Page 17 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)
Chapter 17
A knock came, and Gretta hopped off the armchair in front of the bedroom fireplace. The night was warm, but she’d lit a fire to ward off the damp and get some light.
She paused at the door, putting an ear to it. “Who’s there?”
“Me.”
“What do you want?”
“I brought supper.”
Gretta checked her pocket watch. The evening had blown by much faster than the others.
With an evil grin, she unlocked the door and scampered back to the chair. As Ansel came in with a tray, she theatrically opened the book she’d been reading.
He abruptly stopped.
“You can put the food over there,” she said, flicking her hand at the table. “I want to finish this chapter.” She licked her finger and turned a page.
When he didn’t move, she peeked over the book to find his jaw clenched and his neck flushed. She hid a smile, pretending to be engrossed in reading.
He set the tray down. “Enjoying yourself?”
“Absolutely. You wouldn’t believe the literature I found under your bed. Some interesting artwork, too.”
He faced her with a hand on his hip.
“Of course,” she continued, “such filth must have belonged to the room’s previous occupant, seeing as how practical your tastes run. Mine aren’t so refined, I’m quite enjoying the plot of A Strumpet’s Love. ”
“Very amusing.”
“It really is, especially the bit about the fox hunter and his riding crop. But Ansel, I’m confused…why are the pages stuck together?” They weren’t, but she made a show of flipping through them, grinning.
He plucked the book from her hands. She grabbed for it, but he held it behind his back. Each time she reached around him, he twisted, finally holding it over his head. Tugging on his bicep, she instinctively tried to fly to his raised hand, but her feet remained on the floor.
Gretta’s amusement promptly soured. “Keep it. I was working up to The Lascivious Lusts of Lady Lovecock , anyway.” She sat and pulled another novel off the stack.
Sighing, Ansel tossed the book on the rug. “I need to talk to you.”
“No, thanks.”
“It’s important. And it’s not sentimental in nature.”
Gretta turned a page and raised her brow at a highly explicit illustration, dog-earing it.
Ansel sat in the chair across from her. “The storm’s almost over. I expect it will be gone when we wake tomorrow.”
She eyed the window. Rain pelted it, and the wind howled loud as ever.
“Okay…” she said. “When will you take me to Antrelle?”
“The thing is—”
“There is no thing. When?”
He moved to the edge of his chair. “I’m going to take you, but I have a pressing errand to run first.”
Of course he did.
“Goddamn unbelievable.” Gretta slammed the book down. “I don’t even know why I’m surprised. But don’t put yourself out on my account, I guess. I have my vial of dust, I’ll find my own way back.”
Except, she needed him to come with her, all the way to the capital. Nothing was more important than fighting witches.
Fuck.
“I’ll still bring you to the city,” he said. “This errand will only take a few hours. You can come with me, and we’ll leave for Antrelle immediately after.”
“Uh-huh. I knew your promises weren’t worth shit.”
“This errand will interest you. I’ll take you to the—”
“I don’t want to hear any more of your bullshit, Lab Coat.”
“It’s not—”
“I don’t think you had any intention of bringing me back.”
“Gretta! Listen .” When she glared, he leaned in. “I know the witch you’re looking for. If you’re willing to delay your departure by a few hours, I’ll introduce you to her.”
Gretta’s eyes flared, and she finally stopped interrupting him. Ansel sank into his chair, unsure if he was relieved or unnerved by her obvious interest.
Was he a fool to even consider this? The gentle girl he’d known had developed an unpredictable violent streak, to say nothing of her hatred for witches.
The problem was, he needed to see Isobel as soon as possible. Besides letting her know their business was over and making sure she was safe after the storm, he had to warn her about the wealthy politician on her trail. The best thing all around was if Gretta learned for herself that this witch wouldn’t harm anyone and that she wouldn’t be useful to a senator.
Ansel had a way to curb Gretta’s bloodthirsty impulses. He already dreaded bringing it up.
“You know the swamp witch?” she asked, eyes bright.
“I do. Her name’s Isobel.”
