Page 20 of Warlocks Don't Win
“I’ll get you as much as you want, but I’ll be eating with you.”
I gave him an objective once-over before I shrugged and got out of the truck. “If you really want to risk it.”
The restaurant was warm, cozy, and smelled of melting butter and garlic. They tucked us into a small booth in a corner far away from everything, and gave us breadsticks and two kinds of dip, garlic, and marinara.
I started eating, not worrying about manners as I double dipped and just reveled in the deliciousness.
“You didn’t used to eat like this,” Winston said, staring at me while I devoured my fifth bread stick. These weren’t small things, either, more like mini French bread loaves.
I chewed my bread and shrugged. “Prison food changes you.”
He flinched. It was kind of fun to mention the prison and watch him flinch. I don’t know why it bothered him when he’d testify against me all over again.
“So, Winston, why don’t you tell me all the gossip you failed to mention the first go-round. Why does Jessica hate you? She should be angling to be the next Mrs. Warlock, but instead, she’d rather Paulo staked you through the heart.”
He blinked at me and took a bread stick. He was failing the competition to see who could eat the most. Almost like he didn’t know it was a competition. Also, what was he doing here? Did he have someone working in my Coven for him? That wouldn’t surprise me one bit. So he could have had them shoot me. Otherwise, how would the person who tried to kill me know who I was? Unless someone was watching me from Singsong. The thought of someone in my Singsong coven being a traitor rankled. I’d fed them so many sausage rolls.
“Ever since you left?—”
“Was taken away to prison.”
He flinched. Heh. That was positively satisfying. He cleared his throat. “Yes. Ever since you were taken away to prison, there’s been bad blood between our two covens. Seeing me here must have been a shock for her. We’ve made a point of avoiding Salem in general, just to keep down the accidents.”
I raised my brows and leaned forward, poking him with my bread stick. “Accidents? That sounds promising.”
He snapped off the end of my breadstick and threw it in his mouth, eyes flickering with purple as he did. “Jessica enspelled Jordan to jump off a cliff. It was a short cliff, so he didn’t die, but he did have two broken legs that his insurance wouldn’t pay for. He’s not insured against acts of magic. Of course, no one could prove it was Jessica, but she’s notorious.”
I nodded, retrieving my bread so he wouldn’t steal more of it. That’s why it was problematic to have edible weapons. “Oh, yeah. Ever since high school when we practiced on the football players. Good times. She had a thing for Jordan, but the Salem Coven wasn’t good enough for the Bosty Cove. Serves him right.”
He raised a brow. “He deserved two broken legs? What do I deserve?”
I shrugged and looked out the window at the quiet side street. A plastic bag was blowing down the road. “You tried to condescend to the riffraff. It’s not your fault that our reputations are so thoroughly justified.”
He covered my hand with his, eyes flickering with purple, intent and intense. “Clary, let me know what I can do to make it up to you. I deserve to have every one of my bones crushed for my betrayal, but that doesn’t help you. I want to help.”
I pulled my hand out of his, ignoring the pleasant buzz over my skin at that connection. He was manipulating me. “Sure. Tell me the local gossip. Merta’s the coven voice, right? Where’s Jessica in the pileup? Maybe you’re out of the loop since you’vebeen ousted from this entire area since I was hauled to the clank.”
He flinched. Mmhm. So satisfying.
“No, Merta’s dead.”
I froze, gripping the bread stick like it was my life line. “Merta’s not dead. She was second after my mother. They were best friends. No one else would have dared cross her once my mom was brutally murdered by her daughter.”
He flinched again. It wasn’t as satisfying because I was distracted by the impossibility of Merta being dead. “Another accident, after you were imprisoned and the coven was in disarray. Three people volleyed to take power over the coven, Merta being the most likely victor, but she was poisoned with hemlock, and in the ensuing accusations, none of the original applicants were chosen. Tabitha quietly took charge and has been ever since.”
I blinked at him. “Tabitha?” She was the quietest witch in our coven, the least likely to interfere on anyone else’s business. Her cats were vicious, though, and she had eight. She lived on the edge of town, back of the house to the woods that backed Sage House. It would be very easy to drain it from her position.
He shrugged. “She’s a voice of moderate reason among a coven that was shattered and shaken after your mother was brutally murdered and you, the accused, was carted off in shackles.” He gave me a slight look, almost like he was aware that I was enjoying his trauma, so he’d decided to lean into it. Annoying. I had so few pleasures in life.
“So she took power from beneath. Clever. She never challenged my mother, which was also clever. By now, I’m sure she has a firm hand on the entire coven. Why did she let Jessica do a tv show? What’s in it for her?”
“The same as it is for me, I suppose. Influence and money. I don’t know. I have met with Tabitha during an internationalcoven gathering, but she was very aloof. For some reason, it’s almost like she thinks that we’re enemies. Do you think that she killed Merta and your mother?”
I stared at him. “I killed my mother. I don’t know about Merta. Tabitha is capable of subtlety, but direct murder? Not that poisoning is very direct. Hemlock. Interesting choice. And Tabitha lets Jessica use the Sage House and woods for her television show. Also interesting. She’s traditionally very traditional, archaic, old fashioned. I don’t think she has city plumbing hooked up to her house. She uses a well and composting toilets.”
He blinked at me. “That reminds me. You should call the electric company about turning on your power.”
“The butler will take care of it.”
