Page 21 of Warlocks Don’t Win (Singsong City #9)

She shot another laser ball at me, so I dove, landing in a rose bush. Ow. Also, shooting that kind of magic was incredibly overpowered. Neutral magic users who hadn’t drained the magic out of their mothers just didn’t do that. Where had she gotten that kind of power?

“My roses!” she wailed as I scrambled out of the bush, a bush that scratched me to pieces before I finally managed to get disentangled.

She didn’t shoot until I got free, likely because she didn’t want to nuke her flowers.

It was good to have priorities. She shot more laser darts as soon as I got out of the bush’s range, but each was less powerful than the one before.

Her magic was running down. It was a good thing, too.

On the porch, there was no sign of the butler. A laser magic dart hit my shoulder as I reached for the handle. Ow.

I grabbed the knob and opened the door almost running into Winston the Warlock.

So handsome, strong, buzzing with energy and strength.

He frowned past me at his grandmother where she was still yelling for the butler.

He pulled me in and closed the door, shutting me in the kitchen with the cook who tenderized chicken behind his broad shoulders.

They were having lamb and chicken? Fancy.

“Clary, what are you doing here?” he demanded, eyes pools of warm concern. No, that flickering purple lightning wasn’t warm, but sizzling, like raw magic laser darts.

I blinked at him. “No, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at Sage House making a way door to my shop in Singsong City.”

He scowled and moved closer to me, so I stepped back, bumping into the door.

“I tied it to this house when I felt your spell from here. What were you thinking?” he rumbled, scowl growing more fierce every moment.

And his grandmother hadn’t really expressed any of the kindness she’d shown in her letters.

On the whole, I felt more attacked than usual. Winston was so capable of making me feel good, and even better at devastating me. I guess it ran in the family.

I said stiffly, “That it would be easier to gauge the curse from this end. And it was. That is what you got me for, isn’t it?

I’d hate to disappoint you.” I pushed past him and the vicious cook, then hesitated.

If I were going to get to the bottom of this, I’d need help.

I turned to smile at the cook. “Do you have any vodka?”

She gave me a flat look and then slowly retrieved a bottle from a cabinet, handing it to Winston instead of me.

“Thank you. So sorry for interrupting your excellent cooking. Winston is lucky to have you.”

“Now is the time for drinking?” he muttered behind me as we walking to the parlor.

“Vodka isn’t for drinking.”

“What, you’re going to pour it over your wound? Let me look at it.”

I rolled my eyes and then opened the door only to find the butler on the couch on top of Jessica. He looked close to unconscious, while she beamed at me, more vibrant and happy than hungover.

“Are you finished already?” she asked, glancing at the butler with regret.

He smiled blearily back at her.

“Yes,” Winston growled. “We’ll take the train back to Sage House.”

Jessica tensed up like she’d been electrocuted when she realized who was behind me. “How did you get here?” she demanded, the disgust on her face very clear as she pushed the butler off her and got to her feet.

Winston curled his lip at her. “I took the way door. Of course, it only goes one way since I didn’t get a chance to set up the other side. And I think fully connecting our houses might want to wait until family relations are less painful, hm?” Winston put a hand on my shoulder.

I winced and pushed his hand off. “It’s fine.”

“Of course it is. She sent the butler away so there would be no witnesses. The back door was sealed until I forced it. She was going to kill you.” His words were so sober, so heavy.

I grinned at him even while my stomach twisted. “Well, of course, since it’s my house attached to her curse.” It really was. Very clearly in spite of me not being in the house for fifteen years. And she should not have had that kind of magic, not after a death curse was eating her away.

“What?” Jessica’s eyes boggled. “You cursed Dame Winston? Are you insane? And then you came here? Do you want to die?”

Winston nodded. “That’s my question as well. Do you want to die?”

I ignored him, grabbed her arm and yanked her towards the hall and the front door. “It’ll all be undone eventually,” I said to her then glanced at Winston. “I don’t suppose you have a car somewhere? Cabs are ridiculously expensive here.”

