Home > Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(3)

Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)(3)
Author: Kristy Cunning

“The gypsy’s pride song…is it a real thing?” she asks abruptly, turning her gaze on me.

My amusement disappears with that question.

“Take that as a yes,” one of the little girls tells her.

“What does it mean when it says ‘the apples have all rotted; the oranges just bruised?’” she continues, staring expectantly at me as I park us in front of her house.

“It means a lot of things. The simplest version is the literal one. You’re a Portocale. Surely you’ve noticed your family oranges grow bruised with bitter spots. It makes enjoying them a much more tedious process when you have to cut out the large bitter portions.”

Her lips purse. “Every Portocale has this issue?”

“Every Portocale. Didn’t your mother explain that when you started growing them?” I ask her, not mentioning how much I like them and want them even if they are bitter, because it’s been too long. But it’s not my turn to make it about me yet. “And the song just plays into how it all came to be. Why are you asking this?”

“It seems more and more like Mom left out a lot of crucial information about who I am, including the fact I’m a gypsy freak.” She shakes her head and releases an audible breath. “You can take the van if you need to.”

“I can walk, but why are you asking about that song right now?” I ask again, eyes narrowing.

“No reason,” she says as she clears her throat and pushes open the door.

“Deuces,” Anna says before throwing up two fingers—the wrong two fingers for that expression, I should add—and butting the sides of her fists together before she disappears.

I watch as all the ghosts go into the house behind Violet, and I slip out of the van. Knowing it’d be pointless to try to slink in, I walk around to the side of her house, glance around to ensure no one can see me too well from this angle, and quickly climb up the bricks.

It’s a pain in the ass to hold myself up with such a little groove over the bricks, but I manage to grip onto her window’s ledge and pull myself up just enough to see into her window.

After all, Vance said I was the only one in the wrong for entering her house and that peeking through windows was okay.

The sound of a man’s voice in her house causes my jaw to grind, because that is not okay.

“Violet, are you okay? It’s not Tuesday.”

“I know it’s not Tuesday; I’m not calling to check in. I have a question,” she says, causing me to tilt my head when I realize he’s just on the phone.

Who the hell is she talking to? The telltale sounds of construction are muffled in the background of the call.

“I never really have any of these answers, you know,” he tells her. “But as always, I’ll give it my best shot.”

“Did Mom ever explain the Gypsy’s Pride song to you?”

I can tell by the way he hesitates to answer that Marta likely did say something to him, and I’m assuming this must be Violet’s father she’s speaking to.

Violet stares blankly at the wall when he takes too long to answer.

“Shit, sweetie. I don’t think so, but I’ve got to go. One of my guys just sawed his damn thumb off,” he tells her.

I strain, definitely hearing someone shouting in the background, but I can’t make it out enough to know if he’s lying, stalling, or simply telling the truth. I could be mistaking hesitation for distraction.

“Fine. I’ll call you—”

The phone goes dead, and she gives a sad smile as she finishes her sentence. “—Tuesday to check in. Bye, Dad. Love you.”

The look on her face is more dejected than bitter, as she tosses her phone aside. Then she curls into a small ball on her bed with her back to me, as the ghosts chatter from somewhere beyond the door.

I’m curious if he even has a clue that her world has just exploded with all the scary or unknown things that go bump in the night.

I wonder what Vance will do to me if I beat her father to a state of apology as payment for the mirror.

Armed with a plan, I decide to go see if he’s finished fucking up Arion’s face yet.

Dropping to the ground, I move quickly, shielding myself with an illusion to make myself invisible.

Vance’s car is gone from Arion’s house when I reach the front, and the massive front door has been left in shambles on the front steps.

Some of Arion’s lackies are cleaning it up, and I stay invisible as I move through the rubble and quickly change direction to the Van Helsing home. It doesn’t take me too long to race across the town.

Margie answers the door, and I edge by her as she peers around to see who just rang the doorbell.

She huffs out a breath before muttering, “Damn kids.”

I quickly shuffle up the stairs to where I can smell the Van Helsing’s blood.

When I push open the door and turn visible, Vance peers up at me, while sitting on the bench at the end of his bed. He’s holding an ice pack against the side of his face, and I glance over his shirt, seeing multiple stabs and nicks as blood pours from his many wounds.

