony and the day before the ball .

It would work.

"Yes, I agree," Periwinkle said.

A day later.

Shock shackled Quinn's brain as she fell out of the mirror and hit the ground hard on her uncalloused hands and feet. She let out a groan and leaned back on her knees. Her breaths came in waves of tension. Her memories suffocated her and processing them seemed impossible.

Emrys gracefully stepped out of the mirror and crouched beside her, watching.

She leaned back on her feet, her mind a splattered painting. Splotches upon splotches of information danced and pulsed at her brain and gave her a piercing headache. Quinn rolled her knees into her chest and hugged them close.

You were never supposed to be involved. The words hit like wildfire. Consuming and inescapable.

It's what the vampire said in the alley. The truth hit with the force of a nightmare. Everything from the ally rushed back in with the weight of a cable car. And the vampire's slender face formed and burned into her mind.

Constance.