Chapter 44

Forty-Four

B lood gushed from the sky, oozing down her face, and covering her body in crimson. Quinn pinched her eyes tight. As she stepped fully into the mirror, the blood rain ceased, but it still clung to her dress, hair, and skin. She cleared her eyes with her palms, and a woman stood at the center of a deep crimson room. Red from the floor to the ceiling with blood crying from the walls.

The mirror's face and arms were shaped out of puzzle pieces, and her hair was sculpted from white flower petals. The petals from magnolias and roses draped past sharp cheekbones, full lips, and a chiseled jawline. The bodice of her gown was formed out of angel feathers. Blood dripped from both the petals and the feathers down her body like wet watercolor paint. Porcelain butterfly wings stretched from her back like a carved statue. Her scarlet, glowing eyes repeatedly blinked like a doll, and red smoke tendrils slithered from them. Blood dripped from her mouth, and she licked her lips as if savoring the taste. It was like a vampire, and an abstract painting melded and created a new creature altogether.

A new and far more terrifying predator.

The creature's eyes raked over Quinn's necklace, staring covetingly at it as it waltzed out of its cage and formed into the brunette woman.

Neither mirror spoke, and Quinn didn't have any words.

"You have come for my paintings, Daughter of Blood Glass." Her voice was like a beautiful white swan. Enchanting and dangerous. "There is only but one trade, but are you brave enough?" she asked, waving her arm as seven paintings appeared.

Shockingly, they looked normal and as if they were created seven hundred years ago. They were small, the size of two books lengthwise. If she rolled them up, she'd be able to hide them under her skirt.

Three of them were familiar. One was a dancer from the Viridian—Constance, or Seren—and another was Emrys's second.

Quinn finally answered. "What's the trade?"

The mirror slowly blinked and cocked her head like a snake. "A soul."

"No," Quinn breathed.

A petal wilted and fell from the girl's temple. "It's the only way. "

"I'll give something else, anything else." Quinn's voice shook.

"Only the soul trade is sufficient." The creature's voice was a wicked enchantress.

Quinn bristled, and the chambers of her heart filled with petrified wood chewed by termites. There was no way Quinn would trade her soul to a mirror. "I won't give you my soul. There has to be something else."

"You misunderstand me, girl." The mirror cocked its head. "The Accords require a soul trade, not me."

"A soul?" Quinn's voice decayed like the ruins outside.

It was the worst trade imaginable. Her soul was the only thing she truly owned. The one thing that was undeniably hers. The only thing she had true control over. Quinn trembled, her body convulsing under the weight of this decision.

Either she gave up her soul or her friends' lives. It was an impossible choice.

"What happens when a person trades their soul to a mirror?" she asked.

"The soul inhabiting the current mirror is freed, and the person trading their soul takes their place." It was Blood who answered.

Quinn swallowed, the knot in her throat tightening. "Instantly?"

"Not necessarily," the puzzle mirror said, the pieces of her eyebrows creasing together.

It didn't have to be instant. So, it was possible for Quinn to trade her soul at a date in the future. If she could set it so she'd have a long life, possibly trading wouldn't be all that terrible. Yes, it would be horrible to end up in a mirror regardless, but the alternative was allowing the people she loved to die.

Allowing Giselle to die.

The image from the Mirror of Terror flashed into Quinn's mind. Clutching Giselle's lifeless body, blood dripping in a sea around her. Imprisoning her in endless sorrow. Her mouth ran dry, and her spirit ached. Giselle was the one person who always had Quinn's back. She was family.

There was still one fear still yet to come true, and she would not let it be Giselle dying.

Quinn would never let it happen. She'd rather give up her own life to save her friends than watch them die.

This was the ultimate choice. There was no use resisting. She'd passed the point of no return a while ago. Quinn's voice crumbled as she said, "I'll trade my—"

"No!" Blood screamed, cutting her off. "Quinnevere, you cannot do this."

Every muscle in Quinn's body felt weak, and she shook with fear. "Perhaps the bravest thing I will ever do is accept that I cannot control everything." Her voice trembled with her body. "Perhaps all I can control is my mind and how I respond. "

"No, Quinnevere, you cannot give up." Blood sobbed.

"I'm not giving up," Quinn said and cupped Blood's face. Tears painted her cheeks. "I am not giving up. I am making the choice for my family. You must understand that."

"You can't. You're too young." Blood stroked away one of Quinn's tears.

"Seren once told me that she would do anything for love," Quinn said. "I didn't understand at the time, but I do now. I have to save my friends and New Swansea from Jevon."

A surge of warm conviction spread over Quinn, and she tingled. She had to trade her soul for the paintings, but what if she got more? What if she found a way to live both a long life and protect the paintings—a way to keep them from Jevon, a way to live long enough to defeat him?

Her chest rose and fell in devastation, but she would be resilient. She would do this. Fear was a weight constricting her chest. Fear of the unknown. Fear of making a mistake. Fear of losing all control and losing herself.

But her greatest fear of all was being powerless and unable to save the ones she loved. Not again. Not like when her parents died. She was damning herself forever to a glass cage, but it was the only choice she felt comfortable making. It was a choice formed out of love.

"Here is my proposal: I'll trade my soul for these paintings." Quinn waved at them. "And exact duplicates of each one. Additionally, I won't surrender my soul until I have lived a long vampiric life with no hidden consequences."

"You're a clever one." A petal on the mirror's face rose in a delighted smile. "But I cannot accept your trade. It's too long of time. I can give you six months."

Quinn sucked in a breath. "Agreed."

"So it shall be." As the last word left her mouth, the facade slipped from her body—all the flowers and puzzle pieces, leaving a girl with honey-brown hair and golden eyes. She walked over to Quinn and held out her hand .

Hesitantly, Quinn slid her fingers into the mirror's. When their skin met, a flush cascaded through her body and on her back, a carving etching into her skin.

"You have until the last leaf falls on the tree," the mirror said with a nod.

Quinn sucked in a breath and rolled her shoulders back. This was a worry for another time. But now she needed to get to work.

She focused on her task and greeted the real paintings. Quickly, one by one, she popped them from their frames, placed them into a pile, and once all of them were out, she gently rolled them up together. Then she ripped a long piece of her petticoat and tied the paintings to her leg, hiding them under the pouf of her bustle and skirt.

When she was finished, out of mist and magic, she swirled duplicate matching canvases.

The fake paintings she took from the frames and rolled together as well, but she kept them in her hand.

"Time to go, my Quinnevere," Blood said. "Make sure you keep your necklace on at all times. It will protect you against mirror magic from now on." She smiled and ran a finger through Quinn's hair. "For your sacrifice, this is a gift I will give to you."

"Thank you." Quinn hugged the mirror. "I will miss you."

"And I you."

Quinn pulled away, and with one final glance, she whispered goodbye before stepping back out of the mirror.

Her tattoo vanished from her arm and her back, and she was met with a seething monster.