Page 35 of Warlocks Don’t Win (Singsong City #9)

“He is ridiculously handsome.” How long could I lay here with a sharp bone poking into my left scapulae?

It felt femur sized. I should rescue Winston, but trying to walk out of here was practically impossible.

If only I had a broom. I’d gotten almost adequate at flying once upon a time.

Fine, it had been unstable levitation and every time I tried to move in any particular direction ended up concussing myself.

I took a deep breath and forced myself upright, using the energy remnants in the bones to stabilize me.

Yes. I’d just walk six inches above them.

Very sensible. “You’re saying that you didn’t actually bury anyone in the yard?

But I dug so many graves.” I spread my arms and focused on maintaining those six inches that kept me from getting rolled like a log.

“Appearances need to be maintained. You know that.”

“For what purpose? Who do you think was watching?”

“The Salem Coven for one, not to mention all the other monsters hungry for power. Sage House is a place of power. It’s always been a target.”

“Salem Coven is stupid.”

“You claimed it. Shouldn’t call something stupid if you’re going to be its voice.”

I choked on my breath, or maybe that was the bone dust. “No. Tabitha worked hard to claim Salem Coven. She can keep it. It’s none of my business. Absolutely not.”

“Then you shouldn’t have used your position as voice of Salem to challenge the house. The coven is coming. They might try to burn Sage down. It won’t be the first time. She loves being burned. It’s like an extra coat of polish to her, a resin coat.”

Somewhere high above me, I thought I heard a low moan. Was that Winston? My heart beat faster as I spread my fingers and pressed against the will of the house. This was the heart of Sage House, not my mother’s bedroom. But if I was in the heart, I could crush it.

My voice came out loud and rich. “You will break the curse and stop attacking the Winstons. He is bound to me, heart and soul. You witnessed that binding. We protect those who are bound to us. And you will be a proper House for a proper witch.”

My mother snorted. “Proper witches do not run Salem Coven. Proper witches get burned.”

I shot her a look before I refocused on the house. It was so massive, stretched above me, around me, so much life beneath my feet that fed its life and will. Maybe my mother hadn’t given it bodies to bury, but generations had.

I took a deep breath as I stretched my will through the fibers of the wood and stone, feeling my own soul stretch and crumple at the effort. I was sweating. My hair was also levitating around me, waving on an invisible wind.

“You will release them,” I whispered, but my will and soul were stretched thin, almost to snapping as I pressed against that weight, until I found the core of its life and swallowed it.

I was Sage House. I could see the lines of energy spreading from the house to every witch linked to it. The Salem coven, the television crew, Winston who was stuck between floors, and then that strong bond reaching towards Bosty and Dame Wilson.

The curse was a beautiful thing, growing, stretching, devouring. It was a pity to pull out the roots one by one until the flower wilted and melted away in a rush of wind.

I blinked and found myself back in the immaculate front hall, Winston stretched on the floor beneath me, wearing nothing but very ripped pants.

His muscles were so raw and delicious. Like the rat tail wrapped around his ring finger.

I took a step towards him and then the effort caught up to me and I stumbled on top of him, sprawling so my face was between his pectorals.

It could have been worse. Skulls would have been much worse.

“Clary?” he mumbled, not moving.

“’Sup? I think I broke.”

“Broke what?”

“Yep. My brain. My soul. The curse.”

His arm flopped and his hand landed on my head. “Cool. I feel like I’ve been through a wood chipper.”

“That’s what your pants look like. But the house was good and left your legs. You have real pretty legs. Wood chipping legs isn’t pretty.”

He gurgled a laugh. “I’ll take your word for it. Being crushed by floors is awesome. Should market it to the masses.”

I snorted a laugh and rubbed my face against his skin. “Do you have a lot of slivers? Sage House is notorious for slivers.”

He flopped his other arm and then his hand landed on my lower back. “I feel like I have no skin. Does that indicate slivers? I’m passing out now. I love…”

I waited for him to finish, but he could be saying he loved slivers for all I knew. Come to think of it, passing out was a really good idea.

I drifted off and didn’t wake up until the door slammed open along with a mighty gust of wind.

