Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters Book 6)

by Kristy Cunning

  I feel myself soften when I see the innocent, happy, and pure look in Arion’s expressions, as he talks animatedly to the guys.

  Subtitles would so be awesome right now.

  Emit laughs, the sound booming from his throat, as Vance and Damien laugh a little quieter at whatever Arion has said. I find myself smiling like an idiot just witnessing them this way.

  I go to kneel beside them, idly noticing the Portocales from the earlier vision seeming more at peace on this night.

  Vance starts talking about something, and Arion shakes his head, while giving them a dry look. They all start laughing, seemingly at him, but he smiles to himself as though it’s all in good humor.

  I get caught up in the moment, staying for far too long, before finally standing and straddling Vance’s lap. His eyes are so young here. Despite all the struggles they were having, he seems so happy here.

  “Vance!” I shout, wondering how exactly to break a man from a trance.

  Given his agreeable mood, this seems like the best chance I’ve seen so far.

  Pressing my lips to his just ends up with me groaning in disappointment, because he talks, never noticing the kiss. So much for true love’s kiss having ultimate power and stuff.

  True love’s kiss is more of a fairy tale setting. I suppose it’s stupid to place it in a monster story.

  Getting out of his lap, I dance, I sing, and I do a ton of other ridiculous things to get his attention. I even start unzipping my terrible one-piece jumper, only…to remember…Damien left me commando under this thing.

  I glare over at Damien, but then I feel my whole body soften when I see him staring down at his drink, his smile forced. He glances over to where Dorian is sitting off by himself, slumped over.

  He says something to the guys, before he gets up to go sit by Dorian, but the image begins to ripple in warning.

  Quickly, I grab a log from the fire to see if I can somehow use it to jar—

  Nope.

  Not happening.

  Grunting and straining, I lift with all my might, but the log may as well be cemented in place.

  “So I can trip over dead bodies, hurt myself, and touch things, but picking them up is out of the question. Got it. A rule book would be nice,” I grumble, just as the image disappears altogether.

  Another gathering slowly takes place of the old one, but I don’t bother trying to get Vance’s attention in this one. I’m starting to get irritated at this point.

  Maybe finishing the song first will help?

  That’s so stupid that it can’t possibly work.

  All the other curses were way easier to break. All I had to do was bind myself to Emit, and apparently that was enough. Come to think of it, that may only work so long as his marks remain, and it’s undetermined how permanent they are.

  Not important at the moment.

  How can I get myself in danger in here, if I can’t even get Vance’s attention? Hopefully, once I find a way to break him from the trance, he’ll have some ideas. Because this one is too smart for me.

  Sitting down, I decide to ride out these memories, because it’s the safest time to attempt to gain his attention. I’m not sure what happens if I ‘die’ in here, so it’s best if he’s not carrying a pointed object.

  Besides, it’s nice seeing the men who existed once upon a time. They’re not the same men anymore.

  It’s sort of like reading their diary, but they’ve all spied through my window, or crossed some other major personal boundary. My wrong will just cancel out their wrong or something.

  The point is, they sure as hell can’t get mad or judge.

  Chapter 15

  EMIT

  “I’m saying you’re a fucking fool if you think this is going to end well for any of us,” I tell Arion, exhaling harshly.

  “Maybe she won’t see the worst of them,” Damien groans, putting his arm over his eyes.

  Thirty minutes.

  Thirty minutes she’s been crying, off and on. For the last five minutes, she’s done nothing but smile.

  “But look at that fucking grin,” Arion says in argument, poking at the upturned corner of her mouth. “Maybe she’s secretly a sadist and all the ‘monstrous’ stuff turns her heart to goo when she thinks no one is watching,” he suggests.

  “I have no idea what would have her smiling that big for that long,” Damien notes, talking before I can, as he arches a curious eyebrow.

  His gaze is fixed to Violet, who smiles even larger.

