Page 29 of Warlocks Don’t Win (Singsong City #9)

Chapter

Sixteen

M s. Sultry was in the laboratory café, studying an ancient scrap of parchment while sipping a smoothie that looked like swamp chunks.

“I have the headdresses,” I said, slipping into the booth opposite her. Winston was outside the café, where I’d asked him to stay, looking like a dangerous Warlock in his messy coat. It was a good look for him. Tons of females were slowing down to check him out.

She grabbed my chin, forcing me to focus on her not him. “Do you want some advice?”

I blinked at the succubus who probably understood my energy issues better than anyone in this city. “Not really.”

She smiled, a flash of oozing sensuality that she usually kept covered with her uptight obsession with ancient cultures. “You’ve got this situation with the Warlock handled?”

I gave her a flat smile and started to tell her I was using him for his body and I had it handled very well, but instead I sighed. “Is it that obvious that I’m in over my head?”

She gave a small shrug, red lip standing out against pale skin. Her business suit was sharp, crisp, perfectly black like her hair. “Some of us don’t love easily, but once it is done, there is no alternative but to continue until the end.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but it felt right. I’d been stuck on Winston in love or hate for way too long. “So, what’s your advice?”

Her eyes were thoughtful, sad. “Enjoy it while it lasts, because it won’t. He’ll betray you, or die, or both.”

Ah. Someone who understood betrayal and abandonment. “Which is worse?”

Her slight smile came and went. “Betrayal hurts the pride, but death hurts everything.”

“Betrayal hurts more than my pride. Way more.” I crossed my arms and leaned back. “Anyway. The headdresses will be in my shop when you’re ready to pick them up.” I got up and walked away, aware of the empathy in her eyes as she watched me go towards my doom.

“You have interesting friends,” he said as soon as I left the café, falling in beside me.

“Clients. I don’t have friends.” But if I did, it would probably be Sultry. She didn’t really have friends either, just fellow reenactors.

“Are you lonely? I’ll be your friend if you’re desperate.” His voice was low, somehow suggestive in spite of the innocent words. Innocent? Winston the Warlock? Hardly.

I snorted, loud as an ogre. Sultry suggested that I enjoy being with him when I knew that he was the worst kind of manipulative traitor? Because she also knew that I couldn’t help myself. Why try to fight against the inevitable? Because anything else was madness.

“Do you have a lot of friends?” I asked then added because I wanted to see him flinch, “Nettle.”

He gave me a wide-eyed look and then grabbed my waist and pulled me out of the path of an ogre I hadn’t noticed. Tusks weren’t as distracting as Winston the Warlock, particularly when he had me pressed against his side.

“Careful. No. There’s only one person in the entire world I can trust with my life, my grandmother’s life, and anything else I may have thought was important a year ago.” His focus dropped to my lips.

“I wasn’t going to run into her,” the ogre said, frowning at Winston.

“We’re civilized here. We don’t just run over people because they’re in the way.

She’s clearly distracted with her new mate, but I am not.

That’s why we recommend a period of isolation between new couples so they don’t put themselves and each other in danger. ”

He nodded his blue head at us and then turned and strode briskly down a hall while I shoved out of Winston’s arms and tried not to die of humiliation.

I’d been staring at him and forgotten that we were in a den of thieves.

Not thieves, much worse than thieves. I headed for the exit, fighting the blush from the tips of my green and purple hair to the roots.

We were newly married. Horrifying as that fact happened to be.

Maybe I should enjoy the honeymoon. Ha! Only if it involved decapitating him.

If it was destined to end, and my choices were death and betrayal, I’d choose death.

His death. And I’d choose something agonizing.

I was Rasputin’s daughter, Clary Sage of Salem, most psychotic coven in the world.

My vacation from all of that had ended. It was time to take what I wanted.

I glanced at the Warlock beside me. My skin prickled.

He was just so…delicious. I should enjoy him before I killed him.

Particularly if Sultry was right and I’d never want anyone else.

But then I’d forget that I was going to kill him and forget that I hated him and forget that if I didn’t kill him he would betray me.

“You’re staring at me,” he murmured with a side-long glance.

“Do you have any preferences as to your death?”

“I want you to do it. Slowly. I want you to get as much pleasure out of it as possible. Do you think our meeting in Singsong triggered my grandmother’s curse?”

