Home > Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(10)

Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(10)
Author: Kristy Cunning

“You watched me have sex. Consider that your damn lunch, because that’s far more than you’ll ever see again unless you want to get stabbed.”

“I already explained that I thought—”

“What will it take to get you to go away?” she asks again, feigning patience.

“Right now there’s a vampire I really don’t trust, who is already entirely too fascinated and enthralled by you. Remember how wise it would be to have powerful monsters as allies right now, Violet.”

“Now you’re threatening me?” she asks incredulously.

“Hell no,” I say on an exasperated groan. “I’m extending friendship. It seems you keep an open mind with friends, and I really, really enjoy an open mind.”

“So you want friendship after watching me have sex, because you think that will somehow lead to sex with us as well, and you’re extorting me while my father is inside?” she hisses.

She makes this sound like a bad thing…which forces me to pause…for half a second.

“Sex is…much different with me, given the conversation we had…that you forgot…that I made you remember earlier.”

She blinks, seeming confused for a second, and then narrows her eyes. “That’s not an answer to my question.”

“Yes.” I decide to risk it.

“You do realize you are the creepiest person I’ve ever met?” she asks instead of commenting on our current conversation.

“You realize you’re Violent Violet. After all, you keyed my car. We all have our faults,” I point out.

“Don’t ever call me that again.”

She glares at me, but when we hear footsteps approaching from the other side of the door, she gestures wildly at me.

“Just go,” she says in a slight panic.

“Say you’ll leave a window open for me.”

“What?” she whisper-yells.

“Say you’ll leave a window open, and I promise to only watch the non-creepy things.”

“It’s all creepy,” she bites out just as the door knob jiggles, causing her eyes to widen. “I’ll leave a window open,” she quickly agrees.

My smile broadens as I disappear, and her eyes stay glaring at the spot where I was as I step closer, watching as the door opens.

The balding man pokes his head out, frowning as he looks around. “Who you talking to, Violet?” her dad asks.

“Possibly the most infuriating person ever. But he’s gone.”

My own eyes widen when I realize she’s still in my jacket—that has my new mirror and my orange.

Obviously, that means I have no choice but to follow them inside and wait for a chance to retrieve it. Surely she knows that, because she takes a second to shut the door behind her when they go back in, and I slip right inside.

“You had any problems out here?” her dad asks, eyeing the door a few times, as Violet goes back to the tea.

“You keep asking that, and I keep telling you everything is fine. Are you having problems, Dad?” she asks him, sitting down and sipping her tea, still wearing my jacket that does not go well with the toga.

“Your mom may have left this place to you for reasons unbeknownst to me, but she died out here, nonetheless,” he goes on, sighing heavily as he takes a seat.

I take a seat next to Violet, careful not to brush against her and startle her. He’s apparently too callous with his words, because she looks down.

“I can’t find Mom’s death spot, so I don’t know if the cult got inside the town lines or not. And even though I’ve been told it was them—”

“Of course it was them. Who else could it be?” he asks, interrupting her.

Violet gives a small shrug as she covers her yawn with her hand.

“I’ve decided it’s not my place to go searching for killers. But I heard about a Portocale Council—”

“Who told you about them?” he asks, sounding a little angry.

I perk right up to listen better, because why on earth would that council be a bad thing for a Portocale?

“So you know about them?” Violet asks him instead.

I see him sink in his chair, deflating a little. Lips pursing, I almost decide to leave. I can’t learn any big secrets this way, or she’ll really hate me.

However, I decide to stick around in case there’s an issue we should be aware of. At least that’s the excuse I use to justify the decision in my head to ready my argument, in the event I get caught.

Her phone rings, but she silences it and pushes it aside, which is the same as pushing it right in front of me. I glance down, smirking when I see Vance’s name. Doesn’t he know to wait the standard three days before calling about another date?

He just looks needy now.

“Should you get that?” her father asks, seeming dodgy and suspicious.

I wonder if he knows about us…

“It can wait. I’m sure he’s calling to warn me about something that has already been sort of resolved.”

Ah, she’s talking about me. To her father. I knew she secretly liked me. Women these days only tell their fathers about the men they’re seriously considering, after all.

I grin at her, not that she notices, because she clearly and truly can’t see me anymore. Which means…Arion really does have someone who helped her see me.




My smile falls, and my jaw grinds, because that’s certainly not good. Tempted to give this information to Vance, I glance around, wondering if I could quietly make it up those creaky stairs without giving myself away.

“You said Mom told you the cult can’t cross town lines?” Violet asks him, circling back, when he never really answers her other question.

She gives up too easily on her quest for answers, as though she’s been conditioned to do so. Marta was certainly a tricky gypsy, and either she was secretly as crazy as Martin, or she had some masterminded plan of some sort.

I’m going with batshit crazy. The woman chased things with a broom down the street on occasion. Not even I could ever see what she was after.

“That’s what Marta said. She was usually right about those things, so I believed her. She even started using her Portocale name again, which I thought was stupid. But we both know your mother was right more than she was wrong.”

I almost verbally agree with him about the stupid decision to use her true name, which would probably cause a bit of hysteria. Since, you know, I’m invisible and this guy is wary of something as simple as mortal gypsy magic.

“I’m going to use your shower. It’s been a long day,” he says abruptly as he stands. “I’ll inspect the home and find out what repairs need to be done tomorrow, and I’ll also get started on that wall in your bedroom.”

She gives a tight nod, still sipping her tea, and when he starts up the stairs, she turns toward me.

“You’re such a dick,” she says, her eyes on my chin.

“You can see,” I say accusingly when I hear the upstairs door shut.

“No. I can’t. But I can feel you when you’re sitting that close. It feels like electrical static humming all over me.”

I let myself appear, and her eyes lift to meet mine.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” I say on a weary breath. “Gypsy women tend to be confusing and manipulative.”

“Gypsy women?” she asks on an incredulous breath like I’ve said something ironic or insane.

Not sure which.

My phone buzzes in my jacket pocket, and she pulls it out for me, rolling her eyes as she hands it to me, putting our disagreement on pause.

I glance down at the image sent from Vance. Then I get a little queasy.

“What’s that?” she asks, invading my privacy a little when she leans over and looks at the picture without so much as even asking.

And she says I have no boundaries. Little rude to be so hypocritical.

“That would be the coffin Arion was trapped in. It was made with the blood, sweat, silver, and tears of a Van Helsing, and no ordinary monster could possibly have broken free. However, Arion did, because he had a little help.”

I don’t mention her part in it, because I’m still not sure what part she really played, and at current, neither does she.

“Arion’s the big bad vampire,” she states like she’s working a quiz.

The seals were burned through, but it’s the images of the inside of the coffin that are making me queasy. Claws have scored every surface on the inside.

“He awoke early,” I say under my breath, bile rising to my throat.


Before I can answer, a series of very haunting howls erupt in the air, and right behind them, one monstrous, feral, enraged howl rattles the ground and the dishes.

“Shit,” I say quickly as I dart to the back door.

Violet stumbles over her toga when she follows, and I catch her before she falls off the back stoop. Damn gypsy and her shitty threading.

The howls ignite again, and I glance up to see the almost full moon. It’s a bad night to be a vampire. Emit’s almost at his strongest and most deranged. Tomorrow night he’ll be all beast.

“What’s going on?” she asks as shutters drop rapidly on all the homes around.

Staring out at the road, hearing the thunder of wolves as they pound the pavement somewhere ahead of us, I heave out a breath.

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