Gypsy Moon (All The Pretty Monsters, #4)

by Kristy Cunning

A cold washes over me. I perused diamond rings on my damn phone, just curious what’s popular on the market these days, and Violet is under the impression we’re simply making the effort to get to know her. I wasn’t planning to propose just yet, not with everything that’s going on, but it’s still a harsh gap in mindsets…

“Tell me, Alphas, how easy is it for you to put aside your nature and see yourself as equal to an omega? Can you truly do it?” she asks. “Because that’s what I raised her to expect.

“The soul stone you used to come back. The stone that killed Anna. When did you put that on me?” “Violet, that has been attached to you since you were small. I didn’t want spirits infecting your mind. You’re too trusting. People have to disappoint you before you raise your guards.”

“No one fucks up a potion better than I do. If I fuck it up enough, less power will be needed to raise them,” I go on, smiling over at Emit…who is just staring at me like he’s confused. “But it’s the exact right ingredients,” he says warily, as he stands. “She’s apples and oranges. You can’t compare her to anyone else using those ingredients for that reason,” Mom says dismissively,

“They’re hers, Violet. You know it. You feel it. Or you would have told them more. You’re scared and you know what’s coming when they finally track down Idun like they’re so desperate to do.”

My brow furrows as Violet’s eyes go a little more violet, and her gaze stays on the ground, as her breathing starts to slow.

“Sing, gypsies, sing of your lies,” the mostly mute Simpleton sings from nowhere, the fog lifting to show the black trees that mark the places of their dismembered bodies. There are a lot more trees than people…than what I remember. Only twenty come to mind, but there are at least sixty, maybe more, trees. For fuck’s sake, how many were there? A chorus of phantom singers jump in for the next line, as the wind howls harder, dragging their voices to us as the fog rolls back in. “Never trust a gypsy with no gypsy pride!”

Groans send my spine rigid as I stare at the fog in disbelief, seeing the silhouettes of bodies rising. So many bodies… So many things reattaching and moving together as a few more groans and moans ring through the air… Emit moves past the third barrier like it’s no longer there, and he sprints to Violet the rest of the way. All the seals are gone. She bloody broke them. “She really was made for this. More so than I even realized,” Marta says so quietly that I know it’s intended for just her own ears, as she stares over at Emit scooping Violet from the ground, not even protesting as she just watches. “She didn’t just raise them,” I say almost to myself, as I see the silhouettes in the growing fog. The bodies are now standing and lumbering this way. “She stitched together and charged every single one of them,” Marta states like she’s finishing my sentence.

Goddamn BISH

Violet is a conduit for more than lightning. She’s a magnet—she tempts death and attracts it. Her life was set up to deliver her to this very moment. Now that her job is done, the universe will cast her aside, and you’ll ruin her just to spite me.”

“She really was designed specifically for this, and nature forced order when we tried to break the big rules again,” Vance states quietly. “What really does happen when something completes its purpose?” “It becomes obsolete,” I say barely above a whisper.

But if violets that mf powerful this isn’t her only purpose. She gonna bring balance by WIPING IDUN OUTTT

I’ll not fucking give her up.