Page 16 of Warlocks Don't Win
Winston snorted loudly and disrespectfully from the top of the ravine. “Paulo, they got you to play a vampire? You’re better than that.”
“Winston?” Paulo squinted up at the most annoying fake boyfriend in the world. Then again, him being annoying would probably be great for my closure project.
I scowled at Paulo and grabbed his hand, hauling him to his feet. “You’re an actor? Why are you running around with a gun on my property?”
“Your property?” Jessica asked appearing next to Winston up on the ridge, haughty derision dripping from every syllable. Not that there were a lot of syllables in there. Four. Four syllables of dripping derision.
This was going to be fun. Me at the bottom of a ravine covered in leaves, holding a gun on an actor.
I turned and pointed the gun at Jessica instead. “Hello. I’m back.”
Jessica’s eyes narrowed as she struggled to recognize the striped-haired intruder.
Tolly Vervain the Terrible chose that moment to launch at me from the left, hitting me and sending me sprawling over Paulo again.
Paulo gurgled while I struggled to get up, but Tolly’s tail kept getting in my face. Her tail was ridiculously fluffy. I sputtered and swatted at it while Paulo slowly expired beneath me.
“Is this really the shot we want?” a man called.
“Cut!” Jessica screeched, sounding more than slightly rabid. “Cut! Cut! And someone call security to take this stalker off my property!”
I got Tolly’s tail off my face long enough to see Jessica gesture dramatically at Winston the Warlock.
He gave her a flat glare and then slid gracefully down the slope, reaching my side a few seconds later.
He grabbed my hand and hauled me up, then picked me up and proceeded tocarry meup the hill like he’d fallen into a pride and prejudice reproduction and couldn’t help himself. No, that’s not the one with him carrying her around. Marianne. What was his name? No idea, but he was hot. The injured former soldier with money, loyalty, and patience for the delightfully flighty girl who liked shiny things.
Winston wasn’t the reliable soldier. He was the flighty villain who looked good and could manipulate everyone. Wickham. He was definitely a Wickham. Of course, Wickham had been very hot.
He reached the top of the hill where Jessica was staring at him with a curled lip. She was now surrounded by a variety of people in jeans and caps who looked irritated.
“What now?” a bald man demanded whose skin was tinted green. Ogre? Goblin. Definitely goblin with the way he was looking at Jessica with violence barely held in check.
Jessica ignored him, just kept staring at me and Winston. “Who do you think you are? Some long-lost relative who thinks she can claim what’s rightfully mine?”
I blinked at her. “I’m not challenging you. In fact, I’m totally open to seeing if the butler can transfer the title to you.”
The butler cleared his throat, voice like gravel crunching cheese puffs. Perfect. Now we could have a really fun party. His enormous black umbrella blocked out everything but the tips of his polished Italian loafers.
“I was alerted when you entered the gates, Miss Sage. And you’ve brought Winston the Warlock with you. How delightful.” He sounded the opposite of delighted. As usual, he sounded dry, dusty, and disgusted.
“Right? So delightful,” I sputtered while I tried to get out of Winston’s arms and failed. Win was still wearing lounge clothes,but made it look like everyone else was overdressed. Charisma like that should be illegal.
“You’re not Clary Sage,” Jessica said, raising her chin and sounding extremely confident.
“Winston, put me down before I turn you into a frog,” I hissed.
He pursed his lips for a moment before he set me down and crossed his arms, looking bored. “As you wish, my lady.”
“My lady?” Paulo chortled, climbing up the ravine with more energy than before. “Are you saying that this charming cannonball is the actual, original Clary Sage? The infamous murderess and seducer of warlocks everywhere?” He gave me a rakish smile that he definitely rehearsed daily. It was actually quite effective.
“I’d give you a discount,” I murmured.
Winston nudged me. “No. Paulo’s got succubus blood. Absolutely not.”
I considered the things my mother would do with a succubus then shuddered and shifted away from Paulo. “Agreed.” I was not my mother, draining the magic and lust out of a monster.
Jessica maintained her disbelief. “She’s not Clary Sage. I don’t know how she fooled you, Winston, but she’s absolutely not?—”
