Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters Book 6)

by Kristy Cunning

  I whirl around, finding nothing behind me. Just as I start to turn back around, I spot a small, barely noticeable bit of salt on the floor.

  They can’t even be considered grains of salt. It’s damn near powdered crystals. My gaze darts around, and I narrow my eyes over at the salt once more.

  Bristling and feeling a bit uneasy, I turn my attention back to the screen.

  “Emit’s saved them, right? Or they’ve just been scared silent? Are they being killed?” Shera asks, sounding damn near concerned for wolves, as she presses closer to the window.

  The whole world’s gone mad.

  “You’re not going to see all the way to the Morrigan residence from that window, Shera. Does overwhelming fear make you stupid?” I ask, finally finding the footage I’ve been searching for.

  Smirk.

  In the next second, no smirk.

  I back the footage up a couple of seconds, watching as Idun crashes into Violet’s body.

  That’s when Violet smirks.

  When Idun sails backwards, the smirk is immediately wiped away, and Violet doesn’t look smug anymore; she looks angry. But it’s not even directed at Idun. I can’t see where it’s directed, but it’s in another direction from Idun.

  Fucking hell. Who was she looking at?

  The screen suddenly flips, as though someone else is controlling the damn thing.

  Idun’s face comes over the screen, and she’s holding a picture of Violet.

  A smile is on the devil’s lips, as she stares directly into the camera.

  “Attention, fans, followers, and pathetic wastes of life. In the next hour, I’ll be expecting this pointless little girl to be delivered to me. If she’s not, then I’ll kill one hundred omegas from every flock, and no less than fifty betas. If I have to wait another hour, those numbers will double,” she says, her eyes lethal and cold, as the smile slowly slips.

  “If you find this unfair, don’t worry. The girl’s a fucking daft idiot. All you have to do is tell her who is keeping me company while I wait, and she’ll come to me all on her own,” she says.

  The camera pans to…fucking Tom.

  He was supposed to be locked up in Sanctuary.

  “I swear Avery said he was taking him to the cellar with the others, Boss,” Shera whispers, her breath fogging the icy room we’re standing in.

  My stomach sinks. Tom’s face is barely recognizable—swollen and bruised. His head is hanging low, and he’s chained to the wall.

  “For every second I have to wait—”

  The wall next to her blows apart, and dust sprays all across the screen, as Vance Van Helsing crashes into the room, looking like one very pissed off silversmith.

  Idun actually startles, and she whirls around to face him, while claws immediately extend.

  “Thank you for breaking the fucking law in such a spectacular way,” Vance bites out. “You attacked a human, Idun. Now who’s the fool?”

  “You dare stand against me? Careful, Vancetto, you don’t look so good. I bet it must have been miserable to be frozen solid. I’ve given Pandora several magical articles to siphon magic from. Magic she can have some real fun with,” she gloats, her grin growing more and more genuine, as excitement lights her eyes.

  “This is bad. This really, really bad,” Shera says from behind me, trembling so hard that I can hear her bones rattling.

  “Thank you for constantly pointing out the obvious,” I state with a droll tone, exhaling an angry breath.

  Fucking stupid, pompous, overreaching Van Helsing.

  “No problem, Alpha,” Shera says after a loud swallow, a full-body tremble following her comment, as her wide eyes remain fixed to the screen.

  Vance cries out in near surprise, as Idun’s dark laughter floats through the room. My throat feels frozen, and I grab it with both hands, clawing at whatever is burning against it.

  “The fuck?” I manage to hiss.

  Shera’s eyes widen on me, and she immediately rushes out.

  I drop to my knees, same as Vance. Just like me, he chokes and wheezes. Only he’s not sizzling and burning.

  It takes me a moment to realize Van Helsing silver is spreading up my throat.

