Gypsy Freak Page 5

  With numb movements, I manage to move close enough to lift the envelope that I struggle to open with my shaky hands. The second I manage to pull out the letter concealed inside, I feel the tears water before the words start to blur.

  Secretive Violet,

  I’ll regret never earning all your secrets before I had to go. Hopefully, if all goes according to plan, you’ll have had a sensational night, and someone will be there with you to cushion this blow. Because more than anything, I don’t want to feel as though I’ve left you alone.

  I stop reading to angrily bat away the tears. I was gullible enough to believe in miracles, and I stayed with Vance while she died alone, too prideful to let me be here with her. No matter if it’s the one thing I asked her for in return.

  I needed this closure, and she left me with a cheap goodbye letter instead. My mother did the same thing in the form of a legal will.

  “Damn you,” I say on a huff as I stand, gathering my breath and shaking my head as I continue to read on.

  You’re likely very angry with me, and I don’t blame you. You never really asked me for anything at all but this. However, you don’t need to suffer to feel closure. You just need to hear the truth. I wish I could give you that, but we both know I can’t.

  Unfortunately, the big bad Van Helsing will have to serve as a consolation prize.

  I roll my eyes, grinding my jaw as I glance over the next words.

  “We so had a three-way. I say this with confidence because we both know you like sex just as much as any other woman. But like all your anger, you bottle it up and give people what they need instead of taking what you want.

  If you’re really a vampire-slaying, undying, threading savant, then it doesn’t even matter that you’re horrible at fashion. You’re still possibly the most incredibly interesting person I’ve ever known. I hate you for that, because it makes me envy you.

  I’ve only ever envied one other woman, and I hated her unreasonably. But you…I hate you in the best possible way, because I’ve never wanted to be anyone so much in all my life. And you’ve given me a day.

  It’s a gift I can never possibly repay, so instead, I hope you take a minute to do things just for you. No matter the consequences. No matter the cost. Do things just because it makes you happy, and to hell with everyone else for just a minute.

  Then maybe, just perhaps, I can feel like I’ve given you the only thing I had that was better than you. Because you’re a soft bitch like that, just so you know.

  Deuces, my favorite-ever person.

  Hate you always and forever,

  Anna.

  PS—when in doubt, ask “What would Anna do?”

  I crumple the paper in my hand as I struggle to catch my breath and swallow back the emotion. I pull it back to throw it in the fire, and change directions at the last second, hitting the wall with it instead, as I hiccup out a sob.

  Whispering to nothing, I laugh a little bitterly as I let my head thump back against the wall, sitting on the floor. “I hate you too.”

  Something thumps overhead, and I bounce to my feet as my heartbeat thuds in my chest. I didn’t lock those windows yet.

  Batting away my tears, I silently chant the salt dance song as the remains of Anna skitter across the floor, slipping into the metallic red urn she picked out.

  All the while, I carefully slip up the stairs, reaching for the shotgun I have there. When my fingers just brush the wall over and over, I finally dart a glance over, finding my shotgun gone.

  A door swings open from the second floor, and I look up to see a familiar face and a knowing, unimpressed look.

  “I’ve spent the day patching that hole in the roof, and decided to retire the shotgun, since your idea of handling that situation was to duct-tape a sheet of plastic over it.”

  “It kept out the snow,” I say as if on autopilot, blinking at my father standing before me like it’s perfectly normal and we see each other daily.

  He puts his hands on his hips and shakes his head in disapproval. “Your house was like a block of ice. It took me hours just to get through the snow in town, or I’d have been here last night. Are you staying in a hotel or something?”

  I blink again, still trying to process.

  “No. I was…at a friend’s house for most of the evening. I’m sorry, but did I know you were coming?” I ask him, confused.

  “No, but I figured I’d come inspect your new home, since you missed yesterday’s call. Then realized I needed to patch the hole before inspecting the home,” he goes on. “That wall in the bedroom is going to take me a day or two to fully repair, and then I’ll have to paint the room. Did it come like that?”

  I think that’s more words than he’s used in our past three conversations combined.

  “Hi, Dad,” I finally say, laughing under my breath.

  His look softens, and he clears his throat. “Hey, kid. You don’t look so hot.”

  “A friend of mine just sort of…left town,” I tell him, smiling tightly.

  He nods like he gets it, and we both just stand awkwardly.

  “So…I see you’re still trying to make your own clothes,” he finally says, and I glance down, reminded I’m inconveniently wearing my walk-of-shame outfit in front of my father—who’ve I’ve not seen in at least eight months—and am in desperate need of a post-sex shower. “Shouldn’t you have worn a jacket?” he adds.

  “I left it in the car,” I answer without missing a beat. “Do you want tea?” I go on, making this even more awkward.

  Normally, I’d love to have a visit from my father. Any other single day of the year.

  This day? Not so much.

  “Tea works,” he tells me, and I turn and start back down the stairs in Vance Van Helsing’s sheet-turned-terrible-toga to make my father tea.

  I hope he doesn’t know I’ve been naked in a bed with two men today, one of whom I’ve mauled, and well…two of whom I’ve mauled in different ways. I can currently only really remember the one because a vampire alpha made me forget…

  I blame Anna for this.

  Now my heart hurts, and I can’t cry in front of him, so I keep my back turned to focus on the tea and try my best not to think about all my shit-storm gypsy stuff when we reach the kitchen.

