Gypsy's Blood

by C. M. Owens

  “You really had your hands all over a Portocale and didn’t burst into flames or anything?” I ask.

  “That was a fucking concern?” he asks incredulously, staring at me in horror.

  “Everything is a concern where Portocale gypsies are involved,” I say with a careless shrug, trying not to let my lips twitch.

  “While you find this funny, think about this: I told her who and what I am, something most people, who don’t already know, never actually learn. I really love my secrets. It makes me more interesting,” he bites out.

  He’s right about that.

  “I can’t get those orange cookies out of my head. I want to go beg her for more, but I’m terrified of what’s going to come out of my mouth while I’m putting those in it,” Emit bites out, while crushing a can in his hand.

  “The cookies she made looked like dog biscuits?” I ask, clearing my throat around the laughter that bubbles up.

  Emit growls, even as Damien swallows down his own amusement.

  Rolling my eyes, I stand. “I really need answers about the vampire thing.”

  “Then you better out-gypsy her. She’s on the hunt for her own answers, and she’s not looking to answer questions,” Damien fills me in, running a hand through his hair. “Then she’ll just strut out and leave a man alone with a beating heart he can’t slow back down,” he petulantly adds.

  “Margie, don’t answer the door,” I say over the intercom, half questioning my damn sanity.

  “You two couldn’t refuse her gifts?” I ask them.

  “Could you resist the taste of Portocale oranges?” Emit bites out.

  Damien pulls a mirror from the inside of his jacket and holds it up to me.

  “It’s exquisite. Far too exquisite for her to simply part with without my debt being ridiculous,” he growls.

  I start to touch it, but he jerks it back out of reach. “You can look, but touch and I’ll make you bleed, Van Helsing. Let’s have a rematch with my heart beating.”

  I start to point out they’re both lunatics, which is disturbing on its own level, when there’s a buzzing over the intercom that means someone is coming down the driveway.

  Emit darts out of the room, and I hear the giant stomping around. My eyes go back to Damien, who also rushes out of the room.

  Rolling my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose, I follow, because I have no idea how else to react. Emit is acting like a raving lunatic over oranges I can’t even remember, and Damien’s heart is beating. This day is officially the most peculiar day I’ve had in too long.

  “She’s going to get you to train her now,” Damien says to Emit, who groans like he’s already tortured.

  “Why would he train her instead of me?” I’m quick to counter.

  “She doesn’t want a monster slayer training her,” Damien drawls with a mocking grin. “Guess this gypsy prefers monsters.”

  “Shh! She’s coming!” Emit hisses, shoving at Damien as they both duck to be under the window, looking utterly ridiculous, since the wall across from them is mirrors.

  I still drop to the ground and try to hide when I hear her start knocking…as though I’ve been infected by their stupidity. Two monsters and one monster slayer hiding from a young gypsy.

  The indignity is unbearable.

  “Ms. Woods?” I hear the little gypsy call out as she knocks again. “Vance?”

  Emit barely stretches up, peers one eye out the window, and ducks back down like his life depends on staying out of sight.

  Margie walks in, stumbles to a halt, and just gawks at the fact three men are on the ground, ignoring the girl who is knocking.

  She slowly backs away like she’s reached her crazy quota for the day, and I huff as I stand and go to the door.

  “Don’t!” Damien hisses, swiping for and missing my leg as I pass.

  I pull open the door just as Violet is turning away, and she grins over her shoulder when she looks back and sees it’s me.

  She never smiles when she sees me.

  So why is she smiling now?

  “I wasn’t expecting you today,” I tell her as she fully turns to face me.

  Her brow furrows when an obnoxious snort comes from within the house. Fucking infants.

  She glances at the Range Rover that has been abandoned at the curb, lifts a little eyebrow at me, and hands me a hideously knit bag of some sort.

  “I just wanted to stop in and say thank you for being so nice the other day,” she tells me as she puts her hand on my arm.

