Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(93)

We were uncertain what the Simpletons were capable of. They weren’t ever much of a threat, and Idun made it unbearable to care about them, considering she’s far crueler than even the vampire alpha.

“They can’t stitch themselves together, so keeping the lightning at bay was a mercy. It ensured they didn’t wake,” I point out…and then remember the Portocale curse that likely woke them.

I swallow down my next words and avoid the look Violet tries to shoot me.

“I can get us there faster,” Marta suggest.

Violet doesn’t acknowledge her mother’s guilt—be it mockery or sincere, something that is broadly hard to distinguish with Marta.

Still, Emit and I play her game, keeping mostly quiet unless it’s to agree, and discreetly observing every move and interaction she makes with Violet.

Violet shakes her head, eyes on her tray.

“No lightning yet, which means the storm is still far enough away, and I don’t want to risk disturbing the tray too much. I don’t trust the glass on these,” she answers, most of her concentration on said tray.

Marta drove us here at a snail’s crawl, while Emit ran ahead this time, leaving vampire territory edges as we traveled to an old center. It feels wrong to be so close to this place after swearing I never again would.

A breath hisses out of Violet when one of the glass vials rattles just a little on its own, almost like it’s ready to combust. It’s not supposed to do that, obviously. Marta and Violet relax when it settles down.

Violet always carries around hazardous, dangerous things. She never uses the bloody things, though, so I’m not entirely sure they’re quite as volatile as she imagines they are.

Marta wouldn’t be standing so close to her if she were the slightest bit concerned. The hovering fucking hen wouldn’t allow her fragile daughter to carry them either, if they were as vicious as Violet claims.

Marta’s playing games. I can see it in her every action.

I’m quite good at games.

Violet’s spine suddenly stiffens when we cross over the first, subtle threshold, possibly feeling the small pulse of power.

“It’s one of the two thresholds we’ll be able to cross without the others here to do the freaky shit we have to do,” I tell her, giving her only the gist, since she gets almost annoyed with too many details.

“I’ll be able to cross them,” Violet says with certainty, and Marta hangs me out to dry, not arguing, as Emit waits for us in front of the second threshold, standing on two legs and in naked flesh, as he stares over at the foggy center.

Violet’s breath fogs out in front of her seconds before mine does the same, and she grimaces, almost like she’s in pain, the tray rattling in her hands.

My hands are cupping her face in the next instant, ignoring Marta’s threat to stop touching her daughter. Violet’s hazy eyes meet mine, and a single tear falls, much to my horror.

“They’re in so much pain,” she whispers on a whimpered breath.

“What the fuck is happening?” I snap, glaring over at Marta as her jaw grinds.

“You know as well as I do what’s going on right now, Damien. Violet is the only one of her kind for a damn good reason. She was designed for one purpose, and she’s found it, even when I tried to keep her away from it.”

Violet makes another pained sound, staggering out of the second threshold and back into the first, clutching the rattling tray as she catches her breath.

My hands slowly drop to my sides as I just stare at her, feeling dread inching up my spine.

I have a feeling this isn’t a toss some shit and hang out sort of situation like we discussed. She looks shifty now. What recklessness is this gypsy plotting?

“Violet, you cannot go beyond the second threshold,” I caution her, my eyes dropping to the tray again. “It won’t let you. You’ll be crushed and your body will be shattered by a phantom vacuum suction you can’t fight,” I go on, carefully explaining things.

“No, I won’t. I raised Arion, remember?” she argues, and Emit slowly approaches, eyes moving around our spots.

“Arion was different,” I quickly argue. “It was a much weaker, lesser seal, sweet gypsy.”

“Even if you could reach the dead orchard burial ground’s center, you have Neopry blood, Violet. The wraiths that formed with the seal will drag you down,” Emit adds, which is something I forgot all about.

“I just have to reach the final threshold to toss these in,” Violet states, eyes still on the center as she doubles over again, pain contorting her features even from the first threshold.

“You brought her out here to let her attempt this, knowing it’s impossible?” I shout at Marta. “Why is it hurting her?”

So much for my bloody game. She’s fucking ruthless!

Her lips tug up in a smirk, and I once again question if this is Idun. We took Violet’s word it was Marta. But Idun is calculated enough to attack from a diabolical angle such as—

“The tea leaves warned of blood and death. Four gypsy first-borns breathed the last breath,” Marta sings, her eyes moving from me like I’m no longer consequential as her gaze lands on Violet.

My brow furrows as Violet’s eyes go a little more violet, and her gaze stays on the ground, as her breathing starts to slow.

“War! War! Beyond the double-dutch doors! Sing, sweet gypsies, who will be mistaken no more,” Marta goes on, a little more sadly.