Gypsy Freak

by Cunning, Kristy

  “For fuck’s sake, don’t make her keep talking,” Damien groans as he goes over to her with more familiarity than I like.

  She hated him. She hated him way too much. Why is she just standing there as he drapes an arm around her shoulders?

  “We’re off to my house so her dad doesn’t see her going on date with a vampire. Have fun tonight,” Damien says with a smirk as he steers her by me, bumping his shoulder against mine as he goes.

  “It’s not okay for you to just show up at my house,” I call out to him.

  “Sorry,” Violet blurts out, which of course makes me run a hand over my face when Damien starts laughing.

  My omegas actually fucking growl at me. At me.

  Never has that happened.

  I glare at all of them, and Fay whimpers before scurrying off. Then I turn and glance over at Damien as he explains to Violet that my comment was solely directed at him.

  Shaking my head, I go to my private office and pull out the Portocale family tree, trying to figure out what branch Violet’s family descended from.

  All I’ve been able to think about is ending one of the few curses that can end, especially now that I know Violet is clearly the perfect Portocale for that.

  But as the minutes tick by, I find myself unable to focus on anything other than what Damien said about her naïve plan to broker a true truce.

  Instead of staying put, the way I really need to, I decide to go find one of my tuxes and crash a vampire’s party.

  The second I exit and lock up my office, I head down the hallway, forging a plan to talk to Arion and tell Violet not to interfere. The last thing I need is to deal with Arion thinking Violet is my weakness, when she’s clearly more Vance’s, and certainly more Damien’s.

  I had no idea how obsessed he’d grown until tonight.

  However, the second I enter my bedroom, I find Ian sitting on the stool in front of my bed, and I pause.

  He swings an angry gaze up at me. “Last night was a failure, I know. But—”

  “Last night was little more than a slap in the face compared to what could have happened. We attacked them in their home. Vance could have punished all of you to punish me,” I bite out. “Leave it, Ian. Let me deal with this.”

  “Deal with it like you did a hundred years ago? Putting him underground for a century is a slap on the wrist.”

  “Based on what Vance told me last night, it may have been far worse than he actually deserved,” I grind out. “Arion woke during that time. It’s unsure how long he was awake, but he certainly lived awake and underground for long enough to try and claw his way out. He’s been severely punished.”

  He stands abruptly, a growl in his throat. “Far worse than he deserved?” he snaps. “You remember what he did to our people? He drained them and then killed them. He—”

  “He upheld a law I refused to abide by, but he stepped out of his place. Those wolves were going to be culled regardless,” I interrupt, my voice even as I advance on him.

  I’m two steps in front of him before he finally remembers his place and forces his eyes to lower.

  His jaw tics with the effort it takes.

  “He stepped out of line by making it personal. Vampires don’t get to cull the wolves. They don’t get to decide when, how, and where. I do. Van Helsings do. Wolf alphas do. But the law is still the law for a reason.”

  He jerks his face to the side, his fists forming and opening.

  “When there is no order, there is only chaos,” he finally says, answering the unspoken question.

  “Chaos from us in this era would equal an apocalypse none of you will survive. The immortal alphas will be left to start all over, and to be honest, none of us really want to do that. So there are laws. There is order. Deal with it. With the new information, I declare that Arion has been sufficiently punished, and no farther attacks will be plotted, threatened, or even considered.”

  He doesn’t speak. Instead, he stalks out, angry as always. Personally, I grew bored with staying angry centuries ago. I prefer to stay blitzed out of my mind, but right now is not the time.

  All I want right now is to ensure Arion isn’t planning his own form of revenge, restarting the vicious, never-ending circle.

  And to make sure a little gypsy doesn’t land on the wrong side of him when it sounds like she’s choosing a side that isn’t his.

  Chapter 13

  VIOLET

  The problem with intentions and gypsies is that we don’t always follow through, and the closer it gets to seven, the more nervous I feel about my little speech I’ve prepared.

