Gypsy Moon (Page 47)

I’m suddenly okay with them hunting Idun. Mom’s here, feeling guilty about lying to me my entire life, and—

“Why did you flirt with Arion?” I ask more seriously after that whole thing continues to grow increasingly confusing.

“Because I was trying to get your attention without it being obvious that I wanted your attention,” she bites out. “But then he was blocking you in on the elevator, and I couldn’t figure out how to get into the room without putting you at risk, until the scotch got called in. I had no idea you were willingly with him. I thought he was in your head, Violet. How could you?”

Arion is seriously resisting the urge to grin, and that’s unsurprisingly cruel. “Can you give us a little bit?” I ask them.

“I’m not killing anyone tonight, so release me. We have far more urgent matters to discuss at present, and this is the first time I’ve been able to gain an audience with you. I wanted to pretend to be someone other than myself, but fucking hell if you don’t make such a thing impossible, since you never bother getting to know anyone at all.” Her eyes grow colder as they land on mine. “At least most of the time.”

I rock back on my heels and hold my sheet a little tighter. Yep, she’s really pissed. Understandably so. By this point, she knows I slept with Arion after knowing the twisted, dark history—most likely.

Mom waves her hand, sniffling, as Arion finally releases her.

“Later,” she tells me, her put-a-pin-in-all-the-emotions look on her face. “I’m sure you’re all here because Idun came here for two months after she rose.”

Everyone looks at Arion, who immediately shakes his head. “I’m here because it was far away from where you thought I was. Simply a coincidence.”

Mom rolls her eyes, snorting in derision, as I glance over at Arion, who is still shaking his head.

“I had no idea. I came here to be alone with Violet for longer than it takes to smooth things over with a bunch of plotting wolves who never strike to your face,” Arion carries on defensively.

No one says anything, as though they don’t feel the need to argue, or know it’s a waste of time.

“Where are we?” I ask, confused.

Arion exhales harshly, running a hand through his hair, and then stabs a finger at Mom. “She’s lying. She’s trying to make me look like I’m plotting against you, when I’m honestly intending to stay fully neutral,” Arion protests like there’s been a silent accusation issued once again.

His eyes redden a little more as he glares at Mom, and I casually shift toward them, since I can’t die and they sort of can. One way or another, no one is dying today, damn it. Not because of me, and not while I’m just wearing a sheet.

The threads whir on said sheet, stitching it together so I can quit holding it, and Mom’s eyes go there as they narrow.

“How could she be lying, Arion?” Damien asks conversationally. “Was she here before or after you? Surely the hotel would notice an abrupt, out-of-place worker.”

Arion’s jaw grinds.

“What do you mean Idun was here for two months?” I ask her in deflection, moving back toward Arion before he loses his temper.

“Has Arion been here with you the entire time?”

“Aside from when he called Jessup,” I answer Vance dismissively, as Arion makes a frustrated sound.

“It was a coincidence,” Arion grinds out from behind me, snaking an arm around my waist and jerking me to his body, as if he’s worried they’re about to tear me away from him and hide me.

Good grief.

“How long have you been here?” I ask Mom, my voice going quiet, as her eyes glare at Arion’s arm around my middle.

“I told you over and over to hunt her betas down,” she says to Vance instead of answering me, as Arion presses against me even more.

“Why the hell would you pretend to be a mortal gypsy in our town?” Vance asks her incredulously.

She snarls at him, as Arion slowly relaxes against me the longer I don’t struggle to get away.

“Surely you’ve figured it out by now, Van Helsing. She was just in the nude with nothing on but her boots, and no one seemed surprised by the explanation that it was to keep her from getting struck by lightning.” At his blink, she makes her dealing-with-idiots half-laugh/half-groan noise that sounds expertly condescending. “I came to town and pretended to be someone else, because I was desperate and needed your bloody help. However, I never wanted you to know about her or what she is,” Mom says like she’s educating the forgotten village idiots.

