Page 62 of Warlocks Don't Win
“No,” she said giving him almost a soft look. “He’s too valuable to destroy. The way he united witches under your banner was positively inspiring.” Her lips curled in a cruel smile for a moment before it faded into a sneer. “I will make him forget about you. I will remind him of his place, to rule those who are too weak to protect themselves.”
Could she really make him forget me? He’d seemed pretty fixated on me in those moments of honest madness. He writhed above me, fighting as hard as he could. Such pretty muscles.
I shook my head and straightened up. “He’s not going to forget about me. He loves me. No idea why, because it makes absolutely no sense for him to fall in love with me after he sendsme to jail, but these dark warlocks aren’t particularly rational. If you kill me, he’ll kill you or die trying. It would be better if you thanked me for breaking the curse and left now.”
She raised her hand in a gesture that sent me flying across the hall. I hit the wall and fell to the floor with a thud that knocked the wind out of me. How nice to know that I’d had wind I could lose. I’d wondered.
She was really doing this. I guess I should call for backup. The coven was supposedly on the way. They’d probably throw their lot in with her until I was dead and then backstab her, but at least it would be good to see their conniving faces before I died.
I pressed my palm to the floor and reached through the house, the surrounding lands, to the mausoleum and the bottle of vodka that still had some liquor in it. I exerted as much will as I could, rolling over the floor while the bottle flew through the air, hopefully hitting some bones and shattering in them.
“You’re wasting your energy,” the old woman said, taking another step into the house. Another crack spread from her foot outward. The house was resisting her, trying to push her back, but she was so strong. So much stronger than she should be.
“Really? You think I should relax while you kill me? Did Winston’s parents relax? What about Cara’s?” I started the incantation that would raise my father’s bones in my head, forming each phrase carefully.
Her eyes flashed. “You know nothing about such things.”
“Killing people? Actually, I do. Maybe we could work together, take down the ones who… Actually I’m not sure what they did to deserve being killed, but when has a Sage ever needed a reason?” Could I get up to my knees? Maybe. Was there a point to not staying on the floor where it would make it more difficult for her to throw me around? It was hard to keep the incantation going while I talked and moved, but it was the only hope I hadof getting out of this alive. Portalia wouldn’t put the Singsong Coven at risk for me. And she might be part of Dame Winston’s crew.
Her lip curled. “Winston’s parents were out of control. He refused to follow the path of truth and enlightenment. I couldn’t let that much strength become a desolating scourge. And his son. He would have been raised badly. I had to save him from that.”
Seriously? How did that make sense? If she raised Winston’s dad and he turned out rotten, how was her raising my Winston not going to follow the same pattern? Then again, her rotten might be a sane person’s normal. Also, she’d just verified that she’d killed Winston’s parents. I somehow maintained my focus on the internal chanting.
“How are you so powerful?” I asked, moving to a crouch, eying her warily. She was fighting against Sage, but I’d weakened it, so it was only a matter of time. “The curse should have killed you sooner, and recovery should be slow.”
“Bindings. Winston has been bound to your house since the moment he put that ring on your finger. He is mine. Flesh, blood, will and soul. His strength is my strength. He doesn’t understand the beauty of his existence, what he’s created, who he’s become. I gave him purpose and turned him into a savior of our kind.”
“You murdered his parents.”
“You murdered your mother. Are you really going to judge me?” There was a flash of something in those cold eyes. She didn’t really think I’d killed her. It really hadn’t made very much sense.
I spoke slowly while my skin prickled from her negative energy. “Under your influence. You’re the one who planted gossip against him, against my mother. You arranged for him to be here, to find me or her, whoever survived, and he was goingto finish the winner off. Either one of us dead was a tidy solution for you. That’s why I was paralyzed for weeks, because that was part of your influence. You infiltrated Sage house using my love for him. Like you used his love for his parents to further your own agenda. Is it really witches you care about, or your own skin, position, power?”
She gave me an actual smile. “You finally see some things.”
“You had someone try to kill me more recently. Who?” The incantation in my head was getting harder. Was I sweating? It was so far away. I’d never tried to raise bones from so far away.
She waved a hand, looking away like it was beneath her to kill someone. She was doing her best to kill the house. And me, but yes, let’s pretend you’re above getting your hands dirty. “Probably the Salem Coven. That’s their typical methods of accepting a new voice. First they have to test her, make certain she isn’t easy prey. Tabitha is getting too weak. I should have chosen someone else, but all of my efforts were directed at maintaining my hold over Winston. He is so strong. His feelings for you were always conflicted. He should have killed you, but instead he testified against you. I could use that, and I did, but it would have been better if he’d ended things cleanly between you. I wasn’t aware until later that he was writing to you. You inspired him in ways vengeance never could. I’ll have to manage your death very carefully so that I don’t lose him.” She meant kill him. Psycho.
Speaking of losing, she swept my legs out from under me, slamming my head against the marble floor. I lost control of the summoning while the world flickered out of focus. The threads were lost, scattered far away. So much for hope.
She took another step into the hall and the house creaked like it was going to collapse on top of her. All of us.
“How did the house curse you?” I asked. I wanted to know that before I died and it seemed like she had all the answers.Now I knew why. She’d been draining the house for years using Winston’s bindings to me, his love, my hatred. Okay, maybe I hadn’t hated him nearly as much as I wanted to.
“He found you in Singsong City. It must have completed the circuit of binding so Sage House could find the originator of the drain and put a stop to it.”
Oh. The kiss had triggered the curse. How magical. And now I really felt bad about fighting Sage House. I’d probably feel worse when she really put effort into killing me. You see, my father was Rasputin, notoriously difficult to kill. Maybe I’d survive long enough to kill her first.
I dove at her, hitting her knees and taking her down, but the next second, she’d thrown me back across the hall. It hit our engagement portrait, bringing it down on top of me as I crashed into the flowers and the table. The crash was impressive, sounded like a piano falling down stairs.
My heart hurt. And glass shards of the vase were all under me. Couldn’t feel my legs. Not a good sign. Maybe if Winston cut the bindings with her, it could cut off her ties to Sage House. Or if he broke the bindings to me.
He’d mentioned that, like it was something he wouldn’t enjoy. It sounded painful. I didn’t want to break the bindings with him.
I looked up at the warlock struggling, but his eyes were unfocused, confused. She was working on him, manipulating his thoughts, his will.
“I love you, Nettle Winston,” I said, ignoring the witch’s hiss. “I’ll love you forever. I’d rather die than break the binding to you. You’re better than stuffed-crust pizza.”