  It honestly sounds really, really lame. And stupid. I can picture Arion laughing in my face before slitting my throat.

  Then what? My usual plan of action is to kill whatever just killed me, but I can’t kill a man who can reincarnate, find me, and try to kill me again. If he can even die. I’m not sure on what happens just yet, but I do know they’re all immortal to some relative extent. I’m undying, so I’m not sure what that means for me…

  Damien is eating one of the last of his oranges as he waits with me, and I ask the question that’s been irking me.

  “Is Vance avoiding me? Is he weirded out with what happened between us? We didn’t speak when he drove me home, and he hasn’t called since I ignored that one call because I was with Dad.”

  He pauses, stopping the orange at his lips, as he arches an eyebrow at me.

  “I’m trying to be your dirty, kinky rebound from the boring, drab Van Helsing. I’m not trying to be your gay best friend. My answer is that he’s not worth it, but I am,” he says with a completely serious expression.

  Shaking my head, I roll my eyes.

  “Have you seen me?” he asks incredulously. “I get that the wolves want an alpha wolf, but surely you have better taste,” he adds, glancing over at the mirror and back at me.

  “You do realize how vain you seem when you can’t help but glance over at a mirror every two seconds to appreciate how good you look?” I ask dryly.

  Okay, to be fair, he’s definitely the most gorgeous man alive, but it is so annoying when he glances at the mirror like he—

  “Part of my curse,” he answers as he looks back down.

  I don’t even bother asking questions, and apparently that works, since he starts giving answers without being prompted.

  “My first sacrifice for immortality was the thing I found most important. That, of course, was my fame. I had no idea I was making the decision for the entire family,” he goes on. “First-borns apparently had that power during the ceremony.”

  “There was a ceremony to make you immortal?” I ask, sitting up.

  He continues staring at the peel of the orange in his hand.

  “Step one,” he answers absently. “It wasn’t as easy of a step as I thought it was. Especially when my family received the same curse. Now, after a few weeks of not seeing us, mortals forget we even exist. Even the little poser immortals who don’t age but still die a true death…”

  He lets his words trail off for a second.

  “So it really is just the alpha immortals who can’t truly die who remember you,” I say as a small pang starts in my chest.

  “Unless they’re in my presence fairly regularly, anyone not of alpha blood forgets me,” he says, agreeing. “Even you’ll forget me if I let you go more than a week without seeing me, since I’m so new to you,” he goes on, eating another bite.

  “Dorian somehow gave up something else, I’m assuming. Since he’s a bastard,” I continue, leaning in as I grow more intrigued.

  “He was the true first-born, ousted only by title and name,” he adds quietly. “It was a loophole. He shouldn’t have even been immortal. Leave it to that cockroach to take everything from me. Father doesn’t even claim me as the first-born anymore, but Dorian can’t take the Morpheous name for fear of fading into nothing like the rest of us. He added his own curse to our family legacy as the unofficial first-born.”

  He glances at th
e mirror across from us, what little bit is left of it, and just stares.

  “To this day, unless I’m unconscious, I can’t go more than a few hours without checking my reflection, or I forget who I used to be. I forget how it used to be. Before we tried to make it better and ended up destroying it instead. It’s dangerous when I allow that to happen, and it’s a slow road to remembering again afterwards.”

  Cocky, creepy, annoyingly obtuse…all those things usually describe Damien. Not vulnerable.

  “Sorry. Now I feel like a jerk for the mirror comment.”

  He gives a small grin. “I’m the only one in my family who suffers the worst of the curses. No sexual pleasure for a being forged from sexual deviance. Even watching doesn’t bring the pleasure it used to.”

  The first part I already knew, but the second part is what I almost ask about, until a horn blows just outside.

  “That would be Shera. Arion would kick down my doors and walk on in uninvited,” he says, clearing his throat and downing the rest of his drink.

