Gypsy Truths (All The Pretty Monsters #6)- Kristy Cunning Page 0,80

eyes toward me. “Is that really the thing to focus on at the moment?”

“No, but a ghost just used a phone to fuck with us with far too much ease and control. Our girlfriend is either an extreme masochist or an unintentional sadist—still undecided as to which category to check off. Now we’re about to enter a room to a scene that could be playing out in a number of ways, none of which put my mind at ease, and I’ve had far too long to dread pushing through those doors, terrified of what we’ll find.”

We hold each other’s gazes, as the tension ratchets up, my apprehension and hesitation doubling with each passing second.

“We have to tell her the truth about her monster,” I whisper so quietly I’m worried not even he can hear it. “If we can make it through this unscathed, we won’t procrastinate. She needs to be reined in, recognize the hierarchy, and learn to live among us. Just as normal humans live under a government’s law.”

He gives me a subtle nod, lips thinning.

“If we don’t make it through unscathed, it’ll be because she’s learned a lesson the hard way,” he says with the same hushed tone.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Yesterday, my curse was broken. I was on a high like I’ve never had in all my life, aside from the time I had Violet in the basement for two days. And the first time I had her. That was a high too.

Anyway, all I wanted to do was lose myself in her over and over. Today, I want to throttle her and shield her at the same time.

“We told her we wouldn’t be in charge anymore once Idun was back. She simply refuses to listen, and she’s in the midst of launching a solo rebellion, for the sake of ‘standing up for herself,’” he tacks on, as though I don’t see the severity of our oversight already.

She was raised human.

Humans coexist alongside us, but they live in a far different world.

She still doesn’t know all of the story, simply because no one wanted to share the worst of it. Or maybe she does know, since she was in my head for that curse.

Shit, we need a day where nothing at all is going on, in order to have some very needed conversations.

Allowing ourselves one last moment of procrastination, I finally push through the heavy doors. Emit silently trails me, and we walk down the long, eerie, freshly dusted hallways of the massive home, that looks to be preparing to start renovations.

“This place looks perfectly fine. The added construction is a ploy to get the Simpletons here, and the email went out two days ago. They’ll never leave again, regardless of what Idun says. Then, conveniently, Talbot’s sister’s convoy leaves today and gets attacked. Does one have anything to do with the other? What’s Violet up to?” Emit asks, his voice staying barely audible.

I pause, my feet firmly planting to the floor, as I stare at him. For whatever reason, a chill slinks down my spine.

“You think Violet has somehow masterminded this, baited Idun, and came here with an agenda?” I ask him, finding it entirely too believable by this point.

Idun was the last woman to blind me so much I missed every single thing she did. I’m far blinder to Violet’s dark side, since there’s not much of one…by comparison.

“I think I don’t want to go any farther, because I’m not looking forward to how any of this turns out. There won’t be an option but to fight, and you’ll be stuck to the sidelines. This is Idun’s House. Your curse will take its fullest effect here. She runs a tight ship.”

“By comparison to you,” I volley, giving him a pointed look.

Seriousness steals the moment when a door creaks, and voices carry down the next hallway.

We’ve never spoken loud enough to be heard, but as the doors slowly shut, we catch pieces of Violet speaking.

“…I know. I know. Though they seemed loyal, even loyalists have been known to go rogue, and you can’t be held accountable for every stray along the way…”

The door clangs shut, and the voices are sealed away.

My heart damn near sinks to my toes with relief to know Violet’s not in any immediate duress. My knees are barely staying locked in place, because I genuinely feared the worst.

And there’d be nothing I could do but watch.

My hands shake, as they lift to adjust my tie, and I clear my throat, my breath scraping my empty lungs