  “Time moves faster and covers a lot of ground, given the fact he lives a lifetime of memories,” Damien adds, almost sounding suspicious. “Nothing was ever that good for very long. The vampire may be onto something.”

  Scrubbing both hands over my face, I stand and stalk out, before I beat them both to hell for being idiots.

  I kept my mouth shut and let Arion goad Damien into this shit. Not once did I ever imagine she’d make it inside Vance’s mind, let alone get stuck in that hell.

  I underestimated Damien.

  I’ve played it safe for so long that I’ve stopped understanding what the word safe means, since I’m underestimating people so often.

  “We’re too old to be this fucking stupid,” I say over my shoulder.

  “Agreed,” they both mumble.

  I glance back when I finally reach the fucking door, only to turn and see Arion pressing his forehead to Violet’s.

  “What the hell are you doing, Vampyre?” I ask on a tired sigh.

  “Trying like hell to at least give her comfort. She’s going to be my bride, and I don’t want her leaving that place too jaded to remember that.”

  I’m not sure why she’s smiling, but I know she must be filled with torment by now. Our past isn’t even a little bit pretty.

  Chapter 16

  VIOLET

  Leaning my head back, I laugh until my stomach hurts. At what? Who knows. This place doesn’t have helpful subtitles, so I don’t understand any of the jokes.

  However, their laughter is so contagious, because I’ve never heard them laugh so freely.

  They’re drunk in this memory, toasting and cheering. It’s a beautiful sight to see, and they’re so happy that I can’t help but be infected. I’ll have to ask for details later.

  As for my mission? I give up.

  Waking Vance from this trance is impossible. I’ve tried absolutely everything I can think of.

  I even did a sexy crawl across the ground, pretending I was Catwoman the entire time, given my outrageous leather outfit. I meowed.

  I meowed at Vancetto Van Helsing.

  I’m really glad he didn’t see that. It wouldn’t be so embarrassing in front of Damien, but it’d be mortifying in front of Vance.

  I half wonder if he’s even seeing the memories I am.

  I’m guessing that could be the issue, since I came in and decided to control the memories like I had some right.

  Taking a deep breath, I turn away from the fun party, and sing the next line, even as I dread it with everything in me. Still, I want to know more, and since I can’t do what I came to do, I may as well learn what I can while I have this opportunity.

  “Five gypsy families for one sacrifice.”

  The wind sputters at my back, before it funnels toward me at outrageous speeds, and the air is filled with howls that echo through the thick, dark, somewhat horrifying crime scene I’ve landed amongst.

  Screams pierce my ears, and my breath seizes in my lungs, just as something wet and warm slaps my face.

  Blood.

  Definitely blood.

  I tremble, staring directly at Arion, who rips a heart clean out of someone’s chest. The dead man drops to the ground, as the gentle man I saw through so many memories just moments ago proves to be lost by this night.

  The vampire grins as he lifts the heart and lets the blood trickle into his open mouth, and shouts to the skies in fury.

  My stomach roils, because these were my mother’s people. Her family. The ones she
loved so dearly that she spent her eternal invested in their revenge.

  I shouldn’t be watching this.

  Knowing the story is enough. I don’t need a visual.

  “Four gypsy families torn apart.”

  It takes a few seconds longer, and I’m forced to watch as Arion turns, five knives strapped on his fingers, and finds an array of targets. With a dark grin, he begins slicing through necks almost effortlessly, moving fast and efficiently, never hesitating.

  A chill rides up my spine, but the scene fortunately changes, just as he nears me.

  Before the image can blur too much, I watch his attention turn toward my direction, and either by accident or coincidence, our gazes meet and hold.

  His pupils dilate, and I’m half certain he sees me. In the next instant, I’m more convinced someone behind me was about to die or something, because that’s impossible.

  Arion’s mind isn’t in here. It had to be something else.

  I land in a bank of memories that once again break my heart, when I see the men who were so closely bonded suddenly battling with everything in them against each other over fields of corpses.

