Page 23 of Warlocks Don’t Win (Singsong City #9)

Chapter

Thirteen

W hen I finally stumbled off the train, Winston put a large hand over the base of my spine and led me to a sleek black car waiting at the curb.

It was a movie star car that screamed ‘look at me, I’m a movie star!’

“Very subtle,” I muttered.

He opened the passenger door and gave me a slight smile while Jessica sputtered.

“You can’t park here! This isn’t even a parking space.” She grabbed my arm and tugged me closer to her, twinging my shoulder. Today started out too long and it still wasn’t over. “She’s coming with me.”

I was like one of those party favors she’d fought over with Susan Wiggy until the favor was confetti.

I yanked my arm out of her grasp. “Actually, I’m done for the day.

Your car is too far away. Later.” I slid into the car and Winston closed it before Jessica could do anything more than look distressed.

In another moment he was in the driver’s seat, rolled shirt-sleeves revealing muscular forearms that I hated so much.

“Can we try this again?” he asked, pulling out into traffic with a low growl of his diva car.

“The way door?” I muttered, rubbing my shoulder. Dame Winston’s attack had exhausted me down to my soul, mostly because I’d stupidly expected her to be more like her letters. Kind. Supportive. Not trying to kill me.

“Dinner.” He gave me a flirty smile and took the next corner, taking us in the direction of the Italian place that had been so memorable.

“You’re kidding,” I said flatly. “I should have gotten a ride with Jessica. I’m not in the mood for dealing with death curses or golems.”

“There won’t be any of that. My people are here.”

My spine prickled. “Your people?”

“Sure. I’ve spent a lot of time organizing people so that they’ll be useful in certain circumstances.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Your people are in Salem? You don’t think this is going to be war?

I’m telling you right now, it is. Go ahead and wipe out the coven.

None of my business. My business is sleeping and researching the curse.

Also, I don’t think you should stay at Sage House overnight anymore.

” My heart plinged at the words. I’d really, really liked waking up with Winston.

“I thought we were giving you closure.”

“That was before I accidentally married you.”

He shot me a smile. “Sure. I’ll stay at the cozy bed and breakfast run by Jessica’s cousin if you’d like, but only after you have dinner.”

I frowned at him while suspicion bloomed. “Your noodles are like my sausage rolls, binding me to your will?”

He shook his head, looking relaxed and amused, but the way he gripped the steering wheel belied all those professional face muscles. “I know the guy who owns it. He’s a friend of mine. My spy, if you like.”

“Your spies own restaurants? How unique. No. I’m not going to be relaxed enough to eat happy carbs at the same place a golem came through the window and tried to chop me to pieces. You can drop me off here. I like walking.”

“Clary, we need to talk,” he said, putting a large hand over mine, eyes flickering at me with intensity. “Jorry has the best stuffed crust pizza in the world. Also, tiramisu that isn’t the crap whipped cream and jello that you hate.”

I hesitated and my stomach growled. Stuffed crust pizza was my secret weakness. He knew because we’d gone to the closest pizza place after the fancy ball that night we’d spent together, talking for twenty-four hours. I’d gone on and on about that pizza.

Worst day of my life. I’d thought it was the best at the time, but that just goes to show you how impossible it is to have any proper perspective when you’re in the thick of idiotic emotions.

“I don’t like stuffed crust pizza or tiramisu anymore. That was the old me.”

He gave me a look before refocusing on the road. He knew I was lying. I didn’t even try to sell it. “I’ll get you whatever you want in a fifty mile radius. But we need to talk.”

The skin on the back of my neck prickled. I wasn’t going to like what he had to say. Then again, when did I? I was trying to give myself closure, but marrying him wasn’t closure.

“Is it about the curse?”

He hesitated then nodded. “It’s possible they’re connected.”

Mm hm. Not about the curse then. “You can just talk to me here.”

He pulled up at the curb outside the restaurant. Immediately my door opened and a hard-eyed black-suited man held out his hand to me.

I gave him a look. “Who are you?”

