Gypsy Freak (Page 23)

“I feel less powerful,” I say quietly…to myself, apparently.

Damien has vanished, even though I can still feel his touch.

As far as they’re all concerned, I’m walking and talking with myself.

He doesn’t speak, and more and more vampires studiously take me in, regarding me with far too much interest. As soon as we leave behind the peanut gallery, Damien returns to flesh, and I glare at the side of his face.

“Sorry,” he states very unapologetically. “I needed to see them watching you so I could see if any of them had any ideas. They wouldn’t be stupid enough to do so in my presence. Even those who forget me still feel my dominance,” he adds.

“Well?”

“Curious interest. No malice. Yet,” he says, adding that last word like a caution.

Shera meets me at Damien’s vehicle, my clutch in her hand, and she hands it to me.

“Congratulations. You’re officially safe from any future vampire attacks, even the unregistered ones,” she tells me matter-of-factly. “However, should you have any issues, please call the number on the card I left in your purse.”

With that, she turns and walks away.

“I think that’s the most pleasant I’ve ever heard her be,” Damien muses.

“That was pleasant?”

“Comparatively speaking, yes.”

When I finally manage to glance at my phone, I curse, because somehow it’s already after midnight. How long did I dance?

“If I ask what you can do with pheromones, will it turn into a demonstration?” I ask for the sake of curiosity.

“Most certainly,” he says as he opens the door for me, glancing back at the house. “Take my car, Violet,” he adds, shutting the door in front of me before I can get in, and then he pulls out the keys. “I actually need to listen in on what the three of them are discussing.”

I take the keys from his hands, not bothering to argue, and he walks around to the other side in front of me, opening that door for me instead.

After I’m inside the vehicle, he shuts the door and disappears. “Leave a window open for me,” is the last thing he says.

I can’t help but wonder if seeing him through his illusion was a trick Arion used with his astral projection, or if he can see him regardless.

I also can’t ask anyone but Arion or that memory will fade.

“I can’t believe I actually enjoyed a vampire party,” I say on a disappointed-with-myself breath, as I carefully navigate my way through the crowded lot.

It doesn’t take me long get home…without anything jumping out of the shadows at me.

It’s quiet and dark in the house when I get home, and I trip over Dad’s toolbox that was apparently forgotten in front of the door. The clumsy stumble doesn’t even interrupt the thoughts I’m so lost in.

The monsters are a complicated group of people, too complex for me to judge any of them based on one encounter. Besides Dorian. I really don’t like him. He was a little too pushy and insistent that I speak to him, and kept touching me, doing that thing where images pop into my head.

I’m not sure why he kept giving me images of me kneeing him in the balls, because that’s really what I ended up wishing I could do by the end.

When I pass the guest room, I hear Dad steadily snoring. Loudly.

A small smile graces my lips as I head into my room. If he’s still here next week, it’ll be the first time he’s spent my birthday with me since I was a kid.

With that in mind, I skip my shower, happy to be done with monster business so I can finally spend time with Dad.

They all seemed calmer tonight, possibly even…amiable. I’ve seen Emit and Vance fight, and then move right on along like nothing happened.

I’ve seen Damien and Vance fight, and Vance didn’t even really get all that upset about Damien watching us in…well, in Damien’s bedroom, which…just makes it all too weird.

I haven’t heard them say a single nice thing to each other, yet sit in the same room with a comfortable familiarity that can easily give those around them a false sense of security.

They could be having tea right now for all I know.

And thinking about all that is exhausting when I’ve danced the night away in front of all of them. I guess that’s one way to make four guys really not interested in you.

My phone rings, and I answer the unknown number while in the middle of my laugh/groan.

“Yes?”

There’s silence for a second, and my laughter tapers off.

“Hello?” I ask, hearing Dad snoring all the way from here.

Before anyone ever speaks, a ghost pops into my room, and my eyes unfortunately land right on his.

“I really don’t have room for another monster in my life, so I hope you’re just a normal guy,” I tell the ghost as I hang up the phone, absently tossing it aside.

He takes a step forward, smiling like he’s excited to talk to someone, but then he stops, frowns, and vanishes from sight.

O…kay…

Not questioning my luck, I decide to get as much sleep as possible before Dad wakes me up with the sun.

Unfortunately, the ghost reappears just as my eyes blink, and I startle as he marches to me.

“Are you doing that on purpose, or has someone done something to you?” he asks me.

I’m not sure why, but as if they’ve just been waiting for the signal, the triplets appear behind him.

“Judging by the look on her face, she has no idea what you’re talking about,” they all say in eerie unison.

Then, either Sarah, Lily, or Bethany adds, “We think someone is using you, young gypsy. And they’re slowly-but-surely killing any ghost who sticks around too long. Anna made us promise to find out who. We just wanted to make sure you really didn’t know before we held true to our end of the bargain.”

So much for sleep.

I sit up in the bed, looking between the triplet’s eyes, but keeping a wary peripheral on the new guy.

“One of the guys?” I guess, knowing better but feeling stupidly too comfortable amongst beings who almost feel…kindred.

“No. Anna said it started the moment she met you, and judging by their unhealthy obsessions with you, I’d say they surely haven’t known of you longer,” one of the others says.

“So who?” I ask, skipping right over that ‘unhealthy obsession’ thing.

“Something like this takes time to fester and grow. It uses a piece of your own life force to channel that spirit’s energy to something or someone. So who, aside from your very unimpressive, snoring, farting, butt-scratching father, has had access to you?”

“My unimpressive, snoring, farting, butt-scratching ex,” I deadpan. “And my mother,” I add, my lips thinning as what they’re saying slowly falls into place. “Are you saying my mother did something to me? Because my ex knew nothing about the gypsy world.”

“We’re saying she’s either protecting you or betraying you. Which sounds more like your mother?” the guy asks, taking a healthy step back. “And I’m only here because a gypsy will owe me a debt, and I have a living girlfriend with a broken heart and an empty bank account,” he adds. “You’re going to fill it up for her so she cries a little less.”

I still have rich gypsies who owe me a debt, and a lot of oranges they seem to covet…

“What do I get out of this?”

“You get to find out who killed your favorite-ever ghost,” one of the girls says, causing a pang in my heart. “You’re working so hard to find out who killed your mother, even though you really already know, and it makes you mad that you can’t do anything about it. But where’s your mother’s spirit, and did she kill Anna to do something even from beyond death?”

“Mom hunted rogue spirits only. Never the peaceful,” I say quickly, not liking where this is going at all.

“So why isn’t it as important to you to find out who used you to kill Anna? Because Anna clearly isn’t the target, Violet. Someone is doing this to you, and it’s your right to decide if you want to speak to the dead.”

I don’t have to ask questions. I’m slow, but I catch up eventually. “If Mom has anything to do with this, it’s because she knew I’d be gullible and make eye contact. She said the dead shouldn’t get to influence the living. They’ve had their time. If you know I’m dangerous to you, why not run?”

“If you know it’s happening, and you don’t want it to, then why not try to figure out how to stop it?” the guy volleys. “Or should the dead go into final decay early just for being too close for too long?”

“Like Anna,” the triplets all point out again as my jaw wobbles.

“Fine,” I bite out, feeling a tear roll down my cheek. “I’ll find out, but if my mother did this, then there’s a really good reason.”

“Or you just make up a really good reason because you can’t think for yourself,” another triplet pipes in. “Anna said you had blind faith and loyalty to your mother, even in her worst moments. She was afraid you’d be left without this piece of you if it continues. We agree.”

“I could lose sight of ghosts,” I say, half wondering if that was Mom’s intentions, already unfairly considering her the prime suspect.