Gypsy Rising

“She’s your daughter?” Zuela asks Marta like he no longer finds this joke funny.

“I’m January Violet Carmine,” Violet says from the door, drawing everyone’s attention once again. “I’m apparently some omega designed for one specific task as a result of the freaky shit that happens when you mix blood magic with gypsy magic and break some kind of oath you signed in blood,” she adds, causing Damien’s head to tip back.

“Violet, go the fuck inside,” I snap.

“She’s not your omega, so show her respect,” Marta grinds out.

“Respect? For an omega?” Zuela asks on a humorless laugh. “These words are really being spoken from Marta Portocale’s lips?”

“It’s apparently too close to the moon,” Violet says in my defense.

I realize she truly does bloody believe I’m not every bit of the alpha Arion is.

If Arion had yelled at her, she’d be hiding under a table right now.

“And she’s not scared of the big bad wolf,” Zuela says amidst laughter that now starts turning almost cathartic, his entire body vibrating with the force. “Is she fucking the wolf too?” he barely manages to ask through his guffaws.

“One night. We only fucked one night,” Violet says as though she’s clarifying and making things less…surreal. “I think. To be honest, it’s all starting to blur together by this point.”

I scrub a hand over my face, when Zuela crows, bellowing his laughter toward the heavens.

“I can’t…I can’t take anymore,” he wheezes.

“Now I just feel like I’m making all of you a laughing stock. Sort of rude of the host, since I came out here to be polite and even smiled while he insulted me,” Violet points out like Zuela is a reasonable human being.

“Oh, St. Mary and Joseph, the girl thinks me rude,” Zuela has to say on an even thinner wheeze, as he slaps his knees and continues with another bout of violent laughter.

I glare at Marta for raising her to be this na?ve, but a ghost of a smile toys with one edge of that crazy bitch’s lips, as she looks back at Violet. I glance behind me too, but Violet’s back is to me…as she struggles to walk in the ridiculous pink dress, stumbling a little toward the door.

Zuela’s laughter is only reenergized by the slight stumble, and Marta doesn’t look the least bit insulted. In fact, she’s almost struggling to keep a straight face.

Damien’s phone rings, and he answers, as Zuela’s laughter turns into full-blown hysterics.

“Who’s laughing?” is the first thing Arion asks.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Damien says unsurely, taking a step back from Zuela, eyes assessing the madman we’ve never heard laugh quite this much. “Have you found her?”

Honestly, I think this is the first time I’ve heard Zuela laugh since he was mortal. Even back then it was done in very sparing, minimal doses.

“No, but we found a nest of shapeshifters, who had a very large ring of humans waiting to be turned, so Idun’s fortunately been more worried about building an army than stalking us, it seems. I’ll tell you about it later. Where’s Violet? The omegas aren’t answering my calls, and you worthless fucks haven’t replaced my future bride’s phone yet.”

Future bride?

“The bloody fucking psychotic vampire alpha too?” Zuela says on a wheeze so thin I can barely hear the strained words, his face turning bright red, as he just continues cackling. “H-how is this possible?”

He collapses to his knees and starts slapping the ground, his entire body rocking, as he genuinely struggles for breath.

“Really…who is that?” Arion asks more seriously.

“Zuela dropped by to find out if Violet was a threat, and now he knows she’s not, so he’s simply reveling in the disturbing reality I find myself in,” Marta states dryly, not sounding nearly as offended as she predictably should.

“I thought we fucking agreed not to let my father around Violet,” Vance says like he’s frustrated, as something wet splatters somewhere in the background.

“My son?” Zuela asks, choking on the laugh he can’t hold back, even as true horror and nightmarish terror strikes his features. “My son is with a bloody Portocale Simpleton?” he goes on, still struggling with the laughter, even though he seems like he’s forced to laugh in spite of his repulsion.

“Nooooo!” he says, still laughing.

He’s less concerned with the fact there’s such a monster even in existence than he is with the fact his first-born is with such a creature. Typical, arrogant, prideful Van Helsing.

“That’s not funny,” he says even as the momentum of the laughter just continues. “Not at all. Not fucking at all,” he carries on, the volume of his cackling only lifting. “I can’t. I can’t,” he says as he finally walks away, laughing with an angry face, as though he’s frozen in this somewhat mortifying state of hysteria, I’m sure.

It really isn’t funny anymore to him…but…Marta’s smile has spread to take up her whole face, because the bastard just can’t seem to shut it off.

“Thanks for that,” I say, knowing Vance will hear.

I almost hear Vance’s smirk.

“If you haven’t found Idun, why are you calling?” Marta asks on an irritated sigh, the amusement gone.