  I’m better prepared for a trap than them, given their warning, so I smile politely while merely glancing down at the bag.

  “You really don’t have to bring gifts, little Portocale.”

  “I like bringing gifts as a show of gratitude,” she counters, causing my eyes to narrow as she pats my arm.

  Not very seductive in her approach with me, it seems. Why am I getting different treatment?

  She turns and starts to leave, surprising me still.

  “So this was just a gift drop?” I ask as Anna hops out of the van that Violet is heading toward.

  “Told you, I just wanted to say thank you. So thank you, Vance,” she says with a smile over her shoulder before hopping into the van.

  Anna sighs beside me, her eyes raking over me as she shakes her head. “Such a waste,” she says in a tsking sound.

  She disappears and squeals inside my house about finding her two favorite pets, as Violet drives off.

  I’m sorry, but since when the actual hell do I get the short end of the straw? Why is Anna not saying something perverted about my ass or my dick for a change? Why did Violet leave me with nothing more than a friendly pat and a hideous knitting?

  “Well, I guess we rushed over here for nothing,” Damien says in an amused tone from somewhere behind me. “I forgot how maddening gypsy women can truly be,” he adds, sounding chipper.

  That fucking heartbeat of his is now mocking me.

  If she fed Emit and kissed Damien’s toxic lips, she should have at least done more than simply touch my arm in a friendly manner. After all, I’ve actually been somewhat nice to her, unlike them.

  “Unbelievable,” I mutter as I open the bag and…pull out the most spectacular pocket watch I’ve seen in ages. At least, one that I don’t already own.

  “Yee-haw!” Anna shouts as I click open the face of the timepiece, seeing the ornate silver etchings.

  “Where did she get this?” I say on a heavy breath.

  “At least yours isn’t a debt. It’s just gratitude,” Damien grumbles as he walks away.

  “Van Helsings aren’t allowed gratitude,” I remind him quietly as I back up and…pause, frowning over at the scene before me.

  Anna is in Emit’s lap as he works to keep a straight face, and she’s…spinning…saying something about a dickie-sitting-spinner.

  “I think a drink is in order at this point,” I say on another harsh breath as I turn and walk out of the room.

  Chapter 25

  VIOLET

  “So they liked the gifts?” Ace asks from beside me as we both stare up at my ceiling.

  I’m grinning for a multitude of reasons, one being the fact he’s here. The only one to show me an ounce of respect since coming here happens to be a man who died a really long time ago by ways he’s not really sure about.

  “They did. Fortunately, my grandmother’s old things are always near.”

  “I can’t believe you have access to Portocale oranges,” he groans. “I bet they’re sensational.”

  “They’re just oranges, but they are good,” I agree, inching closer as I lift one from a bowl.

  “No bruises,” he says as though he’s lost in thought as he stares at the orange in my hand.

  I start peeling it, shrugging a shoulder.

  “I pick them long before they bruise,” I explain like it should be obvious.

  “Mmm,” is his only response, still seeming lost in thought.

  He’s been here a lot the pa
st few days; noticeably, it’s only when Anna’s gone.

  “Do you have a problem with Anna?”

  “I don’t particularly like ghosts,” he informs me, causing me to snort back laughter. “They don’t particularly like me either.”

  He weirdly doesn’t say more than that on the topic.

  “Did you get your answers?” he asks me as his head turns to the side, eyes on mine.

  “I got more answers than I’ve gotten so far, but Emit finished the cookies a lot faster than expected. Damien…puts images in my head that really fuck with me when he’s too close, so I had to extract myself. But I still got some of the answers I wanted from him.”

  I try not to fan myself when I think back to both of those encounters, and end up clearing my throat a few times when I feel blush rising to all the usual places.

  “Good. Wish I could have been more help,” he says with a soft smile as he inches closer, putting our faces inches apart, as I finish up the orange and put the peelings back in the bowl.

  “You’re the only person who seems to want me to find answers, so I’d say you’ve helped a lot. Besides, Grandma always called those her bartering supplies, so I’m glad they finally have a purpose,” I say quietly, my eyes moving over his dark ones.

