Page 32 of Warlocks Don’t Win (Singsong City #9)

Chapter

Eighteen

T he ball was in a large building built out over the ocean so it looked like it was going to topple at any moment. The people weren’t just high society witches, but magic users from all over the place, living on the edge. Literally, at tonight’s ball.

The Grand Sorcerer was there at the bottom of the steps wearing her trademark fedora and gold chains.

I probably should have put more thought into her look when I designed it for her, but the scarred face went mafia so easily.

Scars would have been easier for me to style than stripes, but we all work with what we have.

I stood next to Winston on top of the broad stairs for a moment, picking out other familiar figures.

The Dealer, Cara, Silas…My gaze went back to the Dealer.

His escort had white hair and an aqua gown with much more coverage than her usual shocking outfits.

She looked practically respectable, but I guess money does that to a person.

I was aware of the looks directed at me, to Winston, then back to me, calculation in every gaze, except for the Grand Sorcerer who strode up the steps she must have just gone down, her focus clearly on me.

“Stripes?” she asked, cocking her head to study me, like she wasn’t quite sure I was the right striped person. I’d kept my eyebrows dark, straight, perfectly tweezed.

“Anna. I got a new shipment of fedoras from a recently dead Italian mob boss. Direct from Napoli. You should come in some time and check it out.”

She nodded and smiled, wrinkling up her scar.

I had to respect the way she didn’t let her imperfections influence her happiness.

“I should. You really do know how to dress couples.” She gestured at me and Winston, then gave him a double look.

“The Warlock Detective? You look so much more interesting than usual.” She leaned forward and sniffed him before she straightened and nodded.

“And you smell even better. What is that? Do you have the name of the seller so I can pick some up for my husband? Our anniversary is coming up, and what do you get the man who already has everything?”

“I have some ties,” I said as her daughter joined her. She’d been talking to someone else when her mother went backwards instead of continuing appropriately into the vast ballroom.

“Ties to Winston?” Gabby said, giving the Warlock a look that was deeply suspicious, also more than slightly contemptuous. He’d sold his magical soul to the media.

“Ties for hanging,” I said with a sweet smile at Winston before I gently stroked his delicious skin from ear to collar. Strangling him would feel so good.

His eyes flickered with purple lightning and my skin prickled with awareness. Was that wifely? I couldn’t tell. My parents had danced together, but not publicly. No, Rasputin and his animated bones were not for public of any kind.

“Wait, you guys are really together?” Gabby asked while her mother looked at him intently.

“I’m serious about that cologne. Are you one of those people who keep all the good vendors to themselves? Hm?”

He glanced at me, like he wanted to know what I thought about all this.

I shrugged. “Old people are weird.”

Gabby made a choking sound to cover up her laugh while Winston smiled charmingly at the Grand Sorcerer. “I’ll be certain to send you a bottle. It’s my own home brew. I’m trying to seduce my wife. You don’t think it’s too strong? I was worried it lacked subtlety.”

I elbowed him. “You’re the one who lacks subtlety. Sticking the ‘W’ word in there where it doesn’t belong.” Also, he’d intentionally tried to smell better to me? Why would he do that? I was already stupid enough about him.

“Well we were going to announce our marriage publicly.”

I winced and then stood up straight. “That’s right. We are married and in love. I would never intentionally kill him, however many times I’ve been convicted of murder.”

“You were acquitted,” Winston said.

Gabby’s eyes brightened as she studied me. “You were acquitted of murder? How long were you in jail?”

“Five years. Winston here wrote to me every week and kept our love alive.” I batted my lashes at him while he looked slightly queasy.

“Are you going to stand here all night, blocking the stairs?” The woman behind us demanded. She looked familiar, long dark hair, large eyes, managing helpless and femme fatale at the same time.

“Oh! You’re Felicity Raven,” Gabby said, looking at the woman’s nails. They were tipped in gold that matched her gown.

Wait, this was the woman who kissed my husband? I stepped against Winston, smoothing my hand up his chest before she could realize who he was.

The exact second she tied the man in the purple suit to Winston the Warlock, her whole vibe shifted, like a flipped switch. She looked at me with this big shock, then at him with hurt and vulnerability.

“Winston? Do you need help with your stalker? I’d be glad to lend you a few of my bodyguards.” She pulled out her phone like she was going to text one of them.