  “I thought vampires had to be invited in,” I say uneasily as the horn blares again.

  He gives another sad smile as he swirls his drink in his hand. “There was a time when Arion was invited in. Just because the invitation has been rescinded, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t still have the ability to walk in.” His eyes find mine when the horn blares again. “Remember that.”

  When the horn blows this time, I stand, and I hesitate. “You probably have a lot of suits and stuff, right?”

  He gives me a dry look. “I’m not coming to Arion’s party. Trust me when I say that would be in poor taste, considering what he did to my people.”

  “What did he do? I know he killed them, but why? No one ever just volunteers the why.”

  “Because the why never really matters at the end of the day. It’s the what that determines our future history.”

  “I killed four vampires, and all of you asked me why. It only seems fair to return the favor.”

  He pauses, his eyes flicking over to mine. “All of us?”

  Just as I try to answer, a fog rolls into my mind, and I can’t recall what I was going to say.

  The horn blows once again.

  “Shera already hates me because I’m apparently judgmental. Since his beta is picking me up, maybe that means this isn’t actually a date. That would help me—”

  When someone starts banging on the front door and ringing the doorbell incessantly, I sigh. “If you come, please make sure I’m not dinner.”

  “Arion won’t harm you. If anything, he needs you to really like him for whatever angle it is he’s working on us,” he says as he looks away again.

  Why do I feel bad about leaving him behind?

  I liked it better when I just wanted to key his car to feel good.

  He’s like Anna. Once they’re in your life, you just adapt to their creepy ways and start to find the weird charm in them. Damn him for making me miss her, and damn him for worming his way into the part of my mind that makes me worry about him.

  “Are you going to be okay?” I ask when the knocking gets really obnoxious.

  He groans.

  “Only if you make her stop before I have to kill her and really piss Arion off.”

  With that, I remember Damien is also a monster, and I turn and head off with the assurance he’s a big boy who can take care of himself, even when he looks sad, miserable, and a little lonely.

  He’s the only one without anyone else ever in his house, and this house is just too big to be so empty.

  I check my phone to see if Vance has said anything else to my lame text where I tried to start a conversation, and he sent a one-word response.

  I’ve never had a one-night stand, but I think that’s what we did. I don’t want to make it weird, so I say nothing else as I open the door to a very annoyed Shera.

  She looks over me once and rolls her eyes. “You smell like a damn wolf.”

  Before I can comment, she’s suddenly hugging me. Hugging. Me.

  She starts rubbing up and down and walking around me in a circle. I remain rigid.

  “What’re you doing?” I ask her, swallowing thickly when she shakes her breasts against my back, still hugging me close.

  “Getting rid of the wolf smell so that you don’t get attacked by vampires, who are still angry about last night’s little scuffle. I don’t need my life to be harder tonight. Arion is enough work. And my scent is a lot stronger than whatever little pups you were playing with today.”

  “They’re really nice girls who dressed me up.”

  “And rudely left their wolf scent all over you before you go to a vampire party,” she gripes as she steps back and sniffs me. She wrinkles her nose.

  “It’ll do until Arion can put his even stronger scent on you.”

  I’m starting to think everyone thinks I stink after I leave a house.

  “What about Damien’s scent? He’s alpha too. Will it also offend?” I ask dryly.

  “No one ever remembers his scent, so it’s a nonissue,” she says dismissively as she turns and walks out.

  I glance back one last time to see Damien staring at me from the second floor window. He’s gone in the next blink, but I’m sure he’s still there. I also think he prefers for me not to know when he’s watching.

  I guess all monsters have their issues. He lacks boundaries, and I can’t be allowed to panic. In the grand scheme of things, I still haven’t met anyone who scares me as much as I scare myself.

  Chapter 14

  VIOLET

  I have no idea if vampires are opening the doors for me when I walk into the back entrance behind Shera. They could be any variety of monsters for all I know. It’s doubtful they’ll be any of the monsters I sort of know of, but you get the idea.