  “You should have carried on with Damien, since he’s restricted to being only a giver,” he states very seriously, even as he stares at my mouth like he wants to be the one kissing me.

  His hair is a little old-school—a Mr. Darcy sort of cut that doesn’t do things for me usually, but he’s a ghost. I can look past the hair if I can look past the fact he’s a ghost.

  His hand comes up, stroking my cheek with a touch I can’t feel.

  “I’ve made some progress on your vampire case,” he goes on, his hand moving down to my shoulder, slowly easing lower.

  “And?” I ask distractedly as I watch the hand I wish I could feel.

  “I’ll let you know when I have something concrete for you to take to Van Helsing, love,” he assures me with a small grin. “Now, tell me, sweet gypsy, why it is you’re single enough to go drive two out of three men and one ghost out of our minds?”

  I roll my eyes, even as I battle a little bit of a smile, because it’s really, really rare I get flattery of any sort.

  His hand travels back up to my face, making me wish I could actually feel his touch. It figures that the one guy who shows real interest in me, as something other than a simple fascination, is already dead.

  That’s just my life.

  “Right before everything happened with Mom, I’d just ended a two-year relationship,” I decide to tell him, since it’s so easy to tell him anything. Well, almost anything.

  I keep my dark secrets to myself. Even Anna thinks I’m a monster now, though she likes monsters. I don’t want him thinking the same.

  “Oh? And this lad was someone you loved?”

  My smile grows tight. “Have you ever had to keep a part of yourself hidden? So hidden that you know there’s never going to be any way to show someone else without them running away?”

  He grins. “Gypsy magic can be terrifying for mortals. Monsters, however, seem to love a little gypsy in their lives.”

  “Ha,” I state dryly. “The monsters like to study me like I’m a science experiment, and now I’m doing the same to them. I’ll stop when they do. It’s a game between us. They have zero interest in me on a true romantic level.”

  “Too bad Vance is gay. He’d be the most obvious choice for a corporeal boyfriend, eh?” he asks, seemingly amused.

  “I wouldn’t go that far. But I weirdly feel more comfortable with him, knowing he’s not interested in women,” I confess, causing his grin to only grow.

  “So this lad you ditched…what was his name?” he asks idly.

  “Jerome,” I answer on a sigh. “He wanted me to move in, but how could I explain the weird things that happen in my life? What happens when that insane cult hunts me down and he gets caught in the crosshairs? Before I could decide what to do, he actually dumped me.”

  “What?” he asks, confused as he props up, as though he can’t fathom someone dumping me.

  Again, I don’t get such flattery under normal circumstances, so I eat it up a little, while trying not to be obvious about it.

  “I wasn’t spontaneous enough, was one reason,” I say with a shrug. “It’s hard to be spontaneously sexy in some closet when you have a slightly dangerous arsenal always packed in your bra and can’t let your guard fully down. I felt responsible for his life when I was with him, and I took the responsibility serious.”

  “How do you fit so many things in that bra of yours?” he asks more seriously, though his lips twitch.

  “Very small glass vials,” I state dismissively. “The point is, unhooking my bra at random could have been bad. And when he showed up at my place, I had to kick him out if there were potions cooking on the stove. He couldn’t know I was a gypsy, and I couldn’t stop being a gypsy.”

  “We never stop being what we are, even when it’s an inconvenience,” he says as his lips touch my cheek…I think.

  Hard to tell, since there’s no sense of physical feeling.

  “You should be very glad I’m not in flesh. It’d be hard to get rid of me,” he says, back to the flattery I pretend to be used to, so I can seem cool and stuff.

  My phone rings, interrupting us, and I glance down to it.

  “That would be the Van Helsing now,” Ace says with a small grin as Vancetto Valhinseng flashes across my screen.

  I programmed the names long before I knew my best clients were monsters or a monster hunter.