  “It’s called an insurance policy,” Idun says through a growing grin. “I know you’re strong, Vance. I commend you for your efforts, because you’ve grown so much over these past centuries, despite your watered-down power—the byproduct of your shallow sacrifice. There was a time I had to water down Arion’s strength just so he wouldn’t effortlessly destroy you and break all your precious pride. Maybe you could even challenge me these days, though it’d be pointless,” she says, her smile beaming brighter and brighter the longer she speaks.

  The burn spreads deeper through me, and I catch myself from smacking the floor with just one hand. My other hand is clawing at the growing silver, trying to stop it.

  “Pandora didn’t just capture you for the sake of burying you. In the unlikely event you were rescued, she also placed a curse on you. Anyone you’ve come into contact with since your return will suffer the same consequences. I’m not much of one to play guessing games, but if I had to wager a bet, my money would be on the fact you’ve encountered at least the other three boyfriends of mine, who never could understand their places. Even Arion. He liked blowing smoke up my ass and simpering along behind me, begging for my scraps, while desperately starved for my attention. What sort of woman would I be if I respected a monster like that? Then he has the audacity to act like an alpha with that little whore?”

  Fucking. Bitch.

  My skin sizzles that much harder, as the silver quickly spreads lower.

  Shera comes rushing back in, and what feels to be five gallons of cold water is suddenly splashing against me. Isiah comes running up, and he tosses a large tote of blood onto me.

  The combination is soothing to the burns, but the sizzling continues, and the silver doesn’t stop spreading.

  “You keep drenching him in blood. I’m going to see if I can find something in the books on this, or maybe I should call Leiza,” Shera rambles, sounding panicked. “She knows more about Van Helsing silver and curses than any of us.”

  She rushes out, leaving me with the panicking, clumsy Isiah in her absence.

  Isiah quickly goes to grab more blood, making a racket upstairs, as he shouts orders.

  The steel door slams, sealing off a lot of the chatter, and the bolt clangs into place, as though someone has just locked themselves in with me. There’s a heavy banging that follows, along with some of Isiah’s muffled shouts.

  I barely manage to turn my neck enough to find Talbot Lane strolling toward me, leisurely moving down the stairs, as he twirls a pocket-watch.

  My fangs bare, but he doesn’t back away or show fear, as he continues to approach, taking the last step.

  The banging continues with more frenzy above, as my betas start ramming the nearly impenetrable door.

  It’s been locked from the inside, which means the codes won’t work on the outside. If a fucking incubus kills me during a battle this thick, while I’m downed by some random curse, I’ll never hear the end of it.

  “It seems I have a problem I can’t solve all on my own.” He pauses and stares down at me with an arched eyebrow. “Which is why I’m here to help, even though I don’t particularly like you. This is going to hurt like hell. Try not to bite me,” he says as he crouches before me and places a hand on my shoulder.

  I almost attempt to lunge for his throat, just for making no sense and being entirely too suspicious, but I end up hissing in pain. My nails stab and break the concrete beneath me, as my blood begins to boil inside my veins so hot that it’s damn near unbearable.

  “What the fuck?” I manage to say between clenched teeth.

  “I’m reversing the curse. Pandora is crafty, but she’s no match for me, because my magic is far from dried up. She lived on many borrowed years before she found a way to secure immortality and everlasting youth,” he says as though that�
��s somehow an answer.

  “You’re a blood witch?” I say through a sneer.

  He gives me a dead look. “I was born a blood witch. My mother convinced me to become a monster. I chose the monster that suited me best. Honestly, it’s not a choice I regret. I’ve seen the world spin in forty thousand directions, and watched the world evolve/devolve at a magnificent rate.”

  He steps back, as the burning continues. Vance makes a pained sound, and I watch with rapt attention, as the pain in my veins intensifies.

  “Looks like it’s working. I used you as a conduit to link to the others. You share a bond so strong that not even war, despair, greed, violence, and utter destruction has kept you apart.”

  Idun’s smile starts to slip, as she stares at the silver that’s slowly receding from Vance’s body. She takes a step back, as a chilling expression creases her features.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I ask Talbot, while my dizzy vision spots the young triplets in the corner.

