Page 10 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 10

“ M iss Hacker?” Seven called into the cell. “Miss Hacker, is something wrong?”

Gretta curled tighter on the pallet and tucked her knees to her chest with a groan. “I feel sick. Food poisoning, I think.”

Seven set Gretta’s breakfast tray on the floor and peered into the cell. “Nobody else has complained of stomach problems. You’re eating the same food we do.”

“Maybe it’s malaria, then. This place is lousy with mosquitoes.” Gretta swiped hair off her forehead and rolled over. “I think I have a fever.” She squinted at Seven, unsure if she was rousing concern or suspicion.

“I’ll get the director.”

Gretta propped on an elbow and reached out. “No wait, Seven! Please don’t, I… He terrifies me. Yesterday, he said he was going to abandon me in the swamp to die.”

Seven turned back, eyes narrowing.

“Or maybe I misunderstood,” Gretta quickly amended. “I’m on edge. But please don’t bring him here.” She dry-heaved into her empty wash bucket, peeking over the rim. Seven looked uncertain, so Gretta hunched and gagged harder.

“What do you expect me to do for you?”

“I don’t know. Can you at least tell me if I have a fever?”

Seven’s pinkie nail briefly slipped between her teeth. “Alright. If you approach the bars, I’ll feel your brow.”

“I can’t get up. I’m too weak, and it feels like I’m being stabbed in the belly.” She groaned into the bucket.

A pause.

Then tinkling keys.

Gretta chewed her cheek to keep from grinning.

The tumbler in the lock turned, and the door squeaked open. Seven pushed her long, blonde braid aside as she crouched beside the pallet. She hesitantly reached a hand out…

Gretta snatched her arm.

“Wha—!” Seven gasped as she was flipped on her back with the sharpened stick pressed to her side.

“Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll gut you. Give me the keys.” They jangled in Seven’s trembling hand. “Which one locks this cell, and which one opens the back door?”

Seven pointed twice.

“Good.” Gretta pressed Seven’s shoulders into the pallet, watching her lip tremble.

She kind of felt bad. Seven hadn’t done anything to actively hurt her. She seemed more callow than evil, and Lab Coat was hardly a positive influence.

On the other hand, Seven hadn’t done anything to help.

Gretta pushed to her feet, stick still in hand. “I’m sorry, but you’re way too naive to make it as a criminal. Maybe consider a different profession.”

As Gretta went for the door, a screech ripped the air. Seven got to her knees and launched across the cell, snarling curses, pummeling and kicking.

A reasonable effort. She landed a decent blow to Gretta’s tit. But when Gretta slashed the stick across Seven’s cheek, the nymph gasped, face crumpling, and retreated with a hand over the wound.

“You cut me,” Seven breathed.

“I barely scratched you.”

Seven peeled her hand away and stared at the thin, red smear on her palm. Eyes watering, she slapped her hand back in place and let out a scream to wake babies in the next parish.

“ Director! ” she wailed. “HEEEEELP! ”

Gretta bounded out. She flung the door shut, not bothering with the lock. With a desperate, hopeful leap, she tried to fly, but her feet landed with a stumble.

Seven’s howling echoed down the corridor. It was darker than usual, too dark for Gretta to safely gain any speed, but soon she made it to the end. She ran left, crying out when she reached the metal door.

The keys clattered as she picked out the rustiest one. Seven could have lied, but it worked on the middle lock she’d watched Lab Coat use. A yell and heavy footsteps pounded around the corner.

She’d hoped to have more time before Lab Coat came. Now she’d have to dive for the swamp and pray he wouldn’t follow her. There had to be someplace she could hide.

Lab Coat made opening the door look easy, but Gretta had to leverage her feet and use both hands. When she got it open, she sprinted for the path, inhaling gulps of clammy, electric air.

It was morning, but the trees cast twilight shadows. The sky resembled putrefied meat. A chill breeze whooshed through the willows and cypresses, but besides the rustling branches, uncanny silence met Gretta as the path led her into the swamp.

Trying not to think about what waited in the murk, she pushed on, past the clearing. Just a few more yards…

A shove sent her to the dirt. Before she could crawl away, a boot pressed into her back.

“You better pray her face doesn’t scar, sugar.”

Not Lab Coat.

J .

He hauled her to her feet by the collar. Twisting, Gretta screeched and impaled his bicep with the stick. J yelped, his face whipping to her then to his arm. The stick didn’t go deep, but it jutted from his flesh, tilted. He ripped it out and backhanded her.

Gretta reeled like a newborn colt. Head fuzzy, she processed the flavor of wet iron. A roar came from the path, followed by a tall figure barreling toward her.

No, not to her. To the bulky guy with blonde hair.

Lab Coat was coming after J.

When he reached them, he cocked his arm and smashed his fist into J’s face. J didn’t go down, but he stumbled. He sluggishly righted himself, both hands flying to the fountain pouring from his nose.

Like Seven, he looked at his palms with awe. His were soaked in crimson.

“You broke my nose, fucker!” he whined nasally.

Lab Coat’s chest heaved. “I warned you not to touch her.”

The viciousness in his voice shriveled Gretta’s pores. Her latest gambit had clearly pushed him too far. She backed away on unsteady legs.

Lab Coat growled, “Get back here, pixie.”

Her plan was shot, but the set of his shoulders revived her instinct to run. Before she could decide what to do, he abandoned J and prowled toward her. He scanned her cheek, fists balling, and Gretta shifted from foot to foot, ready to bolt.

“Go back to the compound,” he said to J without taking his eyes off her.

“She stabbed me, man.” J stopped mopping his nose to inspect his arm. “You better fucking deal with her.”

“I will.”

What did that mean? Had she been hasty in believing he wouldn’t beat the shit out of her?