  A whole lot of mass graves lie in their past.

  It seems to take up the majority of the song.

  “Three gypsy families turned cold of heart.”

  The scene shifts to an icy room full of hiding Simpletons, four Portocales, and a lot of fangs-bared vampires.

  History explained down to the gist.

  “Two gypsy families couldn’t back down.”

  In the next instant, I see a man I don’t recognize, which means he must be a Portocale, since he’s going head-to-head with Idun. There’s only one type of alpha who doesn’t get to keep the same face upon reincarnation.

  I stumble back when Idun’s monster suddenly emerges, her body distorting into some mutant-looking humanoid creature. Nails extend, her dress rips, and her entire body turns leaner and more defined as it grows.

  It’s so abrupt and unexpected that I don’t even know how to react to the sight of it.

  Her eye-sockets stretch wider than her eyes, which leaves them only tethered by the nerves there. Her eyelids disappear, as the black sockets glisten, almost creating a hollow shadow. Her mouth stretches wider, and a lot of sharp teeth start protruding.

  Her next step is taken with a hideously monstrous foot, which has claws on it as well.

  Jurassic Park floats through my mind. She reminds me of a demonic, humanoid attempt at a raptor, only with longer arms, standing more upright, and no tail.

  Oh, and a lot more claws.

  Possibly bigger teeth.

  So…she looks nothing like a raptor, but my head is in a frenzy, because she is definitely intimidating. And gives off the terrifying alien vibe.

  It’s not like the other monsters I’ve seen. She’s not a pretty monster at all.

  The man staggers, eyes wide as though he’s seeing it for the first time as well. Her monster grins, showing off more of those terrifying teeth, as a growl bubbles in her chest.

  In the next instant, she moves so fast I miss the motion. One second she’s standing in front of me, and the next, she’s standing behind the man.

  Like a horror movie, I watch in stunned silence as his head slowly slides off his neck and thuds to the floor, bouncing and rolling, eyes frozen open in the same shock.

  My breaths come out shaky, as Idun smoothly morphs back into her delicate, feminine body. She’s naked as she moves through the room, licking blood off her fingertips, as she smugly smiles down at the man.

  I bet that’s Edmond.

  Awful as he seems to be, he did love Caroline. Watching her suffer all those years had to provoke the prideful man in him at some point.

  This may have been that point.

  Idun’s too fast and too strong for even an alpha.

  “One gypsy family went underground.”

  As the world changes, my heart skips a beat, because I watch as three out of four of my monsters battle against Idun.

  With one arm missing, Idun’s monster rages, but Vance is quick enough to avoid a deadly strike. Barely.

  I watch with dread in my stomach, as Damien does something, clearly wielding an illusion I can’t see, since Idun struggles to find them in the next instant.

  He shouts something. If I had to guess, he’s telling them to hurry the hell up.

  Damien drops to a knee, concentration and strain etching his features, as he struggles to hold the illusion.

  I know the outcome, and I’m still desperately hanging onto the metaphorical edge of my seat in angsty suspense.

  Fear.

  She feasts on fear, and the Simpletons are empathic. All that fear that was rolling off them in droves was constantly feeding her, and still is. They have powerful alpha blood, which only generates a nuclear battery for her.

  That’s what they meant when they said her House made her too strong.

  I just separated them, but they still tremble in fear at the mention of her name.

  Until this moment, I didn’t realize how much that changed. I assumed it was all tied to bloodlines, since that’s of so much importance. I assumed it may also have to do with the cosmic laws they’ve written and abided by.

  I never considered the fact it had to do with the Simpletons themselves, and all the fear they constantly feed her. She just needs close. She doesn’t have to be in the same room, or even in the same town.

  Forcing myself away from the distraction, I take in the scene as a whole once more.

