Page 56 of Warlocks Don't Win
“This is Hope, of Hope’s House,” Winston said, the words taking a second to penetrate.
I blinked at the extremely old woman in bright shades of gold, mustard, all the yellows and none of it in the shape of a ball gown. “You’re Hope? It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m…”
“Clary Sage, yes, everyone knows,” she said, taking my hand and shaking it briskly. After she dropped it she sniffed her fingers, looking like a complete lunatic, then she gave me a wide smile, showing a few missing teeth. “Interesting. Winston said he’d make it worth my while if I talked to you. So talk.”
Winston grumbled something under his breath, but the direct approach was perfect. “Has Hope House ever cursed someone?”
“Oh, sure,” she said, nodding agreeably. “It has a whole flower border that steals stress and doles out a false sense of contentment.” Her eyes were bright, amused by me and this entire situation. At least she wasn’t nervous about me.
“No more specific curses?”
“No. Perhaps it was you who cursed someone unconsciously.”
I shrugged. This was starting to feel pointless. I’d come to a ball for this?
Winston fixed her with a hard look. “You are quite certain about Hope’s House not dealing curses?”
“Quite. Then again, Hope’s House wasn’t built on the ashes of depravity, was it? Curses aren’t the focus of my house or of me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a handsome man over there that looks as if he could use a dancing partner.” She strode off in her bright yellow pants, directly to an old man with a walker.
“She’s very confident,” I murmured. The way she went out and took what she wanted was awe-inspiring. Also the way she carried off yellow.
Winston hmphed. “Not very helpful, though.”
“Neither was the Dealer. It was a long shot at best.”
“This song is good,” Winston said, looking towards the band on the stage to the left. “Will you dance with me?”
Would I? I wanted to. I was starting to feel quite discouraged, and honestly, coming out publicly as Clary Sage was more stressful than being Winston’s wife. Couldn’t I take what I wanted, like Hope of the yellow fetish?
I moved close and put a hand on his shoulder, waiting for him to take my hand in a closed position.
“Is that a yes?” he asked with a hopeful smile.
“Obviously. It’s a yes. Dance with me. Drown my sorrows in your charismatic charms.”
He swept me into the dance, pulling me closer than he had before, his eyes searching my face for clues he desperately needed. It felt desperate, the way he held me, the way he moved, intense and focused, like this was war, not some casual circumnavigation of the room.
The rest of the world didn’t exist. It was only the points of contact between us, hand to waist, palm to shoulder, and then our clasped hands, pressed together in a holy kiss. The feel of him throbbed through me, pulsing with every beat of my heart.
We moved in time to the music, or the music played in time to us. I felt his heat, his intention, and it was so incredibly intoxicating. Nothing else could touch us as long as the music played and he held me in his arms. It was even worse than the first time we’d danced. This was all-consuming perfection.
“Pardon me, but may I have this dance?”
Winston pulled me painfully close before he blinked a few times and then released me, leaving me untethered and unbalanced.
I found myself in the arms of a man who was all wrong. He was handsome enough, dressed well even for a vampire, which he had to be considering his pale skin and cravat. Only undeadwho’d been around for some time knew how to tie cravats with so much intricacy.
“You’re asking about whether or not a sensate house can cast curses of its own volition,” he said without preamble, spinning us around before he reversed directions and sent me out in a spin before pulling me back in. This dance was much more athletic, about steps instead of the uniting of souls. Just as well. I’d heard vampires didn’t have souls. Like demons.
“Yes. What do you know about it?” My voice was stiff, like my body. He’d interrupted the most exquisite moment of my life.
He flashed a small smile. “I’m Dire’s master.”
I hesitated while I gathered up everything I knew about Dire, the largest sensate house in the world. House wasn’t the correct term. It was a castle, supposedly haunted by no fewer than seven ghosts, and built on the bones of a battle. I wasn’t aware that its master was a vampire, but that explained why they would talk about the house and not the person tied to it.
“I’m Clary Sage, but you know that. Has Dire ever cursed anyone?”
He pursed his rather full lips. “Dire is a curse. Everyone who has become its master has died, but tied to the house, they linger as ghosts. In my case, as an undead abomination.”
