Gypsy's Blood (Page 32)

On another sweep of the room, I notice a table haphazardly turned over, a fire poker out beside it, and one leg of it badly hacked. The hacked pieces have been sloppily jammed into the two dead vampires that have been left behind for anyone to find.

“That lying little gypsy,” I say under my breath, slightly in awe of how utterly stupid I feel as my swords retract and the hilts get pocketed.

Emit walks in just as I place my hands on my hips and truly observe the scene, confounded by how exactly this came about, when she only just learned vampires exist.

She can’t be that good of a liar, can she?

“There are two more bodies in the hall, both looped with threads, and have stakes in their hearts. There’s also a full chest of stakes out there,” he tells me with the same amount of surprise.

“Martin has been swearing for years that vampires break into his house when he’s away, so he has tons of chests full of stakes,” I murmur idly.

“Martin’s literally insane, delusional, and paranoid,” Emit says absently, kicking at one of the vampire bodies as though he needs assurances the guy’s dead.

“Is he? That’s a count of four staked bodies that are proof he’s correct. What about the rest of the house?”

“No one else is here, but this is one hell of a mess,” he says on a harsh breath. “Did she snap?”

“And come to Martin’s house to kill vampires who shouldn’t be in Martin’s house?” I ask incredulously.

“Okay…so what happened?”

I run a hand through my hair. “At this point, only she can answer—”

The untouched curtains blow in the wind, and we both snap our gazes to smears of blood on the ground.

He moves to the closet door and swings it open, and I stare a little uneasily at the very large puddle of blood in the floor there.

“She’s a mortal Portocale gypsy,” Emit says quietly.

“She’s a mortal Portocale gypsy who doesn’t feed on ghosts to survive a curse she doesn’t seem to know about,” I tell him in agreement, knowing where he’s going with this.

“Mortal Portocale gypsies couldn’t survive losing that much blood unless they fed on a spirit during all of this. Damien said you told him she was cold.”

“Very fucking cold,” I state as I walk over to the hallway and peer at the two dead bodies on either side out there.

More of her blood is smattered on the ground. Why wasn’t it staining her clothes? Or was it? That horrible floral pattern was on a yellow background, but there were a lot of red florals. I didn’t pay it much attention because it was too hideous to look at.

When I look back over, I notice one of the vampires is missing a pair of shoes. I also notice half of an orange blanket has been peeled apart, matching a very familiar scarf’s material.

“This fucking gypsy is going to be the death of me,” I mutter under my breath before scrubbing a hand over my face.

“How’s Martin’s house?” I hear Damien asking, and I whirl around to find Emit holding up his phone, turning it from side to side to show him what we’re seeing.

I watch his eyes go from the screen and flick up, and can tell from the background Damien is in Violet’s room.

“She’s not as innocent as she looks, is she?” he muses. “True gypsy woman.”

“We need to clean this up, but none of these vampires are marked,” Emit tells him.

“All the easier to clean up the unregistered, and killing them simply saved Vance the trouble,” Damien drawls, eyes still not on the screen.

My own gaze narrows.

“Tell Vance I found his favorite jacket. He left it with a gypsy,” the prick says before the call ends.

“You left her your favorite jacket?” Emit asks me on a disappointed exhale. “You need to apologize for making her his newest obsession. Because he wants to take away anything you might even consider caring about.”

“It’s not like he can touch her,” I say with a cruel smile.

He tries not to smile, but I feel like his barely restrained amusement is mocking me. “He can touch her. He just can’t enjoy it,” he reminds me as he turns and walks out.

My smile immediately falls, and I reach down, grabbing one leg of the vampire closest to me.

“I now remember why I started hating you in the first place,” I call out as I haul the body behind me.

Couldn’t she have at least killed them in someone other than Martin’s house? It doesn’t matter how much we clean, he’ll still somehow know we were here.

Crazy old codger might not be quite as crazy as we thought.