“This is the part where you say something about how I should see the other guy,” I tell him, eyebrows up in shock.

I mean, he likes that shirt, and he’s bleeding all over it. And it has rips in it. How is he not having a tantrum?

“The other guy looks a lot better than me,” he bites out as he makes a pained sound and pushes to his feet.

“Since when is a vampire able to kick a Van Helsing’s ass after being underground for a century?” I ask, not really believing what I’m seeing as he hobbles toward some sort of silver container on his dresser.

“It’s like he knew every move I was going to make before I made it—”

“That’s more your thing than his, normally,” I decide to point out.

He glares over at me with the one eye he has that isn’t swollen shut, as he puts the ice pack down.

Shit, his face looks like hell.

He opens the silver container, and an incredible scent wafts through the room. When a perfectly round, reddish tinted orange is picked up and tossed to me, I scramble to catch it, juggling it, worried it’s about to turn to mush in my hands.

But it doesn’t. It’s firm and…perfect.

“Where the hell did you find this?” I ask him as I stare down in awe at the impossibly perfect Portocale orange.

“Arion tossed it to me like a prize after he threw me out of his house and told me to return with more gypsy respect. Then he said things were changing,” he grinds out.

He spits blood out of his mouth, and I consider stealing his orange. He’s had his ass thoroughly beaten, so it’s not like he’ll—

“Take the orange,” he tells me dismissively like he can read my head.

“I can’t be in debt to you,” I immediately growl.

“You’d be in debt to Arion. Not me.”

“Then hell no,” I say on a reluctant sigh as I toss the orange back to him.

“Or you can put yourself more in debt to the Portocale after you return it to her and ask her to gift it back,” he says as he tosses it back to me.

I pocket the orange with that, replaying the conversation about the oranges I had with Violet before coming here.

That secretive little gypsy.

“Violet mentioned prideless gypsies being drawn to those with their pride still intact, with the intent of making them fall.”

His gaze swings over to me as he shrugs. “Sounds like a Portocale.”

“She only knows what her mother told her,” I go on. “Her mother apparently never told her that the prideless are drawn to the prideful when the prideful have dirty little secrets.”

“This is not news. She’s packed full of secrets, one being the oranges,” he growls. “Arion is a much bigger concern at the moment, don’t you think?”

The note of sarcasm in his tone makes me think he believes that’s a rhetorical question.

“Arion is a Van Helsing problem. Not mine,” I remind him before vanishing from his sight.

“Don’t tell Emit he’s back yet. Leave that to me,” he says, looking around the room like he’s searching for a sign I’m still in here.

I slip out the crack and shut the door behind me, letting him know I heard his order.

He curses and something breaks as I leave. I suppose now he’s finally having his tantrum.

What happens to Shadow Hills when the bitter, vengeful vampire with no soul is kicking the ass of the resident Van Helsing?

It’s probably not good.

I palm the orange in my pocket, trying to decide if I want to be in debt to the vampire or the secretive gypsy.

“Deal with Dorian before I get my hands on him!” Vance barks from inside his room, his voice booming and rattling the precious mirrors around me.

“Not my problem either,” I call out in reminder as I stroll down the hallway, checking my reflection in all the helpful mirrors as I go.

I toss the orange up and catch it.

“Secretive little gypsy,” I mutter to myself.

Chapter 2


Margie answers the doors, and her eyes widen on me.

“You shouldn’t be here. He’s not—” Something loud shatters, and I hear Vance shouting, as something else breaks next.

Hot Series
» Unfinished Hero series
» Colorado Mountain series
» Chaos series
» The Young Elites series
» Billionaires and Bridesmaids series
» Just One Day series
» Sinners on Tour series
» Manwhore series
» This Man series
» One Night series
Most Popular
» Gypsy Freak (All The Pretty Monsters #2)
» Gypsy's Blood (All The Pretty Monsters #1)
» Natural Dual-Mage (Magical Mayhem #3)
» Natural Mage (Magical Mayhem #2)
» Natural Witch (Magical Mayhem #1)
» Fused in Fire (Fire and Ice Trilogy #3)
» Raised in Fire (Fire and Ice Trilogy #2)
» Born in Fire (Fire and Ice Trilogy #1)