Winston rose into the air, spinning, dropping me onto the floor. Ow. I squinted at the figure standing in the doorway, outlined by a flare of light behind her. Dress. Long. Very witch tea-party. Ah. Someone from Salem Coven was here to murder me. About time.

She stepped across the threshold and split the marble across the hall with the force of her will. A serious witch then. And Winston was still wrapped in her energy floating above my head. He was struggling. Was she hurting him?

That thought broke through my haze. I sat up and rolled to my feet, grabbing onto the side table for stability.

“You shouldn’t have broken the curse,” the witch said, tones as proper as they could be.

I stared at the figure until the light shone on her patrician face. Strong bones, hooded eyes, distinguished nose. Winston’s grandmother recovered quickly.

“What are you doing?” I looked up at Winston while he struggled more fiercely against the invisible bindings she’d wrapped him in. Could he breathe?

“I’m killing you. Are you really so na?ve that you can’t see the truth even after Winston confessed his black heart to you?”

I looked from Winston to her and back again. He looked very nice without a shirt, even if his skin was distorted, compressed by her will and magic. “He says he loves me. I’m not sure he’ll be okay with you killing me. Unless you kill him too.”

I absolutely would not let her kill him.

A slight frown creased her brow. “You maintain your foolish protectiveness towards the creature who destroyed you? Why would you let love make you so weak?”

Love? I didn’t love Nettle Winston. But we were both such good hair serums. Think of the hair serums we could make together. We could sell them in the shop along with his incredible cologne.

“Are you going to kill him too?” I said instead of arguing the love thing. That was the main point. If she intended to kill him, I’d definitely have to stop her. No idea how I was going to do that when standing upright was pretty iffy.

“No,” she said giving him almost a soft look.

“He’s too valuable to destroy. The way he united witches under your banner was positively inspiring.

” Her lips curled in a cruel smile for a moment before it faded into a sneer.

“I will make him forget about you. I will remind him of his place, to rule those who are too weak to protect themselves.”

Could she really make him forget me? He’d seemed pretty fixated on me in those moments of honest madness. He writhed above me, fighting as hard as he could. Such pretty muscles.

I shook my head and straightened up. “He’s not going to forget about me.

He loves me. No idea why, because it makes absolutely no sense for him to fall in love with me after he sends me to jail, but these dark warlocks aren’t particularly rational.

If you kill me, he’ll kill you or die trying.

It would be better if you thanked me for breaking the curse and left now. ”

She raised her hand in a gesture that sent me flying across the hall. I hit the wall and fell to the floor with a thud that knocked the wind out of me. How nice to know that I’d had wind I could lose. I’d wondered.

She was really doing this. I guess I should call for backup. The coven was supposedly on the way. They’d probably throw their lot in with her until I was dead and then backstab her, but at least it would be good to see their conniving faces before I died.

I pressed my palm to the floor and reached through the house, the surrounding lands, to the mausoleum and the bottle of vodka that still had some liquor in it.

I exerted as much will as I could, rolling over the floor while the bottle flew through the air, hopefully hitting some bones and shattering in them.

“You’re wasting your energy,” the old woman said, taking another step into the house. Another crack spread from her foot outward. The house was resisting her, trying to push her back, but she was so strong. So much stronger than she should be.

“Really? You think I should relax while you kill me? Did Winston’s parents relax? What about Cara’s?” I started the incantation that would raise my father’s bones in my head, forming each phrase carefully.

Her eyes flashed. “You know nothing about such things.”

“Killing people? Actually, I do. Maybe we could work together, take down the ones who… Actually I’m not sure what they did to deserve being killed, but when has a Sage ever needed a reason?

” Could I get up to my knees? Maybe. Was there a point to not staying on the floor where it would make it more difficult for her to throw me around?

It was hard to keep the incantation going while I talked and moved, but it was the only hope I had of getting out of this alive.

Portalia wouldn’t put the Singsong Coven at risk for me.

And she might be part of Dame Winston’s crew.

Her lip curled. “Winston’s parents were out of control. He refused to follow the path of truth and enlightenment. I couldn’t let that much strength become a desolating scourge. And his son. He would have been raised badly. I had to save him from that.”