Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,10

to manage your covens.”

I stand abruptly, pulling my phone from my pocket.

“I’ll agree with whatever you four decide,” I tell Emit, Vance, Arion and Marta. “I need to make a quick phone call.”

No one objects, aside from the one predictable bitch.

“Now, Morpheous? Can’t you take your job seriously for longer than five minutes?”

“We’ve been in here for over two hours, and it’s clear you’d spend all day long pathetically trying to garner our attention by any desperate means at your disposal,” I tell her without glancing at her, turning to go. “Play your games with them. I have a phone call to make.”

She mutters something too low for me to hear, but I hear Arion say, “That’s because he’s clearly right. I never pegged you as being this sad and lonely without us. I thought you were more independent than this, Idun. After all, you’ve boasted for centuries we were nothing without you. I actually believed you until—”

I shut the door behind me, sealing out the conversation inside the soundproof Van Helsing rings that was built with the finest quality materials to keep the screams silenced from the soft human ears that may happen by.

Shera answers my call with an exhausted huff, as a baby cries in the background.

“What’s wrong with our lad?” I ask her.

“His mother is missing, Violet’s locked herself away in her office to do some work, and babies clearly fucking hate me. I don’t particularly like them, either. I’ve never held babies before. I don’t know what I’m doing, and—”

“Violet’s in her office?” I ask, not really caring about hearing the vampire beta’s grievances all day.

“Yes,” she says, and then curses. “You can’t put that in your mouth. Aren’t you supposed to be older before you’re doing all this stupid shit?”

“You’re not really talking to the baby like that, are you?” I ask, grimacing.

“Don’t judge me. I’m not a babysitter, and I’ve never pretended to be one. I’m not an awful person just because I don’t know how to make babies laugh and shit. What’s the verdict?”

“Still undetermined, but it’s not looking like a good future for betas who aren’t at the top of the power chain. You may want to look into giving up your seat in Arion’s home. Consider that charitable advice,” I tell her, casting a dubious look toward the doors behind me. “Take the phone to Violet. Her phone is going to straight to voicemail.”

“That’s because she’s in her office with the door shut. When the door is open, she can be bothered. When it’s shut, it means she wants absolute silence and alone time. The door is shut,” she argues.

“I don’t give two shits if the door is shut or open. I want to speak to Violet right—”

“I answer to Arion, and I answer to Violet. If you want a beta to break rules and get into trouble, hire your own beta to assume the risks. Me? I do what I’m supposed to, because I’m a damn good beta,” she says as she hangs up on me.

Fucking vampires.

Cursing, I pick up my phone, tempted to call Talbot. I pause, deciding I don’t want the prat thinking he’s got the job. If I start using him like a beta, he’ll never go away.

Just as I’m about to head back inside, my phone rings, and I glance down, spotting Amos’s name flash across the screen.

My brother hasn’t contacted me in centuries, aside from matters of the obligatory nature. He didn’t even respond to my email that I sent that tasked him with keeping a close eye on Dorian until we have Idun sorted.

I’m curious enough to answer.

“Amos, to what do I owe this—”

“Is Dorian there with you?” he asks, cutting me off and sounding slightly irritated.

Frowning, I answer, “No. Why would he be with me? I’m the last fucking person—”

“Dorian is missing, and you told me not to let him out of my sight for a while. He’s not answering his phone, and one of his jets is missing from the hangar. I’m not going to be punished for this. I had a major upset in my House yesterday that I had no choice but to deal with. I can’t help it if—”

The phone tumbles from my hand, and I take off in a sprint toward Sanctuary. Leaping over benches, cars, and anything else in my way, I dash like a madman across town.

The doors are too slow opening, and I end up ramming one so hard it breaks off its hinges, as