Gypsy Freak

by Cunning, Kristy

  Ian’s canines extend, and his lips curl back to make them even bigger, as he growls at Emit’s wolf. My attention doesn’t stray again.

  The large, dark, beautiful wolf that is Emit just stands there, not making any move at first.

  The second Ian lunges, the crowd scatters to the sides, because Emit moves quickly, slamming into the gray wolf before Ian even lands.

  The dirt sprays into the air, and Ian flops around before leaping back up. The air is filled with snarls, the sound of gnashing teeth, and yelps of pain as the two tumble all over each other, snapping hard and moving too fast for me to see what’s really going on.

  I’m not sure how long it goes on, but I do know those yelps of pain never come from Emit. Ian is taking a brutal version of a wolf ass-kicking.

  The blood is everywhere, making me queasy, even though it’s so hypocritical to say, given the obvious.

  Now, from the pieces of their conversations around me, I’ve gathered they were planning to bury Emit alive and leave him to rot for all eternity, and I was collateral damage. It makes me feel less inclined to worry as much, but they also make it sound like he forgives his wolves of everything, and I may have really made him hate me.

  The battle ends when Ian can’t push himself back up, even as Emit stands easily.

  “Damn pups see him absent from the fights and assume he’s too weak to show up. Fools,” one of the men below mutters as Ian whimpers and grudgingly exposes his neck.

  I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen, but judging by the shock in the reactions and audible breaths all throughout the crowd, no one even considered Emit latching onto that throat and ripping into it.

  But…that’s what happens.

  He turns, and all the wolves, even the older, desensitized group below us, rustle restlessly, and the ones below us even dart to bow, eyes on the ground.

  A wave of wolves drop to do the same, like they’re looking to the oldest to show them what to do next in a situation they haven’t faced before.

  No one makes a sound as they continue to bow before him.

  Emit shifts so effortlessly back to skin, standing to his full, intimidating height, as he wipes the blood from his mouth and beard.

  “I think we’ve forgotten that my orders aren’t optional. If someone has my protection, no sane wolf touches them,” he says as he looks up at me like he’s caught a whiff of my scent.

  His gaze moves before I can really be certain if he was actually staring at me.

  “I put down the rabid,” he goes on. “Killing me is one thing. Torturing me is slightly more offensive,” he goes on in an idle tone that makes some visibly shudder, as though they’d considered being here tonight too and hope he doesn’t realize it.

  Or they’re just pissing-themselves scared.

  “Stepping on my word and involving an outsider—who is under my protection—in wolf vendettas to spit in my face?” Emit goes on as though he’s asking a rhetorical question.

  Arion reappears at our side, his lips curved in a devilish grin that draws a narrowed look from Damien.

  “Well, this just got a lot more interesting,” Arion says as he props up on a tree like he’s pleased with the world and all is right.

  Vance’s grip tightens on me as he pulls me slightly away from Arion, whose gaze has moved to me.

  I pretend not to notice as I stare at Emit, who gives me a subtle nod, as if to say, “We’ll be speaking soon.”

  “Light it up,” Emit says to someone, and exploding bottles of fire are launched at the barn by ten or so different men dressed in tactical gear.

  The fire burns hot and fast behind Emit, as he towers over most everyone, and stares at them all a minute longer.

  “Make sure to tell the wolves who couldn’t make it out tonight,” he adds before he walks away.

  Damien is missing when I turn back around.

  Chapter 28

  EMIT

  “Not now. I have something really important to do,” I tell Damien.

  “More wolves to kill that you wouldn’t normally kill?” he drawls as he strolls in.

  “I already dealt with Vance’s inquisition on the matter last night. I don’t have to deal with yours tonight,” I tell him.

  “You wouldn’t see me last night because you were busy then too,” he goes on, glancing around as he sniffs the air.

  There’s too much wolf scent in here with all the betas who’ve been coming in and out all day, dropping off their gifts to the alpha today, reminding me who’s loyal and whatever. He won’t even smell the basket of oranges in the very next room.