He glowered at me. “The butler could have driven us if someone hadn’t felt the need to suck the life out of him.” Why was he looking at me like that? I didn’t have anything to do with the butler’s contented slump on the couch.

Jessica sniffed. “I didn’t ask him to come check on me. I wasn’t doing anything interesting in the parlor.” She shot me a look and a slight smile. She’d definitely been poking around, but probably not in the parlor.

“That’s so comforting. Why did you take a traitorous actress with you?” Winston demanded, still glowering at me.

“I don’t control other people,” I said with a shrug, still dragging Jessica with me towards the front door. “Did you see where they keep the furniture polish?” I whispered in her ear.

She gave me a bright smile and then stopped to open a closet we were passing and handed me a bottle of the good stuff. I added it to the vodka in my bag.

“Clearly not controlling anyone,” Winston grumbled.

I frowned at him. “Why are you so grumpy? I’m the one who got shot.”

“You got shot?” Jessica squeaked, grabbing onto me and staring at me in horror. “You really are going to die.”

I rolled my eyes. “Between the two of you, the melodrama is definitely going to kill me. So a car?” I asked Winston.

“I’ll pay for the cab. I don’t have anyone to drive my car back.” He shot another glower at me like I’d intentionally set Jessica on the butler.

“I have a long term parking space, why don’t you?” Jessica said with the sneer of one-upmanship.

The way they disliked each other, the way he avoided looking at her, it was almost like they were ex-lovers. A shock of rage had me gripping Jessica too tight until she whimpered.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, letting her go. I couldn’t quite put Winston between us, not when he was everything a witch could possibly want.

And not when they were acting so openly antagonistic.

For two actors, didn’t that mean they were hiding something else?

Maybe feelings of love? At least lust. Jessica could make almost anyone forget himself, as demonstrated by the butler.

Not that it was any of my business except that I’d married Winston. Against his will. And mine. Hadn’t I?

When we left the house, at the end of the path and the front gate was Jordan, looking like a thunderstorm while he glared at Winston. Finally, someone who didn’t take their negative energy out on me! I almost liked him for a second.

“Mind if I join the party?” he asked, arms crossed over his chest. Come to think of it, those dimensions were almost as perfect as Winston’s. And Win’s chest had been so very bare on that dusty couch in the conservatory when I’d temporarily lost my mind.

Jessica hissed at Jordan. We were clearly feeling different things.

“Absolutely!” I beamed at him. “If you could drive us to the train station, that would be stellar.” Then I wouldn’t have to wait for a cab or pay for it.

Jessica and Winston scowled at me, equally betrayed, but by what, I had no clue. The world had gone mad the second I left Singsong City. Usually I was mad enough to keep up, but not this time.

The car ride was awkward, with Winston crowding into the backseat with me and Jessica, leaving Jordan to drive.

Jessica spent the entire drive staring at the back of his head like she couldn’t help herself, while Winston frowned at my shoulder, like he could see the damage.

There was no physical evidence that I’d experienced any trauma. It still throbbed though.

Worse than the pain was the feeling that the second Winston got me alone, he’d be trying to fix it, to heal it, and that would require his hands on my skin. I could already feel the weight of his touch, or maybe that was the memory of the kiss. Which one?

Finally, we were at the station, and got out, leaving Jordan behind.

“I don’t have my wallet,” Winston said as we stood in front of the flashing signs showing the schedule. They were words of betrayal if I’d ever heard them.

I stared at him, not understanding. “You mean, I need to pay for yours? Where’s Jordan?” He was part of Winston’s coven, so he should pay.

He hadn’t come inside with us. Jessica also gave me a fluttering of lashes. “I used up my last cash on the first ticket.”

This couldn’t be happening to me. Two movie stars and I had to pay? Me? The broke owner of a second-hand clothing shop? The injustice!

I slowly paid for their tickets while my shoulder throbbed along with my pocketbook. Also my heart. She’d tried to kill me when I’d honestly expected a warm welcome. I really was an idiot.

I straightened up. Warm welcomes were always a lie. At least her reaction was honest. And the curse was attached to my house.

One thing was certain. I vowed to make these two drama queens pay me back. With interest.