Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,40

much as I want an answer to my question,” I assure him.

His lips twitch with the beginnings of a grin he manages to suppress, and a weighted expression comes to take the place of the almost playfulness.

“War. War. Beyond the Double Dutch doors,” he says, saying the words—not singing them.

“War got Idun her sacrifice. We were created in war. Men are more honorable as soldiers. Women are more fierce and patient. Our instincts are at their strongest, and we’re at our finest in war,” he tells me, laughing humorlessly under his breath.

“That’s the way a twenty-eight-year-old gypsy, who has struggled for every ounce of dignity he desperately wanted to keep, when soldiers from some king’s army felt as though they could strip me of it. Take our women. Take our money. Take our pride. Take the damn clothes off our backs and be brutal,” he says, clearing his throat. “I took my vengeance out on various human soldiers who had it coming. It was all too easy, and I was unstoppable against them after a few years of honing my new skills.”

“But that wasn’t enough,” I state in realization. “Humans were too easy. You wanted to create your own society and do it better.”

He gives me a tired look. “It’s amazing to look back and see how naïve it all really was. How sincerely the power went to our heads. We created life we had no business creating, presenting ourselves as the cure for man’s illnesses when he’s too young to be turning into a spirit. Now we realize we’re the infection, and understand our roles in keeping the infection from spreading too fast or vast. Our dream of immortality soured by the balance we created by our own authority. The road to hell is paved with the best of intentions.”

He scrubs a hand over his face, blowing out another breath.

“We wanted to create our own society. We did. Our betas weren’t what we expected, and they rebelled. In the beginning, we certainly tried harder to please them all,” he tells me, eyes flicking to mine. “But one’s emotions rule them from time to time, and they incite riots, prejudices, and problems. Peace is a remarkably hard thing to obtain among humans. I’m not sure what possessed us to think we’d achieve such as monsters, who selfishly interrupted the universe’s plot because we thought we could write the story better.”

“But war gives everyone something to unite about, so you warred,” I guess.

“And it worked. For a while,” he says, his gaze growing distant. “It worked damn well. Idun crafted a design where I was the monster slayer, and the Van Helsings were after all the monsters. I was the bad guy to monsters and hero to humans. It was the perfect way to maintain order, secrecy, and provide proper fear in the hearts of the reckless.”

“It was a better system than wandering aimlessly with a world full of new creations you hadn’t planned far enough ahead for,” I say, hoping I’m not crossing a line and pissing him off with such an accusation.

He seems unbothered by it, as he nods very slowly.

“Regardless of the moral reprehensibility of it, it worked,” he says again. “Until it didn’t work anymore.”

“Why does my mother blame the four of you for Idun being so strong? How is she second-born and so strong?”

“Many answers fit that question, Violet,” he says with zero emotion. “Idun couldn’t handle me being the one everyone feared, especially since fear is the truth about what she feeds on.”

He says the words so casually, and his eyes meet mine.

“Yes, lightning is a source of her energy and her power, but fear is a source of nourishment. The more she feeds—”

“The stronger she becomes,” I cut in, finally understanding. “Even from the dead, monsters feared her name. That’s the real reason why the cults hunted Portocales. She hates the Portocales, so she sacrifices them to be sure her name carries on, even if she’s dismembered and buried. Her flock feared her enough to carry on in her absence, even if it meant living a life in the shadows and exiled from the monster realm.”

“But they didn’t step out of line or need much of my intervention,” Vance tells me. “Because Idun really does scare her flock into complete submission. There’s nothing but true terror when you’re faced with Idun’s monster off its leash. It’ll humble any soul.”

He pauses and looks over at me.

“Don’t let me say something I feel to be benign,