Page 19 of Warlocks Don't Win
“I’m not leaving the house until I’ve broken the curse, if there is a curse, and broken the bindings to the local coven.”
“That’ll be a declaration of war when you’re barely on your feet. Everyone, including the house, is angry at you for abandoning them.”
I jabbed his chest. “I didn’t abandon them! I went to jail! No one was on my side. Not my coven, and not…”
He grabbed my shoulders and pulled me close so I couldn’t help but smell that incredibly delicious scent that was all him. “I know. I’m sorry. I ran away instead of staying by your side. I…”
“Didn’t love me,” I said shortly and broke out of his grasp. “I know. Too bad you got a tattoo before you realized your mistake.” I sighed as the anger drained out of me. Anger took way too much energy. “Don’t worry, Winston. If there’s a curse, I’ll break it. You don’t belong here. Go be with your grandmother. She’s dying alone.”
He frowned at me. “She’s not alone. She’s a manipulator like me, only better at it. Clary, if you’re serious about setting a way door here, I recently installed one at home, to connectboth coasts. It’s not a small feat. It took me years of research to properly set one up that didn’t lose people in various dimensions in the process. It’s good that you’re willing to be connected to Sage House. It needs you.” His eyes were so sweet, caramel balls of sincerity.
I snorted. “It needs to be burned to the ground. Maybe that’s the obvious solution to all the issues. Burn the house, burn the woods, and you won’t have curses or anything else latching onto it. It’s tired. I’m tired. There’s no way I have enough strength to make a way door, not when…”
Did I want to tell him about the house being drained?
His eyes flickered with purple. “In the woods, when you locked into your home, you became weak, more weak than before. That’s the opposite of what’s supposed to happen, isn’t it?”
I sighed heavily. Of course it was. And of course he’d noticed that I hadn’t become some super-fueled witch when he knew all about the theory of places of power like Sage House. Was there any point of pretending? If he’d recently made a way door…But I didn’t want to be connected permanently to Sage House. I wanted to go back to my real life in Singsong city and forget that all of this existed. Except that someone had shot me. Someone who must have known who I was and wanted me out of the way for some reason. But who could have known me after fifteen years and just as many different bad hair days? Someone must be reporting on my activity to the Salem Coven.
But why? Had Silas really been responsible for hiring my lawyer? Several people had been surprised that I’d gotten a life sentence from killing someone who was notoriously suspected of all kinds of illegal activities, including murder. But the trial had been very one-sided, convicting me with Winston’s testimony more than anything else. His family was well-known and respected. Of course it was. That’s what they wanted to be,so that’s what they got. Mine was well-known and feared. Also what my mother had wanted.
What did I want?
His voice was low, persuasive. “Clary, let me take you to dinner. Use me. Being seen with me will cement the idea that you have a very strong ally and aren’t dependent on the will of the coven. Hiding in Sage House isn’t going to help. Don’t let the house’s panic affect you.”
“The house isn’t being a drama queen. It really is being torn apart,” I murmured, but I wasn’t really thinking about that, not when he was looking at me with those soft caramel eyes.
His family were the world’s greatest manipulators. He was manipulating me right now. In fact, what were the odds that I’d have brought him on a cross-country trip if I wasn’t being magically influenced by him? But why did he want to be here with me? What did he want, other than to break his grandmother’s curse? If there was a curse.
Someone had tried to shoot me. If I died, who would profit? I’d already abandoned the coven, so nothing much would change there, but the house. It would go to someone else if I died, someone who might think that they’d take better care of it. It must have seemed like I’d abandoned it without a backwards glance. Would that be enough reason to shoot me?
Maybe it was something else. The coven wouldn’t believe that I didn’t want to take control of them again once I came back. They didn’t understand how deeply I didn’t want to be my mother.
And then the curse. If there was one, maybe there were more than one. Who would be casting curses from my house? Could it possibly not be the person who was draining it? Maybe the entire coven was behind that.
The door opened and in strode the butler, no umbrella over his head to hide his pale scalp.
“You sent Silas away.” He looked around the room with growing horror. “I haven’t seen it since the first time you returned. It’s only been a decade. Why is it so…”
Was it possible for the butler to drain the house’s energy? It was certainly possible for him to shoot me. And he was very clever and could probably keep tabs on me with the tax paper trail.
I tucked my arm in Winston’s and smiled up at him. “Look, Win. The butler’s here. Isn’t that perfect.” I turned my smile on the butler. “Why don’t you dust something while Winston and I are out. Order groceries. Winston’s paying. I’ll need everything for sausage rolls as well as the usual day-to-day ingredients. I do adore the kitchen here.” I pulled Winston out of the front parlor, across the broad foyer and out the front door, narrowly missing getting my foot caught in the broken porch floor.
I laughed and patted the rail. “Silly house. Of course I’m coming back. I’m just getting everything we need for the amazing way-door Winston’s going to make.”
I barely made it off the porch without getting my feet caught, and then I hurried to my truck, climbing in and buckling the belt while Winston got in the passenger’s side.
“Are you sure you should leave that monster alone in Sage House?”
“No,” I said, putting the truck in gear. “But I need to eat before I tackle the house. Where’s this restaurant you speak of? It had better be good.” I also needed to figure out what was going on with Winston, what his real motive was to be so close to me.
It was on a side street off the road we’d driven into town. It used to be a gymnastics place, but now it was ‘Jay’s Little Italy.’
I glanced at Winston. “Italian?”
He flashed me a fabulous smile that sparkled with charisma and charm. “It’s the one place guaranteed not to have any television people. Carbs are anathema to the breed.”
I raised a brow. “So you’re not going to eat? Good. I’ll eat your food too.”