  The three of them look on with matching dark expressions on their faces. Talbot follows my gaze to them, and as one, they dart a look to him, as a sinister grin curves their lips.

  “I’m someone who can combat Pandora. Utilize me instead of plotting my demise, and you may just have a chance to survive this night,” he answers.

  He clears his throat as though it’s a nervous habit, and he takes a few steps away from the triplets.

  “Silly vampire. The incubus has been playing pretend,” the triplets state in perfect unison.

  “What do you want?” I ask Talbot, just waiting for the opportunity to remove his head.

  He cuts his eyes toward me. “The same thing you all want. I want the wars to finally end. I have no idea what’s about to happen, or how many will die, but I do know one thing.”

  “What’s that, pretend incubus?” the triplets ask.

  He slants his gaze in their direction.

  “January Violet Carmine can’t see ghosts,” he says with zero hesitation.

  That niggling thought from earlier hits me, and Shera’s words once again echo through my head.

  The sheer volume of ghosts in this town…

  Violet only sees some of them…

  It lines up with the confusing direction my head was already headed toward, but what are they if not ghosts?

  They can’t all be various projections. It’s too hard to project in today’s world. The mind almost has to be pure to do it.

  That chill rides all the way up my spine, and I stare at the triplets, as it all finally falls into place. Only it’s still too jumbled.

  Nope. Never mind. It doesn’t make sense.

  The triplets grin.

  “Well done, pretend incubus. You can live,” they state before they disappear like that’s all they wanted.

  “Talbot, you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on, or I’m going to torture you for no less than ten years,” I tell him very seriously.

  He crouches in front of me again, tilting his head to meet my eyes.

  “Eight hundred years ago, I got entirely too drunk and did something stupid that has caused me nothing but grief and trouble,” he says as he pulls his shirt to the side, revealing his skin.

  He slides a hand over his chest, and then a hum rattles the air. Before my eyes, a very familiar symbol becomes more and more visible, like a tattoo gradually surfacing from the buried depths.

  My eyes widen marginally when I see the infinity symbol…

  “This symbol—its meaning—is the reason Pandora became obsessed with the quest for immortality. It’s irrelevant, honestly. Now she’s simply deranged and maddened from the depths she’s personally stooped to, all to stay young and beautiful for all eternity. It’s destroyed her mind and left it nothing more than scattered pieces,” he says too casually.

  My breaths stay frozen in my lungs, while my mind tries and fails to process what he’s saying.

  “I’m afraid a barrel of rum got the better of me one unforgettable night, and I found myself in a dark and depressed stage in my life fairly soon after I’d been turned into an incubus. I’d only been a monster for fifty or so years, and already I felt like I’d lived too long and seen too much. It was all entirely too predictable, and nothing ever surprised me. No one ever surprised me. Nothing different happened, aside from opinions changing about what is or isn’t right or wrong. When I returned home, staggering and furious at the entire mess my mother had helped create, there was a box waiting on my bed.”

  My gaze moves from the infinity symbol on his chest up to his flat, lifeless eyes.

  “So I did what any angry, drunken mess would do when he’s sick of everything staying the same with nothing ever changing.”

  “You opened the box,” I say, my eyes narrowing.

  “Of course I opened the fucking box. I wanted something new and exciting, and I was blitzed enough to not care about the consequences in the event all of it went wrong, which is undeniably what happened. I was careless with the entire altar ceremony, and it’s been an eternal game of chase ever since. Luckily for me, there was only one monster in my box instead of seven.”

  “Who got the monster?” I ask him, grinding the words out.

  “Doesn’t matter. At least, not anymore. What does matter is the fact that it always finds a potion-mixer or chemist to attach itself to, and then usually convinces them they’ve done it to themselves with a botched experiment or potion,” he says, not making a damn bit of sense. “Until Violet. It did most everything different with her.”

  “What do you mean Violet can’t see ghosts? What do you mean until Violet?” I ask, as he continues staring at me as though he’s waiting for me to figure it out for myself.

