Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(84)
Mom even hesitates, and makes another frustrated sound as she presses a button on the fob to start the car.
We all need sensitivity training, because we watch without an ounce of shame, as he truly struggles to put himself in what is possibly one of the smallest cars ever. The other three would struggle some too.
When Emit’s head pops through the opening sunroof, Vance scrubs a hand over his face.
“This is why you have rebellions,” Arion says with a restrained smile. “You can’t be taken seriously.”
Emit cuts his eyes to Arion, but how…can he be taken seriously right now?
Vance just blinks a few times. “I’ll meet you there,” he decides, eyes flicking to mine briefly.
“I’ll take the clown car with the wolf, the livid Portocale, and the reason we’re all even here right now,” Damien chirps, eyes on mine as his lips tug up in an amused grin.
Mom swings an accusatory glance my way.
“Unbelievable,” is all she mutters.
CHAPTER 24
VANCE
“So that entire hotel is owned by underground shapeshifters, and you didn’t know it?” Emit says to Arion, laughing humorlessly as he shakes his head.
Arion studies the video over and over, or what small clips Marta found of Idun passing through the halls over two months ago.
The clips are brief, just enough to give us an estimate of how long she stayed in one place while we were distracted by Violet these past few active months, as Marta informed us.
“I didn’t know,” Arion grinds out. “I hate this woman with all my heart and soul,” he adds with a firm nod, referring to Marta.
He leans around the corner, watching them argue, as he tosses the phone back to me.
“And Marta hates us just as much. After all she’s done and kept from her daughter, now she’s acting offended because her daughter is hanging with the wrong monster crowd. Violet’s going to better appreciate the ones who don’t make this an issue,” Damien says with a smirk. “I’m the only one in the room capable of not giving a damn about Marta Portocale.”
Emit is perched next to Arion, watching them as well. However, he’s far more conspicuous about it.
I abandon the bare footage and go to join them. Marta rummages in one of the many bags she’s been going through since we showed up, as though she’s searching for something.
She’s yelling in a way that just seems like tense, loud talking, and Violet’s only slightly more animated than usual, as though she’s attempting the same peculiar thing.
It’s like watching the enemy in their natural habitat, and learning you never really knew all you thought you did when they still manage to confuse you.
“I accept that things just blow up around you. I accept that you’ll wear a sheet without shame. I accept that you attract things that like to kill you. But how does something like this just happen, Violet?” Marta asks in that loud, incredulous tone, looking up from the bag as she pauses her rummaging.
It’s going to take some time to get used to this very young version of her.
Violet blinks at a space on the wall, like she’s in her head and trying to figure out a short summary. She finally blows out a long, confused breath.
“They’re monsters, I’m a monster, and we’ve all got monster parts,” she settles on, essentially recycling it as an answer.
Marta’s lips tighten, and she continues staring very expectantly.
“I don’t know. It just did,” Violet says more seriously, throwing her hands up as she keeps her booted feet propped on the table in front of her, leisurely lounging in one of the five chairs around it.
“Do you know what they’re capable of?” Marta snaps.
Just how many bags of shit does this woman have after only being up a short amount of time?
“What happened to all your money? Did someone steal it?” Violet asks her in deflection, though it seems to be something that’s been driving her crazy, given the intent expression on her face.
“Of course you’d ask about my money. I’ve told you before, and I’ll say it again, that’s my money. I hid it so you didn’t bury it in some snow-capped mountain where it’d probably be lost forever,” Marta drones on, not making any sense in the slightest.
“Fair enough,” Violet says with a nod.
“Do you know what they’re capable of?” Marta asks her again.
Damien grins, and I see some flush hit Violet’s cheeks, as her eyes widen. She darts a scolding look his way, while her mother’s head stays focused on the seemingly bottomless bag.
“She knows what we’re capable of,” Damien murmurs, still grinning, as Violet glares at him for whatever image he’s manipulated into her mind.
She finally looks back at her mother when Marta pulls a hideous, cheaply-made, fabric doll out at last.
All that digging for that very anticlimactic, sad, somewhat disturbing little doll?
Violet’s eyes light up, intently devoted to the doll, and Damien shoves by me so he can study her better. There’s a look of pure awe and joy on her face, as though she couldn’t be any happier in this moment.
“Where’s that one from?” Violet asks her.
“I found it in a boutique just north of here after I came to,” Marta says, pausing her harsh tone and the palpable tension like it’s easy to do, as she puts the doll down on the table.