  I answer, hearing Anna shouting about starting a harem in the background. I guess she’s still with the ‘pretty monsters’ who beat me to Vance’s house.

  Tattletales.

  “I can’t accept gifts of gratitude,” Vance tells me very sternly, causing my grin to grow, since that’s a weird thing to say.

  “Oh, shit. You gave him the gift as gratitude?” Ace asks, laughing as he turns his head away.

  Pressing the mute button, I explain to Ace, “I saw Emit and Damien peering through the window when I got there, so I played it by ear.”

  Ace laughs harder as I return to my call, unmuting it.

  “Why can’t you accept a gift of—”

  “It’s a Van Helsing thing. Our curse demands we kill, save, and never be thanked with any sort of token of appreciation. I can’t keep this unless you’re willing to barter, and I would like to keep it.”

  They really do like the gifts, which means Ace definitely knows his shit.

  “Hmm. I’ll think of something to trade for it.”

  “Actually, I thought about giving you a small weapon.”

  All the background noise cuts out, and Ace’s laughter ceases as well.

  “O…kay…”

  Ace clears his throat as I sit stupidly, not sure why this is apparently a big deal.

  “You’re giving her a weapon?” I hear Damien asking incredulously.

  “A small one worth more in estimated value,” Vance’s muffled voice replies.

  “There’s something special and forbidden about a Van Helsing weapon, isn’t there?” I decide to ask.

  “Only when it’s given and not stolen,” he tells me. “It’ll be the first time I’ve gifted a weapon to anyone outside of my knights.”

  I sit up a little, trying to give him my attention since this sounds big. I’ll ask about these knights when my brain isn’t already short-circuiting.

  “Just for an old pocket watch?”

  “It’s a very exquisite timepiece, and it’s a gift from a Portocale. The only justifiable gift I can give in return must match the debt, but it comes with conditions.”

  Ace exhales like that’s a good thing.

  “I’ll explain the magnitude of the gift later, but considering you’ve been attacked by vampires recently, it may not be a bad idea for you to have protection,” Vance continues.

 
I feel like I’ve accomplished something, weirdly enough. “Okay,” I say again, though this time there’s more excitement in the word.

  A Van Helsing weapon? I wonder if it’ll be a little disappearing handle-blade thingy I can tuck in my bra. He said it’d be small.

  “No more gifts. I’ve forgotten how hard it is to resist a gift from a Portocale gypsy,” Vance adds before hanging up.

  “Is there anything you can tell me about the history between gypsies and monsters?” I ask Ace as I put the phone away.

  He stands abruptly.

  “Gypsies and monsters have a very long and intertwined history. I’m afraid there are some secrets not even I can divulge,” he tells me idly. “I should go do more recon work on the vampire situation.”

  He’s gone before I can argue, and I drop to the bed, trying to figure out how I started falling for a ghost. Though, I have to admit, he gives exceptional advice on monsters and their weaknesses.

  “You have your smitten face,” Anna says, causing me to startle on the bed when she appears beside me. “I missed your ghost boyfriend again, I suppose,” she adds on a sigh.

  “Yes. You did. How was your day with the pretty monsters?” I ask her on a smile.

  “We went to Disney World,” she says wistfully.

  “Of course you did,” I tell her as I stand and start to head to the bathroom so I can privately enjoy my musings about another ghost.

  “Is it true that ghosts grow entirely lucid when they possess a body, even if they’ve started the final decay?” she asks seriously.

  Pausing, I turn and look over my shoulder.

  “What makes you ask that?”

  “There was a set of dead triplets who showed up at Disney World and told me as much when I was trying to possess a woman to have fun with the wolf man.”

  “You’re too far into the disease to possess someone unless they’re willingly possessed, and it’s wrong to just try to take someone’s body. You’re dead, Anna. Don’t hurt the living just because you’re not happy about it.”

  She mocks a gasp. “Harsh.”

  “You got real with me about my ribbon girl theory and made me face up to being a monster. This is me returning the favor and pointing out your reality.”