  I’ve spent the day staring at a computer until my eyes blurred.

  I look over a few of the pages I printed out, discreetly keeping them out of his view.

  “I want to know what really happened,” he tells me as he takes a seat and stares over at me.

  “What do you mean?” I ask absently.

  “Why did you, the alpha who spares as many wolves as possible and deals with the occasional mutinies, kill Ian and the rest of those wolves?”

  “Wolf got unleashed,” I say like I’m explaining myself. “There were too many of my commands getting broken—”

  “Feed that bullshit to Vance or Arion, since they lap it up. But I want to know what part Violet truly played in all that,” he tells me, drawing my full, confused attention at last.

  He stares at me like he knows something, and I sit up a little taller. He notices the change and a knowing gleam crosses his eyes. But how much does he know?

  “What do you think you know?” I ask him, deciding to lead him.

  “There’s something to know, so that means you know too,” he says vaguely. “You start.”

  “No, you start,” I volley.

  He leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Violet told me she couldn’t die before I passed out after…well, after I popped a cork,” he explains, a sour expression on his face.

  “And?” I prompt.

  His eyes narrow. “And? And?! I say she can’t die, and you say and? Isn’t it obvious? A woman who can’t die shows up here, in our town, somehow raises Arion, but conveniently Arion keeps her from talking about it. We all go a little crazy trying to get close to inspect her, and end up being in bed with her.”

  “I was in a casket with her—certainly not the same as a bed,” I point out.

  “The point is, Arion has been pushing her on us, and though he’s crazy, we still should have seen it. Arion’s never once strayed from Idun. Now, she’s with you and you killed all those wolves like you’re some sort of true alpha again. The innocent Violet, who should be traumatized, shows up at the sight of the melee in no shoes. No jacket. No—”

  “Get to the point and quit trying to make it in the abstract,” I grind out.

  “She’s Idun,” he says with no more preamble. “That bitch found a way to die, and she’s come back as—”

  “She’s not Idun,” I say dismissively, deciding we’re certainly not on the same track.

  “Yes, she is. There’s no other way she could have intricately woven herself into our lives in the maddening way she has—”

  “She’s not Idun,” I say again.

  “You didn’t see that ludicrous show she and Arion put on in front of me—the one where she pretends not to know about Idun right after having sex with me and giving it away.”

  “She’s not Idun,” I argue…again.

  “Then how did she live through sex with me?”

  “Because she can’t die,” I say like that part is obvious.

  “Like Idun,” he growls. “Only the Neopry line can do that.”

  “Not like Idun,” I say as I lift the stack of papers.

  “You really think Idun isn’t capable of—”

  “I don’t know or care what Idun is capable of. All I know is that without a doubt, January Violet Carmine is not Idun.”

  “How do you know this?” he asks as I stand. “We should check her hidden orchard for apples to go al
ong with those oranges.”

  My lips twitch. “Funny you should mention that…”

  I get up, stepping through the door, gesturing for him to stay, and I hurry through the house, past the omegas who are playing some video game in their old room, and head to where Violet is lounging in the room behind theirs, not unpacking yet.

  Her eyes find mine, and she stands quickly.

  “They said you wanted me to bring some clothes and—”

  “Did you bring apples?” I muse as I prop up.

  “I brought a few. Mom said people always prefer Portocale oranges,” she tells me as she goes to grab a small box that’s wrapped.

  The smell of them is so subtle that the box almost snuffs it out completely.

  “Emit, we need to talk about what—”

  “We’re going to. I just need to get rid of Damien first,” I say as I glance around. “But you’re safe here, Violet. Wolves are easily amendable creatures with the right motivation. But now I see that times are a little more stressful on the young than on the old, and I’ve been lax.”

  She looks confused, but I really do need to get rid of Damien.