“How long have you been here?” I ask again, my voice still too quiet to contend with the louder ones, as Emit curses.

“Help with the Neopry rising?” Damien asks her like he’s trying to figure things out.

“After spending almost a decade trying to sort out how to do this without you, I decided I had no other choice but to try and recruit you with the one temptation I knew you couldn’t refuse.”

“What temptation? Gypsy spice?” Vance asks her.

“She was going to help you lift your curses,” I say, somehow actually getting everyone’s attention. “How long?” I ask her again, but she shakes her head at me, telling me not now.

“So I moved into town, set up a curious gypsy shop that no doubt would have made the three of you intrigued just to see what sort of knock-off relics I was charging outrageous prices for. You were supposed to see the genuine deal and smell the Portocale blood, then I’d offer you help in return for yours. I wanted to raise them and keep that bitch underground, and the best time to do it was while the vampire was still under,” she says, eyes glaring at me just to prove she overheard all that with Arion.

My mother’s detailed expressions say a lot more without words than anyone else’s.

As if Arion’s just remembered all we’ve said, he stiffens behind me, and I pat his arm, signaling it won’t be an issue. He doesn’t seem to understand the pat because he doesn’t relax. At all.

“If you continue to touch that Vampyre in front of me, I’m going to get my feelings deeply hurt,” she states stoically, but I can see the truth of those words in her eyes.

“I’m standing between this Vampyre and you, so stow your hurt feelings, since I’m expected to stow mine.”

At my look, she clears her throat and takes a deep breath. Finally, I’m getting to talk, and it’s only after I agreed to stow my shit. So now I have nothing to say.

Vicious circle I live in with my mother.

“Things have gotten very complicated in my extremely short absence, haven’t they?” she asks in a quieter tone that belies the ginormous, vague question.

“A lot can happen to a girl like me in seven months,” I remind her.

She nods like she agrees, and we draw a few curious looks from the men, who’ve all grown silent.

“Seven months is actually a new world record for gypsy-hopping. I was trying to get back as soon as possible. It’s only been a couple of weeks, but since I ended up here. This poor girl died in a car accident in South Africa, and I landed in her body after a few minutes. Since then, I’ve checked the grave sites and discovered the loose soil and melted caskets in the various areas we buried Idun’s body parts,” she continues.

A little bit of relief fills me with her hidden answers to my asked and unasked questions.

“You’re damn right it’s a bloody record. It shouldn’t be possible, and it breaks all the rules,” Vance snaps, the three of them moving in closer to Arion and me.

“If you can all promise not to touch my daughter anymore, I’ll share what I know, and trust me, you’ll want to know what I know,” she baits them.

Arion snorts, Damien rolls his eyes, and Vance smiles tightly, as Emit makes no expression at all, eyes on my side that he can’t even see. It’s fine now. Mostly.

Arion’s hand is on the side that isn’t hurt, but that side feels tightly gripped and will also be bruised if he decides to throw me over his shoulder with it.

“How about they not touch me in front of you?” I suggest in compromise, earning another incensed look from my mother.

It’s weird to call her that when this version of her barely looks my age. And she’s prettier than she was before. Anna really will miss all the cruel jokes she could be making right now.

Mom’s going to make me argue with her as punishment. I really hate the arguing-talks we do.

Leashing all my emotions so I don’t accidentally set off the room, I take a fortifying breath, and Mom mimics the action.

She won’t ever let me be more badass than her, so she’s in twice as much control as I am right now.

“Can the four of you agree to this and know that it’s only a temporary bandage on an upcoming fallout?” Mom asks in a way that makes me want to palm my face.

I only thought it was complex up to now. I strongly underestimated just how bad this would be when she got back and found me quite literally sleeping with the enemy I didn’t know we had.

Her eyes cut to Emit.

“We’ll discuss the bruise on her at a later date as—”

“Don’t make him feel guiltier than he already does,” I cut in, causing my mother to release a humorless laugh.