  “So you feed off the fear you create, and it’s strongest when they fear you. That’s how you got so powerful. You need the Simpletons to fear you. But how did you rise, Idun? I didn’t fear you. You creep me out and give me hesitance, and occasionally a small bit of apprehension, but only since you surfaced. The only thing I truly feared was loving them and losing them to you,” I murmur to myself, tapping my chin. “If their fear is your source of power, how did I help raise you? I didn’t even know to fear you when I first came to town.”

  That video was time-stamped. I didn’t know Idun existed that day. There has to be more I’m missing.

  I cut my gaze away, unable to watch the rest, since she’s getting in more punches than I expected. The guys are cut to death and ragged, barely able to shove her back even an inch.

  This looks to have taken the last bit of everything they had in them, during that time.

  “You were broken, just like everyone else in the world, and instead of piecing yourself together, you got angry. You got vengeful. And you got really fucking cold, even if you are a hot head,” I continue, narrowing my eyes. “But how did you rise if fear is the connection to your power? Putting them underground, safely entombed, and ensured you would stay under as long as they did…all that should have watered down their fear. You shouldn’t have been strong enough to break through those barriers, especially severed in several pieces. Not even you’re that strong.”

  My gaze drifts to where I spot Arion, lurking in the shadows, staring on with a blank expression on his face. He pockets a necklace and turns to walk away, never looking back.

  “Forever is such a long time to bleed,” I sing, feeling the wind stir as the image changes.

  I’m suddenly in Damien’s home, watching as mirrors reflect him moving toward me. His eyes are dull, flat, and completely devoid of any emotion at all, as he staggers, wasted on someone’s gypsy spice.

  The scent isn’t mine or my mother’s, so he used to have another supplier.

  I’m immediately transported to another image of Arion, as he moves through his own home, blood dripping from his lips, fury in his eyes, along with some sadistic satisfaction of some sort.

  That’s not his blood, and Damien wasn’t bleeding either. Does that mean the ‘bleed’ part song is metaphorical?

  I’m going to have a headache once I get back to my own body.

  A vision of Emit is next, as he covers his face, downed to one knee, while a mutiny occ
urs. He doesn’t even fight back, as they slice through his neck at last.

  I’m forced to cut my gaze away, a cry escaping me, when the sight hits me harder than I was expecting. The taste of bile assaults my mouth, but the next image rolls into focus, settling on Vance.

  Even as tears burn my eyes from the short clip of Emit, Vance’s breaks my heart.

  He’s shouting to the sky, rage carrying his voice louder than I’ve ever heard it, all while he’s on his knees with his own tears teeming in his eyes.

  “Worst are the gypsies brought to their knees,” I whisper.

  Instead of changing, the image stays the same. Briefly.

  From one second to the next, the images begin fluttering past so rapidly that I barely see them.

  In every frame, I witness one or more alphas on their knees. There’s only one I never see brought to theirs.

  That’s Idun.

  Obviously.

  “Sing, gypsies, sing of your lies.”

  My brow furrows when I see the original Portocales in the same room as all the guys and Idun, no one looking particularly stabby, as they all sign a book of some sort.

  Idun smiles, and the guys smirk. The Portocales glare a little, but they nod as though something has been understood between them.

  “Idun’s the perfect storm. The first-born was dead before the night of the sacrifice, leaving her to bear first-born obligations as the appointed head of the family’s future. That’s the reason there are two types of monsters under one name,” I murmur to myself, piecing things together from one frame to the next, after a lot of days on this journey.

  Without a doubt, it’s been at least three days. I feel like shit for not being able to pull this off, but I’ve certainly learned more than I expected to learn.

  “But Bobo was the strongest, until Idun learned she could feed on fear,” I guess, based on what each scene drops a wordless clue to. “He was just too gentle to do anything about her, because it goes against everything he stands for. He killed children, and he never forgave himself. He never could stand up to her.”

  Bobo is hiding in a room, sad eyes cast downward, as the scene flashes to one of Idun shoving Caroline in that horrid torture chair, before readying her science-experiment tools.