Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,133

in slow motion, as my ears continue to ring, the hit I took leaving me damn near woozy.

With some disbelief, I witness every adversary blown through the walls, almost tearing the cabin apart, as the ghost starts dancing.

“I’m Diva, bitch!” the ghost shouts, as she fist-pumps the air…and then shakes her ass at someone.

My brow tries to furrow, but the pain is so severe in my chest. I’m brought back to the reality that I’m slowly being painted in Van Helsing silver.

Marta swallows thickly, and she shuts her eyes, startling when Diva comes to sniff her hair. The ghost releases a dark grin.

Ghosts can’t smell, so it’s all for show.

I don’t know what show I’m watching, though.

I spy the silver spreading up Zuela’s neck, quickly approaching his lips, as Diva stretches and pumps her hips toward me. She squats and grins right in front of me.

“Don’t worry, pretty boy. I’ll save you until help can come. Don’t forget my name, or I’ll spank you when I’ve got a body,” she tells me with a wink. “Isn’t this like soooo much fun?”

Even if I could speak, I’d have no idea what to say. A ghost just threw several alphas around. Sure. Why the fuck not?

Right now, I’ll take any breaks I can get.

“Someone salt that fucking ghost!” my father yells from what sounds like a terribly far distance.

Diva straightens, before she dirty-dances her way to the front, and then I hear her shout, “Bring it on, bitches! Diva’s gonna whoop some alpha ass tonight!”

A female ghost appears before me so abruptly that I would startle…if I could move. She’s dressed in a hypnotically dizzying, black-and-white pattern, while the bells on her jester’s hat jingle.

“We’re all a little mad here,” the ghost says, as her neck swivels all the way around on her shoulders.

Her elven shoes jingle at the ends of their curled toes, which isn’t possible. Ghosts don’t make sounds when they move, even if they did die with bells on them.

Bloody fucking hell.

“Damien, what is this sorcery?” Amos asks in a hushed whisper, moving several feet away from the dizzying ghost.

My eyes dart to Marta, as the new ghost laughs and joins Diva doing whatever in the hell it is that they’re doing. Marta stands there with her eyes closed.

“What the hell are you doing?” I ask the crazy woman.

“I’d rather not rile it. It doesn’t particularly like me, since I worked damn hard to suppress it for all those years,” Marta says, swallowing thickly as she gives a small tremble.

“What are you spewing on about?” I grind out, feeling my throat starting to close, the next words evading me.

Marta’s eyes open and land on mine, and the fear in their depths shines too freely.

“Violet loves me more than it, and I’m terrified of it,” she says, her hands shaking.

My eyes ask the question my lips can’t form, as even my mouth becomes immobile, paralyzed by the silver’s effect.

Something burns deep inside me, almost as though it’s crashing through me with the same, yet uniquely different pain.

I’m forced to endure it without making a single sound, as the silver stops stretching across my body.

“I have more sway over my daughter than it does, or at least I did. Therefore, I’m the one person it’s jealous of,” Marta says, eyes brimming with tears. “Lucky me,” she adds with a humorless, shaky note.

The two opposite pains that are pinning me to the ground begin to war against each other, as the chaos increases outside.

I’m not sure how or why, but the unnatural silver assault seems to be lessening. I watch as it recedes from Zuela, whose face is contorted in more confusion than agony.

“Prepare yourself, fellas,” Marta says on a shaky, chilly breath. “It’s just getting started.”

Chapter 38

EMIT

An echo of laughter has me jerking my head to the right. The woods are empty, and not a sound stirs from that direction.

Another echo of laughter has me jerking my head to the left, and I barely catch a glimpse of a woman in a long, white gown disappearing inside of a tree.

Ghosts?

Why are ghosts haunting me?

I start sprinting again, warily glancing around, when I hear more laughter. The white-gown ghost moves from left to right, her laughter drifting through the woods, nearly surrounding me as I rush on.

Just as I turn my head to look in front of me again, I damn near trip over my own feet, my eyes widening, as the ghost blocks my path.

I stumble to a halt right in