Page 60 of Warlocks Don't Win
His eyes softened. “Almost?”
I pulled away, catching his hand and tugging it down. “We’ll talk about unbindings and morality after I wage war on the house. The heart of the house is probably my mother’s bedroom. That’s good. I can lay on the bed during the entire thing.”
He squeezed my hand. “That works for me. Some of my happiest memories involve that bed.”
I turned and dragged him up the stairs, well-polished, glowing beneath the glowing chandelier. The house was content. I’d polished it well and fed it the energy of my shop. It wasn’t going to be abandoned.
“No, you aren’t going to be abandoned, but you are going to break the curse.”
A stair creaked in protest.
“I’m serious. You can’t just curse people. You have to break it now.”
The air contracted and expanded, like it was sniffing at me. Dismissive. That’s what that was.
“I command you, Sage House, as Clary Sage, ruler and heir of Salem Coven, to stop this nonsense right now.” The air crackled as I expanded my will against the soul woven into the fibers of the place. Every burned witch, every heir since, their wills and lives had become part of its life, its awareness.
It was strong. But I was determined. I would save Winston’s grandmother, even if she wasn’t the one who hadn’t forgotten about me.
The house showed its power.
I fell with Winston, through the floor, deeper, deeper, past the basement and into a crypt filled with crumbling bones. This wasn’t the family mausoleum. This was the roots of the house.
For a second I lay on the piles of bones, the breath knocked out of me, but I slowly scrambled upright, a skull rolling beneath my foot. Charming.
“Winston?” I whispered.
“He’s not here,” my mother’s ghost appeared, shedding light on the situation, green creepy light, but light all the same. “What are you doing? What is this place? Oh, I remember. I had to come here when I challenged the house as heir.”
“You challenged the house as heir? Why?”
“Because my aunt was tired of it and had no female heirs. She made it sound so glamorous to rule the Salem Coven and all that entailed. In all humility I made it glamorous. It’s all about presentation.” Presentation, yes. Humility, not so much.
“Yes, well…” I slid on another skull and fell into the splits then tumbled sideways, bruising my hip rather badly. Urgh. “Winston said you never actually killed anyone.” I stared up at the green lit roof of the dripping rough rocks. This would make quite a nice smuggling space if you could get rid of the skulls. They were a hazard. Definitely not up to current safety standards.
“Did he? Nosy fellow. Always ruining my plans. You were going to bring Sage House back to greatness, but instead you fell for that ridiculous man.”
“He is ridiculously handsome.” How long could I lay here with a sharp bone poking into my left scapulae? It felt femur sized. I should rescue Winston, but trying to walk out of here was practically impossible. If only I had a broom. I’d gotten almost adequate at flying once upon a time. Fine, it had been unstable levitation and every time I tried to move in any particular direction ended up concussing myself.
I took a deep breath and forced myself upright, using the energy remnants in the bones to stabilize me. Yes. I’d just walk six inches above them. Very sensible. “You’re saying that you didn’t actually bury anyone in the yard? But I dug so many graves.” I spread my arms and focused on maintaining those six inches that kept me from getting rolled like a log.
“Appearances need to be maintained. You know that.”
“For what purpose? Who do you think was watching?”
“The Salem Coven for one, not to mention all the other monsters hungry for power. Sage House is a place of power. It’s always been a target.”
“Salem Coven is stupid.”
“You claimed it. Shouldn’t call something stupid if you’re going to be its voice.”
I choked on my breath, or maybe that was the bone dust. “No. Tabitha worked hard to claim Salem Coven. She can keep it. It’s none of my business. Absolutely not.”
“Then you shouldn’t have used your position as voice of Salem to challenge the house. The coven is coming. They might try to burn Sage down. It won’t be the first time. She loves being burned. It’s like an extra coat of polish to her, a resin coat.”
Somewhere high above me, I thought I heard a low moan. Was that Winston? My heart beat faster as I spread my fingers and pressed against the will of the house. This was the heart of Sage House, not my mother’s bedroom. But if I was in the heart, I could crush it.
My voice came out loud and rich. “You will break the curse and stop attacking the Winstons. He is bound to me, heart and soul. You witnessed that binding. We protect those who are bound to us. And youwillbe a proper House for a proper witch.”