  “You’ve only visibly witnessed Violet’s monster a few times, but it was too subtle to realize what you were seeing. The other times you’ve seen it, it’s been in the abstract—almost like an illusion. It’s certainly not that puny thing you watched, mocked, and judged in the woods rather recently. That’s simply the monster she was born with.”

  “What the hell are you saying?” I snap, too impatient to put up with his nonsense.

  He shrugs a shoulder. “What I’m saying is that Violet’s carrying around the monster, who has been a thorn in my eternal side since the day I made the mistake of creating it. All my best ideas come to me when I’m drunk, as you now know,” he says with a cheeky grin and tired eyes.

  He leans closer, as the pain continues.

  I can’t see Idun TV, and I have no idea what’s going on around me.

  “Since we have a while, let me tell you a story, Vampyre. With any luck, you’re smart enough to listen to what I have to say. It’s about a spirit that will give you many unassuming names. But the only name I’ve ever given it is the one that suited it best, since it cloaks its true nature, while it manipulates and courts the host by giving them all their darkest, most desperate desires. That monster doesn’t remember me—it forgets its past lives—but it feels the familiarity. Since I made myself known in Shadow Hills, it has taken an interest in me. It morphs, changes, and becomes the monster of the host body, unlike any of your monsters. Only, this is the first time I’ve ever been able to see it without it possessing the host body, because, like all monsters, it can only reside in the host’s subconscious.”

  He pauses, as though he’s letting the suspense mount.

  “Who is Anna?” I bite out.

  “Who are they all?” he whispers, mocking a conspiratorial tone.

  He gives me a wink.

  “As I said, Violet can’t see ghosts. It’s not just Anna,” he tells me very deliberately. “Their individual names are of no consequence, because all of them are simply one of the many alarming sections of Violet’s convoluted mind, Vampyre. They hide in plain sight, misleading the eye and the mind with ease, because you trust your senses too much.”

  “None of that makes any sense,” I point out, sick of the madman’s ravings.

  “Of course it does—once
you realize they all share one name. A soulless monster, much like yours, with a name as notorious as your own surname.” With a smirk, he adds, “They’ve only recently discovered their true name, thanks to Violet’s relentless quest of self-discovery. Now the monster is starting to remember. It should be quite the show.”

  As soon as I’m free, I’m removing his head and finding out if he’s truly immortal or not. Then, if he is, I’ll probably do it again.

  "If you don't give me the name, I'm going to peel your skin from your body," I assure the daft fool.

  He gives me a small, humorless smile. "Hyde."

  Chapter 40

  VANCE

  Tom’s head lifts enough to shoot me a sympathetic look, despite his bruised and swollen face, as the silver stifles my lungs much quicker than the last time. Idun continues laughing, as the world around me turns too fast for me to keep up.

  “At this very moment, my allies are raiding the home with your girlfriend, because they knew I’d have ultimatums. They’ll bring me Damien after he’s a block of silver,” Idun tells me, as something deep inside me turns warm.

  My arms drop, the silver forcing them down, as Idun taunts me.

  “Emit will shrivel into an eternal vat of misery, since your silver hurts him the worst. Nasty little curse, isn’t it? It’ll trigger every time you attempt to take up arms against me, and I’ll control when you’re set free,” Idun carries on.

  She touches the damning necklace on her chest, her grin spreading wider. “And now that I have this back, I can curse each and every one of you whenever I bloody want,” she says, adding that last part with sinister malice.

  “Did you really think its power had been diluted? You didn’t even know it was a source of power to begin with. And Arion only knows what I allowed him to know. I knew he’d turn against me one day. Deep down, he’s as weak as all of you.”

  She drags her claws across the wall, coming closer. I’m not sure what’s happening, but searing pain, different from the choking pain, attacks from my core and begins working its way outward.

  The silver stops spreading abruptly, and very slowly, it begins receding, even as the pain burns on.