  “When I return, we’re going to have a long conversation about Portocale gypsies and the dark, tangled past we share with them.”

  She moves a little closer as she lowers herself to the bed, eyes a little wide.

  “It’s not going to be a fun story to tell, but—”

  A sharp pain shoots through my skull, dizzying me for a moment as I stumble a step. When the next searing pain hits, I try to warn her, but can’t.

  The last thing I hear is her screaming for the omegas as my neck breaks for the first time.

  Chapter 29

  DAMIEN

  Violet’s shrill scream has me standing and calmly moving through the house. She’s here? Why the hell didn’t he tell me she was here?

  My nose is clogged by all the wolf scents mucking the place up.

  Emit’s cry of pain has me blurring past the omegas as they scramble around, doing I don’t know what.

  Violet is on a bed, trying to help two of the omegas drag him up to it, as my eyes land on Emit’s solid white, vacant gaze.

  I help them drag him onto the bed, eyes narrowing on Violet, assessing her every panicked, frightened move.

  “What’s happening to him?” she shouts at me when a lash lands across Emit’s chest and he cries out in pain.

  “A Portocale gypsy just died. I’ll be down soon as well. Emit’s almost always first,” I say, wondering if she’s going to eventually slip and give herself away.

  Kudos to Idun for keeping this charade going this long. She hasn’t been this patient since she made us fall in love with four different women who all turned out to be her.

  “Doesn’t this last for like a week or something?” Violet asks, her gaze swinging over to mine with tears there, when Emit cries out again.

  Another lash lands on his chest.

  The emotion in her tone has me glancing at Emit, who seemed adamant she wasn’t Idun and got up to presumably show me proof…before hitting the ground.

  “Or something,” I say distractedly, sniffing the air and finding something vaguely familiar subtly tinging it, prompting me to look around.

  “If you’re just going to stand there like it’s no big deal, get out!” Violet shouts at me, as an omega rushes to her side, already dabbing Emit’s wounds with a wet cloth.

  “Emit gets petted when he’s suffering. I’ll be alone in my room,” I tell her, while on the hunt for this bizarrely familiar scent I simply can’t place.

  It’s driving me mad and forcing me to sniff around the room.

  “I’m starting to realize that’s more of a preference of yours,” Violet says a little harshly.

  I give her a cold smirk that she doesn’t notice, because she’s busy saying soothing things to Emit like he’s not catatonic and stuck in hell—dying every Portocale gypsy death and getting a lash of punishment at the end.

  How has Idun faked that Portocale blood? I don’t put anything past that bitch. Emit underestimates her.

  The next lash slices across his chest, and blood spills from the wound; however, I quickly get distracted.

  A medium sized box with a ribbon has been dropped, and a hint of green is peeking out when I track that scent to its origins.

  Holding it together to keep anything from spilling, I turn the box upright and peel the lid off. My eyes land on green apples, and forgotten memories flutter through my mind with that old gypsy song.

  My stomach twists with knots as I sniff the apples, lost to the memories as I take a small bite just to be sure.

  The smell is always subtle, but the tart bite that turns into the very familiar sweet taste…it was always an underappreciated treat.

  One thing is certain; these are definitely not Idun’s red apples.

  My gaze darts to Violet as she continues fussing over Emit, her touch soft and concerned. Idun couldn’t grow green apples…

  Turning my attention back to the delicacy I never expected to see again, I get a little queasy.

  It’s all a confusing mess, but it’s enough to piece together the puzzle Emit was trying to solve for me.

  “Are you really eating his apples right now? I brought those for him, and I don’t have many. Please stop. He may want them when he wakes up,” Violet says in a soft, broken tone as she helplessly sits at his side.

  I watch her as I put down the other apples, and she cuts her tear-streaked eyes away from me as she continues fussing over the wolf.

  Staring down at the green apple in my hand, I get a little sicker.

  I need to go buy some fucking roses. Right now.