“The valet,” Winston said, getting out and leaving me with the door open and the strange man offering to touch me.

He moved and there was Winston. He nodded to the restaurant while the scent of hot noodles and melting cheese wafted, curling around me and pulling me out of the deep buttery seat against my will.

Once I was standing on the sidewalk, Winston’s hand came to the base of my spine again like it belonged there.

I swatted his hand away and headed for the door with a sigh.

He was too annoying, but that’s what I asked for.

Closure. Sure. That’s what this was, not indulging in my obsession as long as possible. So stupid.

“You want to talk? Fine. I’ll eat while you talk.”

It was going to be horrible.

It was worse than horrible. First of all, the restaurant was empty except for guards and a blonde woman in a pink suit who sat at the same table I’d been at with Winston. She stood when she saw me, cocked her head and gave me a tight smile.

Cara Florshay was the voice of Apple City coven, and had been enough of my friend that she’d helped me sneak into her ball.

The one where I’d met Winston. Her eye was twitching from the effort not to look me up and down with the special contempt she shared for those poor creatures cursed to have no personal style. Literally cursed in my case.

“I’ll be right back,” Winston said, abandoning me to my fate.

Sure. He wanted to talk. Lies, all over the place. I sighed and sat down in the chair opposite her and picked up a fried ravioli from the cheery bright blue bowl.

“Cara. ‘Sup?”

She flinched. Yep. If you can’t beat them, join them. I decided that a long time ago.

“Is it really you?” she asked, accidentally taking in my floral pants and then flinching hard.

“No, not really , but at least the fake version gets to eat carbs.” I shoved another ravioli in my face and almost chewed with my mouth open, but she already looked like she was on the brink of a heart-attack.

I could have compassion. Maybe. Unless it turned out that she was already secretly married to Winston too and needed me to understand their situation.

She cleared her throat and straightened up, cocked her head and gave me a sympathetic smile. Wow. She’d gotten almost as good at acting as Winston in the last fifteen years. Maybe he’d taught her.

“It’s so good to see you again, Clary. I’ve been so worried.” She looked worried, also distracted by how many raviolis I was eating.

“Sure. Me too. Why are you here? I’m going to leave the second I’ve finished eating, and since there are already raviolis, I might not have to wait for the pizza.” I smiled brightly before biting into another rich, gooey bite.

She blinked rapidly and then leaned over the table. “What did they do to you?”

“ They as in secret government entities, or carbs?” I ate the last of the raviolis and stared at the empty bowl sadly. How long would it take her to break with my idiocy? If she wasn’t going to answer my question, since she’d bothered to set this whole thing up with my husband…

I took a deep breath and looked up at her. “You’re very close to being turned into a toad. I used to like you, so that’s your warning. I’m not as emotionally balanced as I used to be, as I’m sure you’ve figured out by now. Evidenced by my hair.”

She started hyperventilating, quick shallow breaths until the words finally spilled out, one over the other in a torrent.

“Your coven was the first. Ripped apart seemingly from within. By the time they hit Apple City, Winston had gotten the coalition together enough that he could provide stability we needed to pull through when my parents were targeted. Since then, he’s worked tirelessly along with the rest of us, trying to put a stop to the unseen threat. ”

I took a second to process her confession.

That’s how she’d said it, like a confession, rip the bandage off fast, words she never would have chosen to let out of her mouth.

Her parents were dead then. They’d seemed nice.

I mean, disapproving and judgmental and holier than thou, but it didn’t seem like they sucked the lives out of people and buried them in the backyard, so that was a plus.

I guess. Nice wasn’t my forté. She was saying that me killing my mother was connected to her parent’s dying?

Like a serial killer was involved? Impossible, but she seemed to genuinely believe what she was saying.

I nodded wisely. “So the first they . Unseen threat sounds very mysterious and impossible to prove. That’s exactly the kind of threat I’d use if I wanted to build a coalition that gave me power over all the other covens.

The thing I’d like to know is what Winston the Warlock does with so much power.

Using power is almost as exhausting as controlling other people. ”