Page 13 of Warlocks Don’t Win (Singsong City #9)

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.”

“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’ve been 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 international coven 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.”

“Or he’ll burn the place down.”

“It could use a good burning.”

He spoke in a whisper. “Why didn’t you tell anyone what really happened? You just accepted all the blame and took the guilt without struggle. I thought you were stronger than that, but you just crumpled.” His brow crumpled.

He thought I was weak, pathetic, spineless. I wanted to stab him with my breadstick, but I just cradled it to my chest instead. “It’s no one’s business what I do with my life.”

He rolled his expressive eyes. “You officially pleaded not guilty, but you didn’t defend yourself beyond that. Why wouldn’t you at least say something about?—”

A short man in a red bow tie came over, holding our orders. “You sure a little thing like you can eat so much?” he asked, glancing at me, like I hadn’t already devoured most of the bread. The piles of cheesy noodles drenched in sauce made my stomach growl.

“None of your business,” I said like a bratty teen, but Winston had called me crumpled.

His brows rose and Winston sighed heavily. “She’s just hungry,” he said by way of explanation. What did he mean ‘just hungry?’ There was nothing ‘just’ about hunger.

He put down the plates and I dug in, ignoring Winston, who was watching me like he’d never seen anything so barbaric before. And he’d seen me covered in my mother’s blood.

He finally cleared his throat and started eating his own dinner.

He really did eat all those carbs. What was his game?

Was he really here only for his grandmother’s curse?

But he’d kissed me in the shop. Why would he do a stupid thing like that?

Maybe arrogance, but it was so weird. And waking up with him had been the best feeling.

No, I wasn’t thinking about that. Clearly.

He could have tried to kill me any number of times since then.

Why would he choose to kill me now, after we were at Sage House, with a bunch of witnesses?

No, that would be stupid, and Winston wasn’t an idiot.

Except for that time in my shop when he’d kissed me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked, brow raised over those caramel eyes.

“Someone tried to shoot me in the woods.”

He stared at me, eyes flickering purple for a moment before he stood, throwing the table over and sweeping the legs of my chair so I fell to the floor with a thud.

A crash through the windows came a second before a streak of energy hit Winston, wrapping around him like blue lightning, shaking him in its embrace until it went out and he slumped, boneless to the ground.