A thousand years underground and knew the remote was linked to the TV. I had to be thoroughly taught how to use my first calculator.

“My life sucks so hard sometimes,” I mutter under my breath, pinching the bridge of my nose. “We’ll start with the basics,” I go on, turning my attention to Leiza, as I try not to look over at the very curious men and women who’ve started peeking around the corner, getting closer and closer to us as they sneak down the stairs.

Sometimes it’s also rewarding to be me, since I helped make this happen. But this doesn’t feel like enough.

Not yet.

I can do more.

CHAPTER 2

EMIT

“My credit card is maxed out? How is my brand new card—”

Marta stops talking, as the woman on the other line interrupts her to say, “I’m sorry Ms. Portocale, but it’s been used quite a lot earlier today. Are you saying you didn’t make these purchases?”

Marta digs through her wallet, glaring a little, as her jaw grinds. “My daughter took it shopping, it seems. I’ll have this conversation with her instead,” she states as she hangs up.

Damien glances over. “Violet went shopping?”

“I’m sure she sent a couple of omegas, whom she swore would stay by her side,” I bite out, staring at my phone when it goes to Leiza’s voicemail. “None of them are answering their phones right now.”

My muscles tense, as Marta stands and starts pacing. They always answer my calls. Never once have any of them ignored a call from me. Not a damn one of them is bothering to answer today.

It’s been hours of radio silence.

“I should have known she’d nab a credit card when I wasn’t looking. She always tries to get out of paying for her own things when I’m around,” Marta gripes.

“She’s likely paying for their things,” Damien points out, narrowing his eyes at her. “Don’t make it sound like Violet is a grubby little thief.”

“She’s not a thief; she’s a typical omega,” Marta counters dismissively.

Damien scrubs a hand over his face. “If we just peered in, it isn’t like they’d notice. The Simpletons are there alone, for all intents and purposes, until the skin walkers hydrate. They won’t smell us or sense us. No one has to know.”

“We’ll have to walk. The car will certainly draw their attention if they hear it,” I chime in, for once agreeing with a suggestion made by Damien.

“Walking with a werewolf and a deviant to Zuela Van Helsing’s home to check on my daughter, after she’s just raised the entire family of Simpletons. All this happened in seven months,” Marta says as she walks out the door, her head shaking as she makes several frustrated sounds.

“Better than looking at it as happening within four months,” I call after her, just because I hate her and want her brain overloaded the same way mine is.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” she snaps as she slams the door behind her.

“Arion and Vance are getting close to Idun’s trail. I think,” Damien says as he looks up from his phone and pockets it.

“Idun will be gone before they reach her, no matter how close they get,” I murmur under my breath, thinking about what Marta said about Idun loving being chased as much as she loves chasing.

“That bitch is already walking and leaving us behind,” Damien says as he jerks the door open, glaring down the road at Marta’s back, while she quickly heads off on her own.

Not wasting another second, we easily catch up and pass her, even with our slow jog. In less than a few seconds, she’s caught back up with us, even though she looks damn angry about all this.

“We look absolutely ridiculous right now,” Marta points out.

“Only because you’re with us,” Damien says with a smartass grin.

I leave them both behind, running faster toward the castle. But my footsteps slow when I hear music blaring from up ahead with some awful singing.

“What the hell is that?” Damien asks as he comes up on my right.

“Rockband is what that is, and Violet’s singing,” Marta says as she passes us.

That’s Violet singing? I’ve never heard her singing without a radio, another singer, and…I’ve never heard her with a very loud microphone.

I don’t even bother trying to peer inside like the outdoor-stalker I sometimes am. I climb the side of the castle and come in through a third floor window.

Marta and Damien end up on the same indoor balcony, as we all look down at what seems like an eighties prom mixed with a Nerf gun war, all surrounding a makeshift stage.

Violet is wearing face-paint and a backwards hat, as she wails into the plastic microphone about wanting to rock-and-roll all night.

I don’t have it in me to tell her that whatever she’s doing right now…isn’t rock-and-roll. It’s more like roll-to-a-corner-and-rock music.

Bobo is playing a toy guitar, a grin on his lips and eyes full of concentration, as he stares at the TV. Ighan is drumming on toy drums, singing along with Violet, as he bobs his head to the music.

I can’t believe she’s not embarrassed to be singing with Ighan, since he sings a helluva lot better than he speaks. Next to Bobo, he has one of the best singing voices.