  My gaze flicks back to Violet once more, and holds there, wondering how the fucking hell it’s possible.

  I start thinking back to the way those bodies were ripped apart…

  That wasn’t Emit’s wolf. Emit wasn’t covering for Idun. The Portocale blood is real? The oranges are real? The apples are real? But how?

  Impossible pieces begin to align, taking over my Idun conspiracy theory, as a new one surges forth.

  I walk out of the house, lifting my phone and taking another bite of the apple I stole.

  “Hello?”

  “Chris, this is Damien, and—”

  “Who?”

  I sigh, finding some of my curses more tedious than others during moments like this. “Check your notes. You work for me. The name Morpheous is a large part of your income.”

  I take another bite of the apple as the clicking of keys on a computer tell me he’s doing what I’ve asked.

  “Oh, right. The one no one remembers.”

  “I need you to find out all you can about Violet Carmine’s family tree on her—”

  “That I remember,” he says proudly. “But it dead ends. It doesn’t tie into the tree you wanted it to,” he goes on.

  “Yeah, well, I’m more interested in the tree on her father’s side now. Track it back as far as you possibly can,” I tell him as I glance over my shoulder.

  “O…kay. He a gypsy too?”

  “No. He’s not,” I say with certainty as I hang up. “But he may have gypsy blood in him,” I add to myself. “Which changes absolutely everything.”

  I dial the next number on my list, and a pleasant woman answers.

  “I’d like to buy every rose in your store,” I tell the woman who remains silent, as though she’s stunned. “And if you have any apologetic balloons, I’ll buy those too,” I tell her as I scrub a hand over my face. “Better make it every single flower in your store. I have a lot more to apologize for than I can say with just roses. I don’t want her as frigid with me as she is with Vance. Personally, I still think he’s the bigger ass out of the two of us, but I still should apologize properly.”

  “I’m sorry?” she says.

  “Yes. That’s what I want every single card to say,” I tell her.

  “This is all very confusing,” she says quietly, more
to herself than me.

  Staring at the partially eaten green apple in my hand, I tell her, “You have no idea.”

  Chapter 30

  ARION

  I watch as Damien flees Emit’s house like a thief in the night, glancing over his shoulder. He tucks something into his pocket that I can’t see or scent, due to the atrocious stench of wolf all over the damn place.

  After I’m certain he’s gone, I make my way to the kitchen window, where I spot Violet filling up a pan of water. My dark smile forms.

  She’s in Emit’s house, after I told the lovely thing to get closer to the wolf. She only pretends to fight me, while doing exactly as I ask her to.

  One can only assume she’s on board with my plan for us.

  “Don’t worry, sweet gypsy. You’ll do fine,” I tell the girl who looks dreadfully worried.

  Her eyes shut, and she lets a few tears drip down her face. No doubt her sensitive nature is struggling with the bloodshed she so recently faced. Even after being around Emit’s true monster, she’s here.

  The sweet girl loves the dark monsters.

  “You’ll do fine for as long as your mortal life allows,” I add, my smile only growing as I turn away, heading back into the shadows.

  I pause when I hear her speaking, and I quickly turn back around, wondering who in the hell she’s speaking to.

  “You’re missing a lot,” she says quietly…to absolutely no one.

  I get closer, peering inside, finding the kitchen utterly empty.

  “Don’t worry, Anna,” she goes on, only farther confounding me, since she’s talking to a dead ghost, who certainly no longer exists. “I’m going to make this right somehow.”

  Poor gypsy is still in denial about her best friend’s latest death. No wonder she’s not a basket of tears over the dreadful ghost.

  Grief is a mysterious and powerful thing indeed. Luckily for Emit, it also makes a woman vulnerable. I suppose that’s how Damien lucked his way into her body.

  Matters not how we get the girl, so long as we all get her and she becomes ours.

  Maybe Idun will finally regret her crimes against us when we select such a precious replacement and prove to her we don’t need her to be a unit.