“Why would vampires be here?” I hear Emit asking more seriously as he drags the two from the hallway over to the window.

“I know we complain about how boring life has gotten, but this is getting ridiculous,” is the only answer I have available, as I go back for the last vampire.

I pause and walk toward the closet, bending when I see a knife off to the side, almost hidden from sight. I lift it, smelling Violet’s blood on it.

“You lying little gypsy,” I say again, quieter as I try to figure out how the pieces fit together…but come up empty.

If she fed from ghosts, Anna would already be dead. Feeding from nearby ghosts isn’t optional. Portocale gypsies don’t get to pick and choose who they steal from, unlike monsters.

“I guess I’ll be the one to get answers out of her, since she thinks you and Damien are peeping perverts,” Emit gloats, and I grimace as I prepare myself for the ridicule.

“Yes, right,” I state dryly. “About that…”

Chapter 20

VIOLET

My eyes flutter open, and I moan in the cocoon of warmth as I stretch. I pause mid-stretch when I realize I’m wearing Vance’s jacket. How did that happen? It was wrapped around me but my arms weren’t in it.

The scarf is still firmly hiding my newest stitches, since it’s stitched to the stitches for that reason. I need something—

“Damien’s in your room right now,” Ace says, causing me to jerk my attention to the corner where he’s still sitting.

I spot him idly staring down at his nails.

I forgot he was in here, and I really didn’t expect him to stick around. He’s a ghost with some observable measure of boundaries, which is new.

I don’t speak, since his words sink in and I feel the urge to tug the covers up.

“He’s curious as to why you staked four vampires in the heart, and he is watching to see what your response is when no one is looking,” he goes on. “I’d like to hear this story as well, if we’re being honest with each other.”

I glance around, trying not to be obvious.

“He’s right beside me. Don’t worry. He can’t hear or see me, but you could really freak him out if you look…”

He lets his words trail off, and I follow him as he moves. He gives me a smug grin as he takes a seat.

“…into my eyes,” he says like he’s finishing his sentence.

I stare directly into his eyes, because that seems to be something I can’t actually avoid with him.

He shifts, and I shift with him, following his eyes, and noticing his grin. When he stands and moves, my gaze follows him.

Suddenly, Damien becomes visible, and Ace steps out of him, laughing under his breath as Damien narrows his eyes on me.

“How could you see me?” he asks angrily.

The insane urge to grin is almost infectious. I think ghost insanity can be catching if you interact with the crazy ones for too long.

“Why are you in my room again?” I ask in deflection.

“Who are you?” he demands.

“Which name would you prefer right now? Violet or January?”

He actually growls at me.

“Are you part animal? Is that the kind of monster you are?” I ask curiously.

Ace outright laughs, his head tipping back, as Damien just continues to stare.

“You killed four vampires today, and now I realize you can apparently see me. Don’t you think you have some questions to answer?” he asks seriously.

“Tell me your secrets, and I’ll tell you mine,” I say with a sweet smile.

“He doesn’t quite know what to do with you. All his normal tactics are pointless, because you’re an untouchable Portocale,” Ace says as though he’s enjoying all this too much.

Damien’s eyes cut away from me, and he moves to the dresser where some flowers are. “I fixed your door, and if you’re hungry, there’s a tray of food on the table beside you. I brought it up when you first started stirring, but it should still be warm,” he says, confusing me with his abrupt one-eighty.

I glance over and see the food on the tray. It’s all laid out so neatly, and the plate is covered by a clear covering of some sort. There’s even a little rose on the tray, along with coffee, tea, and water. At least I’m assuming that’s water, since I don’t smell any vodka.

“I wasn’t sure what beverage you prefer,” he adds, the generous notion in no way an excuse for his invasive attitude toward personal boundaries.

“Why are you being nice?” I ask, suspicious.

“Clearly he plans to seduce you,” Ace answers as though that should be obvious. “You won’t let him close enough for him to study any other way at this point. And you’re wearing Vance’s favorite jacket.”