“And I appreciate it,” she says with a grin. “You really are much hotter when you actually try.”
Giving her a little glare, I finish up with the makeup bag and put it aside before moving on to my hair, pulling out the large rollers she had me put in it earlier. Directly after, I start doing the finger comb thing she detailed.
“This is the most lucid I’ve been in too long,” she says as she seems to strain to focus. “I think it’s the excitement.”
Trying not to overthink things, I lift the bag next to us. “This is for the first part of your day,” I tell her as she squeals in excitement and ghost-claps her hands.
“The bag downstairs is for the second part of your day,” I go on, causing her to squeal even louder as she dances on the toilet seat.
My smile grows, even as my heart sinks a little.
“Okay. Let’s do this,” I say as I turn to face her, my hands a little shaky.
She stands and meets my eyes, a small smile on her lips. “Thank you, Violet,” she says seriously.
I fan my eyes and shake my head. “Unless you want the makeup ruined, don’t make this a thing right now.”
She just grins and steps into me. I feel a tug in my mind, like someone is trying to break in, and I open the sealed door for the first time ever.
It all turns dark.
Chapter 4
VANCE
There’s no doubt in my mind that it’s the sassy Anna walking toward me in Violet’s body with a vixen’s grin on her red-painted lips.
Unable to help myself from taking in the way she looks in a very tight dress with spiked heels, I lose my train of thought for a second.
“I told her she cleaned up nice. She never listens to me,” she drawls, mocking me a little as I continue to stare at the way her waist dips in, showing off every perfect curve on Violet’s tempting body.
I down the glass of whiskey. The first bottle didn’t knock the edge off. The second is slowly starting to work its way into a steady burn in my veins.
She pauses, staring at the corner of the room. “How odd. I’ve never seen it without a giant dildo there,” she tells me, causing me to choke a little on the sip. “It’s never really been there, has it?”
I just shake my head in response, and she huffs out a breath of laughter.
“You’re a little early,” I say as I stand to collect the most expensive bottle of bourbon I could acquire on short notice, and walk back over to the table, pouring her a glass.
“Well, I don’t have quite as much time as I’d hoped, so I decided to skip the massage Violet scheduled for me and come straight toward the main event of the evening,” she answers, her voice sounding like Violet’s but her tone completely different.
She takes a seat, sniffs the bourbon in the glass, and a smile crawls over her lips as I lower myself back to my seat. “Now this is the good stuff. Lie to Violet. Tell her I love the cheap bourbon she bought me.”
I’m not sure why I smile.
“She’s breaking all sorts of gypsy laws to give you this day,” I decide to tell her.
She nods as she sips the bourbon and moans around the edge of the glass.
As she lowers her drink, she smirks over at me. “She chose you because she’s the least attracted and least drawn to you.”
I bristle, unsure how exactly I feel about that, and her smirk grows more taunting.
“She thinks it’ll be less awkward afterwards because she never sees the two of you in a similar situation,” she goes on, swirling her drink.
“Why exactly are you telling me this?”
She shrugs a shoulder, still smiling. “Because I always root for the underdog. Terrible habit of mine.”
Scrubbing a hand over my jaw, I lean forward. “I think you’re confused about my interest in Violet.”
“I think you’re in denial about your interest in Violet,” she’s quick to volley.
Sitting back, I watch her as she studies me with a shrewd eye that Violet lacks. Her age is showing.
“How did Violet raise Arion?”
“How did he make her forget she did that?” she asks instead of answering.
I huff out a breath.
“Please answer my question. It’s important I get details before I deal with him next time.”
“I honestly don’t know. I wasn’t there when it happened,” she answers, clearly playing coy as her eyes dart around the room. “I expected a lot of swords and things to be hanging in here, since you’re a Van Helsing.”
“Not my room,” I remind her as I sit back. “It’s just on loan. And my weapons stay in their vault, regardless. Who tricked Violet into helping them raise the bastard? And don’t dodge the question.”
Her eyes connect with mine. “Sitting here, seeing a dildo-less corner, and no purple gorilla following us around, I question how much I truly know. I feel it’d be reckless or dangerous to give you misinformation as truth, considering I could most definitely be confused about what I do or don’t know. I’m dead; I shouldn’t involve myself with problems of the living. It defies a natural order,” she goes on, striking a nerve with that last comment without realizing it.
“Very well.” I decide not to point out that possessing a body to have a fun blowout party before final decay oblivion is also defying the natural order.
“Is he a threat to her?” she asks me, eyes on mine. “He made her forget everything, but he was spewing some romantic gibberish during an orgy, I think.”
“Orgy?”
“Yesterday. When you came to save her,” she goes on, gesturing toward me.
I laugh humorlessly, realizing just how misinformed her information must be.
Then, on an annoyed exhale, I tell her, “I’m not sure about anything involving Arion right now. I can’t get into the cemetery until the acidic fog in there dissipates. It nearly burned my eyes out when I tried.”
“Enough gypsy talk. Let’s talk more about Violet.”
“Violet’s most certainly a gypsy,” I point out, lips twisting in a semi-suppressed grin when she rolls her eyes.
“Well aware. She’s a pitiful little gypsy who has no idea what’s going on around her, and God help her for relying on me to help her through it. She’s going to need someone much saner and more dependable when I’m gone.”
The seriousness to her last note has me sipping more of my whiskey. I say nothing to her as she looks down at her glass of bourbon.
“Violet is the one soul who cares for me.”
“Since your death?”
Her eyes level mine with a cold look. “Ever,” she answers with a tight smile.
She bends to pick up the bag and starts walking toward me again.
After she deposits the bag to the table, she opens a compact, inspecting herself in the mirror, softly touching her face as she just stares.
“Violet isn’t fragile, but she’s not yet strong either,” she goes on, snapping the compact shut as her eyes find mine.
I sip my whiskey, content to hear her story as she just stares down at the bourbon in her hand once more.
“I didn’t expect to like her so much,” she confesses. “She sneaks up on a person like that. I have the dazzle. She has the sneaky razzle.”
She laughs bitterly, still not meeting my eyes.
“I’m the secondary character, after all,” she goes on, confusing me. “She’s the lead.”
Her voice wobbles on the end when her gaze lifts once more. She pushes her glass aside and props up on the table as she takes her seat once again.
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask her softly.
“Because someone should know,” she says with a shrug. “Also, someone needs to know something has been killing me slowly.”
“What do you mean?” I ask in confusion. “Violet isn’t feeding on you, if that’s what—”
“She’s not feeding on me. You should figure out what her mother attached to her soul to keep ghosts away. And you should figure out why she did it.”
“Me?” I muse as I finish off the last of my whiskey and push my own glass aside.
I don’t even know if that’s a thing.
“You’re the Van Helsing. Isn’t it your duty to serve and protect or something?”