  “Smells like you’ve been brewing more than tea in here,” he states with a hint of dissatisfaction.

  “I was trying to help out a friend,” I tell him.

  “Why’d you miss Tuesday’s call?”

  “What day is it?” Trying to talk to him and remember what I’m doing is getting a little hard to do, since my mind isn’t fully here as it is.

  “Wednesday,” he says slowly, as if he’s worried about me.

  I feel like I’ve missed a day. Maybe two?

  “You called about that gypsy song, but I reminded you about Tuesday’s call because I was busy. Why’d you ask about the song?”

  “What song?” I ask, really confused right now.

  He scrubs a hand over his face. “Never mind. Do you need help with the tea?”

  “No, I’ve got—”

  “I’ll be back in a second. I have a call to take,” he says, looking down at his phone before he abruptly walks off.

  Annnnd now it feels normal again. Fortunately, I really need normal right now, because a second alone would be great.

  Tugging the toga tighter into place, I abandon the tea and pull on my boots over my cold, damp feet. Then I stalk right to Damien’s beautiful vehicle, swing open the doors, grab the keys, and glare.

  Anna wanted me to do something just for me? To hell with everyone else and the consequences? Right now, I could seriously use some me-time in a really satisfying way.

  Chapter 7

  DAMIEN

  “You were the one who baited me into being seduced by her,” I argue, gesturing at him.

  “Are we still talking about Violet or about another girl?” Vance drawls, pretending to ‘trip’ over a stool that he actually punts into the only re
maining mirror in my bedroom.

  “These mirrors provided a spectacular view earlier. She either once saw me and is now faking it, since she’s clearly a crafty gypsy, or Arion has someone who has the ability to make people see through my illusions. Which sounds more likely?” I reasonably point out.

  “She will hear you,” he says in a chastising tone.

  “For fuck’s sake, she stole my car ages ago.”

  He glances out the window, his lips twitching as he looks down.

  “Well, that means she’s racing home to lock her windows and doors, possibly nail the things shut,” he quips.

  I hesitate, wondering if I should end this maddening argument when I’m so close to winning, or if I should hurry over there before it’s too late to save myself a window or two.

  I point a finger at him. “This isn’t over,” I warn as I start walking out. “I’m right. You’re the one who fucked up this time, and I’m not the one in the wrong. For once in our fucking lives, I’m right and you’re positively wrong, and there’s no real argument to the contrary.”

  He narrows his eyes. “If you think she’s deliberately fucking with us, why are you in a hurry to get over there?”

  I grin. “Because I positively love that in a woman.”

  I turn and hurry out, and I decide to steal one of his cars—but the damn horns start blaring, and alarms start wailing, so I end up cursing and flipping him off when I see his silhouette above.

  “Get the fuck out of my house before I get back, or you’ll be in breach of contract,” I call up to him.

  Then I drape myself in illusion and sprint to Violet’s. My run turns into a slow jog, as I eye the work truck in her driveway with the Louisiana plate.

  My brow furrows when I glance over at my vehicle, and I groan when I see all the streaks of paint missing down the sides of it. She keyed my fucking car?

  I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t anticipate that.

  Scrubbing a hand over my jaw, I turn and walk toward one window, and pause when I see a short, stocky, slightly balding, middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard to match the color of what very little hair he has left.

  Violet is sitting across from him, still—for whatever reason—wearing Vance’s sheet, and drinking what appears to be tea.

  Sure.

  It…makes no sense at all.

  Sighing, I turn and start climbing up the side of her house, wondering if she’s thought about the attic’s non-working bathroom window, but find an easier-to-access unlocked window on the second floor.

  However, when I reach my hand in, it feels like a jolt of electricity shocks me. Wrenching my hand back, I barely bloody stop myself from falling, and I stare in disbelief at the perplexing enigma. Nothing seems to be the cause of whatever that was.

  Deciding it was a fluke, I shove my hand into the window again, only to be zapped even harder.

  Pain is usually easy to tolerate, but the jolt of this has me reflexively leaping back, and I…fall. Flat on my damn back.

  A burst of air is forced out of my lungs, and I groan for a second as the back door opens in front of where I’ve landed.

  Toga Violet just stares down at me like she’s not even surprised to find me wallowing on the cold snow outside her door.

  “Now is really, really not a good—”

  “Violet, who’s here?” the man asks from somewhere behind her.

  “Someone picking up a vehicle I borrowed, Dad,” she says with a straight face, arching an eyebrow as if to challenge me.

  “Your dad is here? I always wondered what kind of man bedded a fireball, bitter little thing like Marta. Can I meet him?” I ask with a grin. “Invite me in. Introduce—”

  She slams the door in my face, and my smile falls. That was rude. Maybe the comment about her mom was a bit too much.

  I knock on the door, and she immediately opens it, stepping out and pushing me back, while shutting the door behind her.

  “What will it take to make you go away right now?” she hisses, shivering in the cold with nothing on but her toga and some ugly shoes.

  Pulling off my jacket, I answer her. “We never had our lunch,” I remind her with a smile, while also putting my jacket over her shoulders.

  She may hate me a little, but she’s smart enough to take warmth in all forms.

  “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 shr
ug 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.

  Who?

  How?

  Why?

  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.