Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(81)

“I had no idea. I came here to be alone with Violet for longer than it takes to smooth things over with a bunch of plotting wolves who never strike to your face,” Arion carries on defensively.

No one says anything, as though they don’t feel the need to argue, or know it’s a waste of time.

“Where are we?” I ask, confused.

Arion exhales harshly, running a hand through his hair, and then stabs a finger at Mom. “She’s lying. She’s trying to make me look like I’m plotting against you, when I’m honestly intending to stay fully neutral,” Arion protests like there’s been a silent accusation issued once again.

His eyes redden a little more as he glares at Mom, and I casually shift toward them, since I can’t die and they sort of can. One way or another, no one is dying today, damn it. Not because of me, and not while I’m just wearing a sheet.

The threads whir on said sheet, stitching it together so I can quit holding it, and Mom’s eyes go there as they narrow.

“How could she be lying, Arion?” Damien asks conversationally. “Was she here before or after you? Surely the hotel would notice an abrupt, out-of-place worker.”

Arion’s jaw grinds.

“What do you mean Idun was here for two months?” I ask her in deflection, moving back toward Arion before he loses his temper.

“Has Arion been here with you the entire time?”

“Aside from when he called Jessup,” I answer Vance dismissively, as Arion makes a frustrated sound.

“It was a coincidence,” Arion grinds out from behind me, snaking an arm around my waist and jerking me to his body, as if he’s worried they’re about to tear me away from him and hide me.

Good grief.

“How long have you been here?” I ask Mom, my voice going quiet, as her eyes glare at Arion’s arm around my middle.

“I told you over and over to hunt her betas down,” she says to Vance instead of answering me, as Arion presses against me even more.

“Why the hell would you pretend to be a mortal gypsy in our town?” Vance asks her incredulously.

She snarls at him, as Arion slowly relaxes against me the longer I don’t struggle to get away.

“Surely you’ve figured it out by now, Van Helsing. She was just in the nude with nothing on but her boots, and no one seemed surprised by the explanation that it was to keep her from getting struck by lightning.” At his blink, she makes her dealing-with-idiots half-laugh/half-groan noise that sounds expertly condescending. “I came to town and pretended to be someone else, because I was desperate and needed your bloody help. However, I never wanted you to know about her or what she is,” Mom says like she’s educating the forgotten village idiots.

“How long have you been here?” I ask again, my voice still too quiet to contend with the louder ones, as Emit curses.

“Help with the Neopry rising?” Damien asks her like he’s trying to figure things out.

“After spending almost a decade trying to sort out how to do this without you, I decided I had no other choice but to try and recruit you with the one temptation I knew you couldn’t refuse.”

“What temptation? Gypsy spice?” Vance asks her.

“She was going to help you lift your curses,” I say, somehow actually getting everyone’s attention. “How long?” I ask her again, but she shakes her head at me, telling me not now.

“So I moved into town, set up a curious gypsy shop that no doubt would have made the three of you intrigued just to see what sort of knock-off relics I was charging outrageous prices for. You were supposed to see the genuine deal and smell the Portocale blood, then I’d offer you help in return for yours. I wanted to raise them and keep that bitch underground, and the best time to do it was while the vampire was still under,” she says, eyes glaring at me just to prove she overheard all that with Arion.

My mother’s detailed expressions say a lot more without words than anyone else’s.

As if Arion’s just remembered all we’ve said, he stiffens behind me, and I pat his arm, signaling it won’t be an issue. He doesn’t seem to understand the pat because he doesn’t relax. At all.

“If you continue to touch that Vampyre in front of me, I’m going to get my feelings deeply hurt,” she states stoically, but I can see the truth of those words in her eyes.

“I’m standing between this Vampyre and you, so stow your hurt feelings, since I’m expected to stow mine.”

At my look, she clears her throat and takes a deep breath. Finally, I’m getting to talk, and it’s only after I agreed to stow my shit. So now I have nothing to say.

Vicious circle I live in with my mother.

“Things have gotten very complicated in my extremely short absence, haven’t they?” she asks in a quieter tone that belies the ginormous, vague question.

“A lot can happen to a girl like me in seven months,” I remind her.

She nods like she agrees, and we draw a few curious looks from the men, who’ve all grown silent.

“Seven months is actually a new world record for gypsy-hopping. I was trying to get back as soon as possible. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but since I ended up here. This poor girl died in a car accident in South Africa, and I landed in her body after a few minutes. Since then, I’ve checked the grave sites and discovered the loose soil and melted caskets in the various areas we buried Idun’s body parts,” she continues.