“I can take out a few bodyguards,” I said coolly, still feeling up Winston’s pectorals.

Winston coughed to cover up an inappropriate laugh as he smoothed his arm around my waist and pulled me tightly against my side, making it impossible to feel him up at all.

“Lois, this is my wife, Clary Sage.”

She frowned in confusion. “Wait, you married the show’s competition?” Then to me, “You look different off screen. Much shorter. And what’s with the hair?”

“No,” Winston said softly, gripping my waist even tighter as he spoke clearly, focused, like he wanted to be heard. “This is the real Clary Sage of Sage House, in Salem.”

There was a moment of utter silence and then Gabby broke it. “Aaaah. You were convicted of murdering your mother. Grisly case. You were acquitted on a technicality, not because anyone actually thought you were innocent. Also, wasn’t that like twenty years ago?”

I glanced at her. She still looked intrigued, not shocked.

Lois gurgled and then launched a tirade. “You think that you can come here and seduce the greatest warlock of our time? You…you…harlot!”

I sniffed. “Wow, really bring the big guns. Harlot? That’s really the best you can do?” I tugged Winston down the steps with me. “Nice announcement,” I murmured. “Did you magically project your voice so that everyone heard you?”

“Yes. Where are we going?”

“Dancing. We’re going to dance and look madly in love while everyone gossips about us. Then, when it seems like I’m more or less in control, you can introduce me to the house people.”

He smiled and nodded at people we passed until he swung me out in a small space and began dancing.

The music started and his grip on my waist tightened while he pulled me into a close hold, close enough that I could feel his warmth.

He was so warm, from his hand against my back, his body against my heart, to his eyes, gazing down at me.

“Stop that,” I hissed, trying to look pleasant.

He raised a brow. “Stop what?”

“You look like I’ve seduced you out of your mind. We’re selling happily married, not me draining the life and magic out of you before burying you in the back yard.”

“This is exactly how my father looked at my mother. They were very happily married.”

“It’s not how my father looks at my mother.”

He raised a brow and pulled me close. “Was your father actually Rasputin? It’s not possible.”

“I suppose it could be another dead Russian obsessed with vodka, but I doubt it.”

His lips were so close to mine. If I moved my head an inch, I’d be kissing him. “Did you ever dance with him?”

“Of course. He was a much better dancer than my mother. Didn’t you notice what an accomplished dancer I was?”

He sighed heavily. “I didn’t notice anything other than how good you felt in my arms. Now that you mention it, you are a very excellent dancer. We’ll have to thank your father.” He moved slightly out of the alignment, lips brushing mine.

The feel was electric satin running over all of my extremities like a lint brush. I gripped his shoulders and oozed into a puddle of green and purple sludge. ‘I’m melting,’ some distant part of me cried while my heart thrummed and my spine turned into butter.

He pulled away, still supporting my weight because otherwise I would have become one with the excellent maple flooring.

He cleared his throat. “Clary, do you know the Dealer? His house is sensate. And of course Madame Mercury. It’s good to see you again.”

I straightened up, looking at the woman with the white hair who was so notoriously attractive, no dark sorcerer could possibly resist. She looked sweet, kind, and was trying not to blush.

Diabolical, clearly. I held out my hand and then when she took it, I shook and squeezed harder than necessary. “I’m Clary Sage, convicted murder and wife of Winston. It’s so good to meet friends of his.”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head rapidly. “I’m not friends with him. I mean, we’ve met once, that is, twice, but I don’t remember the first time. It was a busy week.”

The Dealer snorted and put his hand over ours, subtle magic numbing my fingers so I stopped gripping her and she could pull away easily.

“Clary Sage. It’s a pleasure to meet the wife of the man so many find indecently attractive.

It’s good to see that you’re going to keep him in line.

If you touch my wife again, however, we will be spilling blood.

” His smile was sharp, muddy eyes flickering silver.

I froze. Right. This wasn’t nice wife behavior. This was possessive, irrational, ‘everyone could see that she was on the brink of flying into a jealous rage and murdering him,’ vibe.

Oops.

I laughed, bared my teeth and leaned against Winston. “Oh, so funny. Don’t you love balls? So filled with respectable people. I just adore it. Anyway, your sensate house, has it ever cursed someone? Maybe with a…I don’t know…random death curse like, say, Moridia Fleur?”