“How do you know her?”
“She helped me once, years ago. We became friends.” She was also his dust broker, but he didn’t think it wise to mention it.
“You’ll really take me to her? Why should I believe you?”
“Why would I lie about that?”
She shrugged.
Ansel ran his hands over his hair, then flattened them on his thighs. “I don’t have any way to prove it until we get there. I can only ask that you use your considerable powers of deduction to recognize that I will not hurt you again.”
“Hm.” She tapped her lips. “You have been rather defanged since discovering who I am.”
He had no defense, so he waited out her answer.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll go.”
A log popped in the fireplace. Ansel agitatedly rubbed his hands together. “Here’s the caveat. If I bring you to her, it will come with conditions. You won’t care for them, but they’re non-negotiable.”
“Oh, really.” Her flippant tone and loose posture suggested indifference, but he could see how badly she wanted this. “What are they?”
“First, you’ll need to treat her with a degree of respect. She can hold her own where insults are concerned, but I don’t want you threatening her.”
“I don’t threaten , Ansel.” She sifted the braids on her belt.
“Right. Which brings me to condition two. There will be no physical violence of any kind. None, Gretta, do you understand? No stabbing, no throat slitting, no—”
She put a hand up. “I get it. I’ll be a good little girl on my very best behavior at grandma’s.”
Now for the part that would really piss her off.
Ansel reached into his pocket and pulled out a bracelet. It was a smooth, pewter cuff with a hinge on one side and a tiny lock on the other. “I’m afraid I can’t take your word on that. I’ll need you to wear this.”
She took the bracelet. When it touched her fingertips, she dropped it like it scorched her. “Are you fucking serious?”
“It’s only an aggression inhibitor,” he said, retrieving the bracelet. “I got it secondhand, there’s barely any magic left in it.”
“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m wearing that thing. Get it away from me.”
“Gretta, I wish I could trust you, but I don’t. I’m not taking you there without it, so consider it my final and most important condition.”
“I’ll control myself! You can’t seriously expect me to wear magic all day.”
Every instinct in him resisted exposing her to something she feared so profoundly, but he couldn’t waver on this. Isobel needed protecting, too.
He put the bracelet away for the time being. “As I said, my conditions are non-negotiable. You need to decide how badly you want to meet her.”
Gretta stared at the fire. After a minute, she looked at him, her fingers digging into the chair’s armrests. “Okay. I’ll wear it. But I have a condition of my own.”
The tension that had drained from him returned threefold. Naturally, she’d see this as an opportunity to debase him somehow.
“Fair enough,” he sighed. “What is it?”
“I want you to come to the capital with me.”
“I’m sorry…what?”
“My boss is going to be highly motivated to help you, and he’ll want to move on this quickly. You can bring your samples and give him a demonstration.”
She’d said something to that effect in the lab, but Ansel hadn’t believed her. He still didn’t. Going to her home and spending a few extra days with her? Too good to be true.
“I’m a criminal,” he said, “not an idiot. I don’t pretend to know what’s motivating your offer, but I don’t believe it’s to my benefit.”
“Of course it isn’t, but this isn’t about you. I’d do anything to get the repellent in the hands of real people. Do you have any idea how important that is?”
“I invented it, Gretta. And I was in the cottage, too.”
“So we’re working toward the same end. If I can put aside our fucked up history for the greater good, why can’t you?”
He supposed fundamentally they did share a goal. While they’d chosen different paths to fighting malevolent magic, they’d both dedicated their lives to it.
Was her offer sincere?
Not a chance. He’d learned long ago to mistrust good fortune. Most likely, she intended to lead him straight to a prison cell, or worse.
Ansel stood. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. I’m going to bed.”
“Ansel,” she called when he reached the door. He turned, and she nervously toyed with the braids on her belt. “Just think about it?”
He’d dream about it, but that was all.
“I’ll see you in the morning.” He nodded at the book in her lap. “Send my best to Lady Lovecock.”
Her snort of laughter followed him as he left.
For the first time in ages, Ansel smiled.