Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(2)
I still detest it when they pick these horrid meeting places, but all that will yield if they join me in creating this utopia I wish to build.
We can just live and die in peace, until it’s our time to go to our final resting place and walk alongside our brethren who’ve gone on before us.
Death won’t be something we fear any longer, because it’ll be a welcome peace once we’ve lived full, blessed, peaceful lives.
A man without a dream is a man with no soul.
Chapter 1
DAMIEN
Violet drops so unexpectedly that I barely have time to catch her head before she hits the ground. Exhaling heavily, I lift her and glare over my shoulder at Arion’s house.
He’s been unconscious for too fucking long, and he’s acting out, just as we knew he would. Yet now a very unique Portocale is in the mix, and he’s clearly off his rocker as much as ever.
“Were you taken or did you come of your own volition?” I ask as I listen to the faintest sounds of Vance shouting at Arion inside the fortified home.
Something shatters, and a loud crash accompanies a curse.
“Taken,” she says a little weakly as I continue listening in, hoping to hear Arion yelp in pain one good time. “Clearly,” she adds in an almost curt tone.
I hear the clanging of swords and feel confident Vance has it under control.
“Then why the hell would you kiss him before departure?” I bite out as I carry her to the van and put her in the passenger seat.
She limply bats my hands away as she buckles herself in and answers, “Because it’s the gypsy thing to do. You never knowingly disrespect a gypsy in their home.”
I want to throttle her right now for reciting old traditions that aren’t exactly rules to live by. Instead, I shut the door, listen to the swords still clanging, and debate calling Emit, since Violet certainly doesn’t need to be left alone. I sure as hell shouldn’t be left alone with her in my current state.
My heart is pounding. I’m a sexual deviant, not some good ol’ chap who knows how to exercise control when his motherfucking monster heart is beating.
I really hope she isn’t putting off a lot of pheromones the way she normally does around me.
If I call Emit, he’ll just get himself killed. It’s not fair that he’ll get a temporary reprieve from the hell Arion is sure to leave in his furious wake.
“I really hope you make him hurt worse than you hurt me this last time, Van Helsing!” I shout on frustrated breath as I make the decision to leave.
As I jerk the van door open and get seated, Violet just stares blankly at the house.
“You don’t have to follow any sort of gypsy code when the other gypsy is a psychotic vampire and has no pride and…kidnapped you,” I point out a little angrily, as I quickly drive us out of the long driveway and back onto the road.
“I’m sure that’s easier to believe if you’re a prideless gypsy,” she answers quietly. “Prideless gypsies have no code. Side note: You didn’t even blink at the amount of lifeless bodies.”
I have a moment of empathy for Emit when I have the unnatural urge to put my head through a wall.
“You’re infuriating and a hazard to yourself. You attract too much attention.”
“At least now I know why,” she says quietly, eyes still distant and vacant as she stares outside.
“I highly doubt that’s true,” I scoff, watching the rearview for any vampire followers.
“Now that I know you’re all a bunch of old-blood gypsies, it makes perfect sense. The prideless are always drawn to those with their gypsy pride still intact, and try to make them fall as well. At least that’s how the tale is told.”
I run a frustrated hand through my hair. “You certainly sound like a Portocale now,” I state a little bitterly.
“Good. Maybe I’ll survive all of you long enough for the fanatical lunatics of that cult to get their hands on me. Still, I got the good end of the deal, since I don’t have to cut ghosts down to salt in order to survive.”
“Your life sucks so hard sometimes,” Anna says from the backseat with her very abrupt entry. “Fill me in on what I’ve missed.”
Violet sighs as though she’s relieved to hear the annoying ghost, so I put the salt ball back in my pocket instead of tossing it over my shoulder.
“Gypsy vampire and gypsy Van Helsing are about to have a gypsy throw-down in the House of Arion—the big bad vampire who rose from the dead after I was tricked by—” The words halt on her tongue and she curses.
“By who?” I grind out.
“By Shera,” she states and looks out, frowning.
“Shera tricked you? How did she even know where he was buried or—”
“Shera tricked me, and that’s all I seem to really be able to say, for whatever reason,” she goes on as she sits up a little straighter, her brow furrowed.
“It wasn’t Shera. It was Grandma’s handmaiden!” Anna shouts.
“That’s not it either. I can’t really remember at this second who it was,” she goes on, seeming lost and confused.
The steering wheel tries to crumple under my tightening grip. “Arion has a way with words,” I state vaguely. That’s why the son of a bitch leaned down to her ear.