J skulked off with his head tipped back. Lab Coat came closer, arms wide as though corralling a wild animal. Far from cold, his expression radiated ferocity.

Gretta trotted out of reach. “Are you really going to follow me if I run?”

“Have you failed to notice the color of the sky? And yes. I will follow you.”

As if he conjured them, fat drops smacked the leaves overhead. A brief delay, then they dribbled on their heads. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky got darker until only the glowing swamp lit the path.

All Gretta’s frustration condensed like the storm. “I’m not going back with you! I’m done .”

“You continue to misunderstand our dynamic. While your bravado is commendable, I’m a great deal bigger than you. I’m afraid physics wins.”

Gretta inhaled. He was actually going to beat her?

Fine , she couldn’t stop him. But hell if she’d cower before him, bawling and pleading for decency he wasn’t capable of. She braced her legs in a defensive stance, lifting her face to his. “Do it, then. I fucking dare you.”

“You don’t think I will?”

“Oh, I do. But I won’t make it satisfying. I’m not going to make a goddamn sound.”

His eyes quirked. “I prefer that, actually.”

“I’m ready.”

His hand came at her face, and Gretta winced. He gripped her chin and turned it to the side, frowning at her cheek. “We’ll need to take care of this after. Jonas is lucky he only got a broken nose.”

Jonas —a name. It wasn’t much, but she could work with it.

And why the hell did Lab Coat care about her bruise? Did he plan to treat the wounds he inflicted himself, too?

She jerked her chin from his grip. “Quit fucking around, and get on with it.”

Mouth thinning, he lowered his hand. “Prepare yourself.”

Gretta pressed her eyes shut. Clenching her muscles, she turned the bruised side of her face away.

She sailed upward, landing on her stomach with a hard oomph . Blood rushed to her head, and her sopping ponytail dangled. Bouncing on his shoulder, she dug her elbows into him and lifted her chest off his back. “What the hell, Lab Coat!”

“You promised to stay quiet.”

“Fuck you! Put me down!”

His arm clamped over her legs. Screaming, she tried to wriggle off. She’d take the beating over being toted around like a misbehaved child, but the more she struggled, the tighter he held her, so she went still, taking stock of her position.

Her kicking feet wouldn’t reach his groin. Slapping his back was asinine. The only vulnerable place she saw was the patch of skin between his collar and hair, where she’d bitten him two days ago. Rain beaded on it, slipping down his neck.

Her mouth dove. She tore into his nape with everything she had.

“ Fuck! ” His grip loosened.

She slid, landing in the mud, and scrambled to her feet before taking off the way they’d come.

She had no plan, no provisions, and no chance. It didn’t matter. Whatever the consequences, self-respect demanded she run.

Bellowing, Ansel gave chase. After watching Jonas strike her, his control was ready to snap.

He snatched her tunic before she launched into the swamp, and she shrieked and twisted, reminding him of a cornered animal more than ever. She spun on him, chest heaving, eyes wild.

The fury on her face made him take a step back. She lunged a step forward, baring her teeth and curling her fingers like claws.

“Easy,” he said, putting his hands up.

She snarled at him and lunged closer. He’d turned her into a feral creature who operated on fight or flight instinct alone.

Ansel lowered his hands. He backed away, giving her space.

How much longer could he keep doing this?

He’d rationalized it well, told himself he hadn’t really harmed her and a week wasn’t that long. The past two days may as well have been a year. Even now, his mind screamed rescue her , though he was the one she needed rescuing from.

What the hell had he let himself become? He truly was no better than the Eater.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

“Pixie, I—”

Shrieking, she charged him. His heel slipped in rainwater, and he went down. She pounced on him, whaling his face with her fists, hitting its most vulnerable spots.

He grabbed her wrists. “Alright! Enough!”

Her knee landed in his groin, and he grunted. He sat, holding her hands above her head as she straddled his lap. “I said — !”

The final word didn’t come out. One of her sleeves had bunched at her elbow, leaving her bare forearm inches from his face, slick with rainwater.

He gaped at it. His lungs stopped working, and he grew lightheaded.

Old burn scars overlaid her skin, but not in random, mottled webs. They swirled in layers of delicate curlicues and twisting vines. A raised pattern of daisies reached the inside of her wrist. They’d faded with time, but Ansel knew that pattern by heart.

His finger had traced it so many times.

“… Gretta ?” he exhaled.

She went still. “How do you know my name?”

Rain pelted Ansel’s face as his thoughts spiraled, arranging the fragments into a whole. His intense reaction to her, the sense of familiarity. The irrational desire to protect her.

It shouldn’t be possible, it wasn’t possible. But his heart knew the truth. It had known for days.

“Answer my question!”

Ansel numbly unbuttoned his cuff. He pushed his sleeve up and turned his forearm out. The same pink curlicues marred his skin, burns from the Eater’s ornate cast-iron oven.

She hesitated as though instinct warned her not to look, and when she finally did, her lips fell open.

Her eyes lifted to his. “ Ansel ?”

He didn’t move. If he breathed, she might vanish again. Electricity built as they stared at each other, but neither of them spoke.

Lightning cracked, followed by thunder. Rain came down harder.

Gretta cried out.

She flung herself against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her face in it. His arms clapped around her. He cradled her head in his elbows, pulling her in tighter, absorbing as much of her as possible, rocking her, inhaling the smell of her hair.

It had never been her dust. He’d reacted to her . His best friend, the only person he ever fucking cherished. He nuzzled her temple, her ear, her jaw, craving her scent deeper in his lungs. He’d given up on finding her so long ago.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, lips grazing her ear. “I can’t believe Jonas found you and not me.”

Gretta’s muscles tightened. She put her hands on his shoulders and reared back.

As he palmed her cheek, brushing it with his thumb, she punched him in the throat.