I shot a look at him. “I didn’t say that.”

“I love your face. So honest. So easy to read. Particularly when you look at my mouth and then talk about how long the curse has been going. It’s about the right time table. What other connections are between our two families?”

“Pardon me for not being a master manipulator in constant control of my facial muscles. Although maybe you’re less than masterful. Parody’s memories aren’t clear.”

He frowned. “Really? I should have stopped while I was in the shop, but I was concerned about my wife, wandering around Singsong City without her heroic familiar when a killer is on the loose.” He made a kissy face at Tolly, the skunk who was happily ensconced in his arms. Traitor.

She gave me a look. I’m just waiting for his guard to be down before I bite him.

Mm hm. I walked briskly away from the laboratory and into the streets of Song.

Those dangerous ways were much safer than staying close to the warlock.

His words prickled. ‘My wife.’ I wasn’t his wife.

At all. But I’d married him, so what else could I be?

His murderer. That would be a much better title.

Wife implied so much domesticity. Like I’d be making sausage rolls for him for the rest of my life.

I hadn’t made any for ages. The Butler made some, but I hadn’t talked to him afterwards about how the delivery went.

Taming Salem Coven wasn’t high on my list of to-do’s.

Why did Portalia come all the way to Salem, hiring a portal, just to talk about my sausage rolls?

Winston cleared his throat. “I have a suggestion.”

“How nice for you.”

He gave me a very nice smile that hid a world of diabolical.

“If you really think that your house is the entity that cast the curse, perhaps we should interview someone else with a sensate bastion who could tell you how to get the house under control or cut off the curse without burning the house down.”

“Burning won’t work, just feeds the curse,” I said with a shrug. “Otherwise, I would have done it by now.”

He raised a brow. “No loyalty to Sage House?”

“No loyalty to anyone or anything,” I said, batting my lashes with fake sweetness.

He smiled at me, eyes soft like caramels. “Of course not. Except for those times you sacrificed yourself for me and mine.”

I sniffed and turned away, glancing at the window we were passing.

Were those tree stumps? Who would sell stumps?

Who would buy stumps? Maybe I should get some in my shop just to see.

“Those with sensate houses aren’t usually chatty,” I said, getting back to his point.

It hadn’t been a bad point, just impractical.

If I walked into a room as the Heir of Sage House, and yes, it did curse someone, let’s chat, there would be no chatting, maybe some screaming. Definitely running.

“I know some people who will be at the neutral witch ball. Hope house’s mistress as well as Dire’s master.”

“Ah.” The fancy ball had gone so well for me last time. I’d thought it went wonderfully at the time, but lies. “Why don’t you go there and get some intel to share with me?”

He pursed his lips. “It would also be a good time to announce our marriage.”

My heart stopped. I grabbed his hand, digging my nails in his flesh while I tried not to hyperventilate. “Are you insane?” I hissed. “We’re not announcing our marriage! I’m going to kill you once I’ve gotten together how to stop acting like I hate you.”

His smile was so sweet, clearly an utter lie. “Of course, but until then, it would be best if people saw our love in action. It would also help me end the rumors floating around about my co-star.”

“Can’t imagine why you’d be having rumors about someone you kiss, publicly, all the time.”

He tilted his head slightly. “You have watched my show.”

I bared my teeth at him.

He laughed and then sighed. “Four kisses in fourteen years is hardly all the time. Still, it was probably four too many.”

“Probably?”

He smiled fully, like he was having fun with this. Of course he was. My irrational jealousy was hilarious. “Don’t tell me that you haven’t kissed at least four people in the last fifteen years.”

“I won’t.”

His eyes widened. “You won’t? You mean you haven’t so much as touched a man in fifteen years? No wonder you’re grumpy. Your magic is based on?—”

“I know what my magic is based on, Winston. And I’m not grumpy.” I definitely sounded grumpy, but I was homicidal. There was a difference.

“You can call me Nettle. I love it.”

I wanted to stab someone. Guess who. I’d been trying to irritate him, but he loved it? What was wrong with him? Also, we were absolutely not talking about our intimate lives over the past however long.

“You really haven’t sucked the life and magic out of anyone in fifteen years?”

Nope, apparently we were. “Four months ago I stole your magic,” I said stiffly.

“But…You’ve really been waiting for me that whole time?”

