Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters #4)(96)

“But we signed that sentence in blood,” Marta adds distractedly as Violet’s head lifts ever so slightly, staring over Emit’s shoulder to find all of us staring at her, as the violet color in her eyes slowly dims to be almost unnoticeable once more. “And then I bore an impossible child after I fell truly in love with a man for the very first time in my life.”

I almost don’t believe the words out of her mouth, because Marta would never confess something to make her that vulnerable. Not when Tom is already a sore topic for Arion.

I see it in the vampire’s eyes as he devotes all his attention to her, barely resisting the urge to smirk.

“Tom’s already as good as dead, Vampyre. Stow your excitement. I prepared myself for it the day I learned I was pregnant, because the day you found out was surely inevitable. Violet is a conduit for more than lightning. She’s a magnet—she tempts death and attracts it. Her life was set up to deliver her to this very moment. Now that her job is done, the universe will cast her aside, and you’ll ruin her just to spite me.”

She angrily bats away her tears as Violet looks away, resting her head on Emit’s shoulder.

“You only think you’ve seen my vengeance,” Marta threatens, her jaw grinding as she cuts her cold glare to us, and the temperature chills just barely. “She can’t die, and I’ll just bet Nadine would be far less likely to stand by the way she did with Caroline when she meets Violet. Not when she could have me by her side. Call it mother’s intuition.”

“You and Nadine can’t sit in the same room because of what you did to Bobo, you hypocritical bag of psycho marbles,” I bite out. “Why would she care for your daughter?”

So much for playing my patient little games.

Her smile wavers. “You’d be surprised at what one can overcome when they’re truly tired. Go chase Idun. I’ve done my exact minimal part, according to the law. Tell her I said to go fuck herself up the ass with one of your dicks that will never touch my daughter again. Violet will see the truth soon,” she carries on, straightening her skirt. “She probably already sees.”

With that, she walks away, as Arion runs a hand through his hair.

“She really was designed specifically for this, and nature forced order when we tried to break the big rules again,” Vance states quietly. “What really does happen when something completes its purpose?”

“It becomes obsolete,” I say barely above a whisper.

“Or is that cruel bitch Portocale just feeding us lies mixed with ominous, vague truths and fucking with our heads the way she always does?” Arion growls.

“It doesn’t matter right now. It’s clear Marta really is going to protect Violet, and that’s a lot of protection, especially if Nadine backs her up,” Vance states like he’s inside his own head.

His job just got very complicated. A whole set of Houses have just risen, and none of them have true homes any longer. Sucks to be him today.

“Why would Nadine ever back up Violet against Idun?” Arion asks like we’ve both lost our damn minds for even considering it.

“Because Violet grows Nadine’s perfectly green apples,” Vance supplies with the condescension he feels the answer deserves.

I hadn’t considered that. Those damn apples may actually bear some impact.

Arion shakes his head slowly. “Nadine backing Violet will only cause Idun to lash out at her mother’s favorites as punishment. She’d never risk it.”

“Unless Marta knows something we don’t and has leverage,” I prod. “Because that certainly sounds like Marta.”

“Violet’s going to be entangled right in the middle of this,” Vance states as his jaw grinds more.

My eyes dart to Violet when I hear her speak, her words nothing more than a tired, rasp whisper. “That feels better.”

Before Violet even gets to meet the ones she’s raised, her head lulls to the side, eyes rolling back. Emit’s gaze swings to her as her arms drop and her body goes slack in his arms.

The doll Violet stitched pops into my mind as the fog lifts, revealing the army of men and women, long forgotten, with lacing on leathery skin of varying colors.

The only one with the signature bolts jutting out horizontally from his neck is Bobo, as he emerges to the front, carrying the limp, mummified-stitch-doll Nadine.

Arthur is on his other side, with their mummified, pieced-together father in his arms.

None of their eyes even glance our way. Aside from the still-downed, mummified skin walkers, all Neopry eyes are on Violet. Emit takes a cautious step back.

Bobo’s jaw wobbles as he glances up at the sky, squinting into the sunlight that begins to peak through the clouds, as the first tear slides down his ashen cheek. His eyes close as another tear slips out…and another, and another, until his shoulders begin shaking with a silent sob. He staggers down to his knees, rocking his mother in his arms, as we all just look on in silence.

As if it sets off a wave of emotion, various others drop to their knees, as a small shower of snow starts sprinkling from the clouds that bore rain and lightning not too long ago.

Some laugh.

Some cry.

Some do both, as they all reach for the sky, feeling the soothing balm of the cold to ease the pain.

“That’s more Neoprys than I remember,” Vance murmurs under his breath. “Stay with her,” he adds to me. “Arion and I have somewhere to go.”