  I’m nervous and fidgety and worried about wolf scent, since everyone keeps sniffing me when I walk by them. I stutter a step in my Converses that are hidden by the pooling fabric of the dress. A loud, obnoxious squeak sounds from the bottom of my shoe, hitting the tile just wrong to draw even more attention to me.

  But my eyes are fixed on the large fountains that lead into this giant ballroom. The streams of red are shooting over us, the perfect momentum propelling the liquid without a single drop spraying to waste.

  The streams cross over each other in a lacing pattern without ever actually touching, but giving the illusion they are when you walk under them…like I’m doing.

  And, I’m almost positive those fountains are streaming blood to each other, and dribbling down into large, randomly-shaped pools that turn into a piece of the room. Bridges are here and there, giving dry passage over the streams on the ground.

  The one thing I hate to see is blood, and I came to a vampire party without even considering it might be the theme to celebrate their freshly risen alpha, who has to still be really thirsty.

  Sometimes I can’t tell if I’m really dumb or just too damn stupid to live. Then I remember I can’t die, so option number one it is.

  A woman bumps into me, snarling on her way by, and turns and walks away like I’m scum on her shoe. So werewolf women are really nice, and vampire women are not so much.

  Shera is suddenly at my side, tapping her foot impatiently. “If you miss his entrance, I’ll never hear the end of it. Don’t make me carry you. It’ll just look utterly ridiculous, and neither of us will feel pretty for the rest of the night.”

  I nod like that’s acceptable, mostly because staring at her is keeping my mind off the blood fountains people are holding wine glasses under to fill them up. I just can’t. It gives new meaning to “open-bar.”

  “I’m not adjusting this quickly,” I tell her as I start following her, staring at the back of her head when she turns around and speeds up.

  “How unfortunate,” is her tart reply. “It’s only just beginning. You’ve barely gotten a toe wet,” she adds over her shoulder, actually smirking. “Sing, gypsies,” she says in a singsong voice.

 
; I don’t say anything, because I didn’t think she knew I was a true gypsy.

  I have no idea if that memory is just gone, or if she’s goading me into talking.

  Then I remember something I’d truly forgotten, just as a long rope starts spinning, and everyone starts chanting Arion’s name. He sang that song to me like it held all the keys to my puzzles. A silly little song that makes zero sense.

  A curtain attached to the end of that spinning rope drops, and firework-like pyrotechnics explode from a raised stage. People clear a path for Shera as she guides me toward the front.

  “There’s Isiah. Go stand with him,” she says, pointing at the man I think is her boyfriend, or just someone she likes to dance with and kiss.

  He barely looks over at me before returning his attention to the stage, where smoke is rolling in. The throngs of people start closing in on me before I can reach Isiah, everyone getting closer to the stage.

  A bit of panic rises in me when I feel trapped, everyone pressing in so fast that I can’t even see a face—just flesh and fabric and little speckling dots of color. My body is jolted around and my teeth rattle.

  In the next instant, bodies are violently yanked off me, and Shera is in my face, pulling me out of the fray. People practically dive out of her way instead of stepping on her.

  Damn it. Now I have to hate her because that’s Anna’s rules. Any time you envy a girl, it’s crucial you hate her.

  I have to stop thinking about Anna or I’m going to finally have that cry I’ve been denied by everyone.

  The crackling before dark, ominous, dramatic music starts playing draws my eyes back to the stage as Shera stays at my side, babysitting me now.

  Isiah is gone, which only seems to annoy her more as she huffs out an angry breath.

  A casket comes rolling out, and I roll my eyes at the theatrical creepy flickering lights that accompany it. Violinists drop down from thorny vines that seem to almost be alive, and blood drips from their lips as they play their music in white, blood-spattered jumpsuits designed to look like straitjackets, but with arms that can still move…