Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(87)

Marta frowns at the doll’s leg, and I see a curious breath of frustration leave her in the way her chest caves.

Cold, lethal eyes cut in our direction when Marta finally acknowledges us, and Violet gives us a tight smile…and what appears to be a somewhat apologetic little five-fingered wave.

“Now I’m confused again,” Arion admits warily, as he takes a step back from the door. And another. And another.

Marta finally turns around, glares at Violet for a second, while Violet returns her stare with a bored look.

“The bloody doll is a timer for how long Marta is allowed to be a raging bitch,” Emit—the village idiot in a lopsided toga—points out. “Marta was denied more time.”

“Are you telling me Marta has found a way to be sensitive to a Simpleton?” Damien asks before he groans. “I really need to stop calling them—and her—that.”

“It’s sort of the only name we ever gave them,” I remind him.

“Obviously, we can just blame that on Idun. We have enough things to do wrong all on our own where Violet is concerned,” Emit mutters.

“Or she’s had long enough to practice manipulating Violet. She can be manipulated all too easily when she trusts you,” Arion notes like he’s speaking from experience.

I hate the paranoia that accompanies confusing moments that stir all our instincts. We all dart a gaze at the other in suspicion. Too many alphas in one room when things are tense never works out well.

We still have to tell Marta that Edmond is the one who hired vampires to have her killed. They just messed up the timing, and tried to get it right with her daughter for the second part of his agenda.

Fun times ahead. Fun times.

My eyes stay fixed on Violet, as I remain rooted to my spot, unable to advance another step.

“It’s a shit time to be a Van Helsing,” I state flatly.

“Violet being a pureblood Neopry means she’s just na?ve and capable enough to not look away from an alpha’s eyes,” Emit murmurs. “She even does it with us.”

“She’s Marta’s daughter, and all of this is rule-less territory for her—the first and possibly only of her kind. An alleged immortal pureblood of two Houses like no other pureblood before? It’ll override any claims Idun has to her,” Arion tells me absently, like he’s working multiple things out in his head at once. “By now she’s discovered what Violet is, and she’s been learning the long con of ways to be her, or to simply make her irrelevant, depending on her thousand-year-old mood. But Violet is apparently a mystery we still haven’t solved the way I thought we had,” he carries on as Violet fluffs the clothes on the doll.

“Anyone else a little creeped out about watching her play with a doll her mother gave her?” Emit notes.

“So long as she’s over twenty, it’s just wrong enough for me,” Damien answers distractedly, as Violet seems to speak patiently to her mother, most of her attention trained on the pink button eyes.

It takes a while, but Marta nods at Violet, and Violet looks away like that’s all she was waiting on. She hands the doll back to her mother. Marta tucks it into her bag, along with the sewing kit, and Violet puts her hand out in front of Marta, as her lips start moving too fast for me to try and guess at her words.

Marta takes the knife, and I watch with the other breath-holding alphas, as Violet chatters animatedly. Marta does that pointless trick of stabbing the spaces between Violet’s fingers at a rapid, hard-to-follow pace, as though she’s a traveling freak show.

Violet just carries on talking, as Marta focuses all her attention on not hitting Violet’s hand. Violet leisurely relaxes, still chatting like she’s making idle conversation, or filling her mother in on some less tense things.

Marta rolls her eyes, never missing a beat with the blade, and stops abruptly when Violet stops talking.

Marta takes her bag, opens her mouth and closes it, as Violet’s expression changes to a daring little look. Then Marta glares at us once more, before moving toward the door.

“We act like nothing she says surprises us,” I tell the others, seconds prior to Marta exiting the box.

I finally take a seat in one of the non-dusty chairs off to the side as she slowly approaches.

Violet stays inside the room, casting an annoyed look at her mother’s back, while Marta stops in front of all of us. Violet averts her gaze when Marta gives us a vicious, scathing look.

“You’re handling this much better than expected,” Damien says like the dick who can’t shut up, as he grins over at Marta, timing the words to come out just as the door to the soundproof box shuts.

“I may not can get rid of you just yet, but you will never be able to get rid of me, so long as my daughter is in your lives. Think about that,” she tells us very darkly.

Not the most warming thought.

Now’s not the time to tell her about Edmond. It’s not like he can truly kill Violet or her, so Idun is the more pressing matter. Idun can’t kill Violet either, but she can make Violet wish she could die.

That’s not going to happen.

I’m not going to let that happen.

“You’re supposed to be the one incapable of wrongs on this level,” she goes on, glaring over at me. “My daughter,” she adds on a harsh, choked whisper, as her teeth grind.

“What did you have your daughter agreeing to before there are even rules established for her very existence?” Arion drawls like he’s only mildly interested.