I shot him a hard look. “Right. The only reason I could possibly have to not run around draining the life and magic out of strapping young men is my love for the man who threw me away in jail. Unless, hm, it might be the lesson I learned before I met you about how men act after I seduce them if I let them live, and how little I like killing people. Don’t worry. For you, I’ll make an exception.”

I flipped my hair and lengthened my stride. We were only a few blocks from the elevators that would take us to Sing’s street level.

“Right. Evan the toad. We should probably talk about that.”

“We already did, otherwise you wouldn’t know about it.”

He cleared his throat. I didn’t like that sound. It meant he was going to say something extremely disagreeable. “Actually, he showed up the other night.”

Yep. I stopped walking. My heart also stopped beating. “That’s impossible. I took him to my mother to take care of.”

“He said that he was stuck in a crypt with the bones of Rasputin. At least that’s what it sounded like he was saying. Wasn’t very coherent for some reason.”

“She didn’t kill him? And now he’s running around talking to people? Did he mention me at all?” I turned to face him. I needed to never have an amorous toad wake me up in my bed again.

He blinked at me twice. “He may have once or twice.”

“Does he want to kill me or seduce me?”

He stared, covering up any emotion he felt. “Both.”

“Dang it!” I kicked the sidewalk and then continued walking, scowling at the werewolves we passed. “If he was going to kill me, I wouldn’t care, but there is nothing worse than waking up with a toad trying to…”

“He’s not a toad anymore. His family has quite a bit of money. They’re going to bring a lawsuit against you.”

A cold chill swept over me. “At least this time I’ll hire a proper lawyer.”

“The best,” he agreed. “The coalition has the best representation in the world. I make a point of it.”

“I’m not part of your coalition.”

“You’re married to the president.”

I shuddered. “Don’t remind me. Why is this day so bad? It started out so good, happy, optimistic… Ah. That’s why it’s crap. You start thinking it’s going to be good and it has to devolve into trash or you’ll forget your place in fate’s coils.”

“Perhaps you can find a new fate.”

“I was trying.”

“The ball is tomorrow night in Apple City. We could take a train in the morning or tonight if you’d like to stay over, go to some shows, see some sights.”

I actually needed to go to Apple City about merchandise, but I wasn’t going to any ball.

Except I had a house that was cursing people.

I had to end the curse. Soon, or it would be too late.

Four months for the curse was a long time.

She was stronger than she looked or my shoulder wouldn’t still be sore and she’d already be very dead.

“You’re thinking about it,” he said, sounding surprised. No, more amused than surprised.

“If there’s a chance to break the curse, I’ll take it, unless the odds are too low that no one will talk to the convict.”

“They might not talk to the convict, but they will absolutely talk to my bride.”

His bride? I was going to be sick. No, I didn’t have time for that. I whirled around, advancing on Winston until he was against a building. I looked at him objectively, eyes, hair, proportions, then nodded.

“We’ll do green and purple. I have just the thing for you in the shop.”

He smiled sweetly. “You’re going to do the costume? You were always good at that.”

“That’s what you say now. My husband matches me. That means stripes. I hope you don’t like any other colors, because you’re never going to wear anything other than green and purple again.”

“Never? That sounds like a long time.” His voice got low and growly as he looked down at my mouth, letting me press him against the brick of the iffy building.

“I’m going to kill you as soon as possible.” Why was his mouth so beautiful?

“That’s right. I almost forgot. Such a good plan.” His voice was so low, eyes so intent.

My lips felt heavy from the weight of his gaze. “Do you want to die?”

“If it makes you feel better about my betrayal, yes. You could kill me every day.”

“Then I’d have to raise you every day.”

“That sounds like a lot of effort.” He kissed me, falling towards me like I was a black hole and he was helpless to resist.

Curse me, I let him.

For too long I soaked up his warmth and energy like a crack addict who hadn’t had a fix for fifteen years.

Who knows how long we would have stayed like that, wrapped in each other until a drunk werewolf woman bumped into us, falling back with curses at the mates who should know better than to have their honeymoon in public, even if they did have an invisibility glamour over them.

Winston glanced at me, breathless, eyes so melting. He didn’t say anything about my glamour, though. Good thing, or I’d have to kill him right this second instead of waiting until I’d convinced the world that I liked him more than I hated him.

Curses.