Page 26 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 26

A s Ansel rowed to the compound, he tried to stop himself from staring at Gretta.

He’d slept better than he had in days, and his dreams had been finer than any he could remember. His subconscious had embellished memory in ways that ought to make him ashamed, but he’d also dreamed of her curled beside him, asleep in his arms.

In reality, she’d barely spoken to him that morning. When he’d smiled at her flushed cheeks and tousled hair, she’d closed her eyes and let out a frustrated grunt. She only snapped out of her morning grouch after shambling to the kitchen to find a letter from Isobel waiting on the table.

Isobel herself—and the gold—had disappeared. And naturally, her letter specified which moment she’d chosen to make her escape.

I knew you scamps would work it out, she’d written. I averted these rheumy old eyes, I swear.

Now Gretta sat on the other end of the boat, poring over Isobel’s chicken scratch.

“I don’t get what she means here,” she said, swatting the paper. “ I’ll miss you and this miserable, malodorous, mosquito-ridden swamp, but I knew my time here would eventually be up. ” She looked at him for the first time in an hour. “Do you think she offed herself?”

“There’s approximately zero percent chance of that.”

“Where do you think she went, then? She mentioned aunties, but I didn’t take her literally.”

“I couldn’t begin to guess.” If Isobel had family, it was news to him.

“Do you know where she comes from?”

“I know as much about her history as you do. In the swamp, we let people keep their secrets.”

She returned to the letter. “Listen to this: My warmest regards to your becursed friend, Gretta. Remind him he’s got power and money, and two out of three ain’t bad! ” She lowered the paper. “Is she mocking Nat?”

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

“I suppose not. Once he gets his hands on her, her clever wit won’t do any good.”

So Gretta intended to continue the hunt? If so, his money was on Isobel. Gretta was tenacious, but Isobel had too many advantages, including a stash of pixie dust and a head start. She’d likely be in a different province by the time he got Gretta to Antrelle.

They approached the prison landing, and she hopped out, leaving him to stash the boat under a tree. He trailed behind her, following the short path to the compound.

He abruptly stopped.

Two figures stood by the door, one tall, the other gigantic. Gretta cried out and ran toward them. The massive figure stepped from the shadows and scooped her into his tree trunk arms.

What the hell was a troll doing there? And why was Gretta clinging to him like a goddamn sloth? She kissed the bastard’s cheek, and the last wisps of Ansel’s good mood evaporated.

“Gretta,” he said when he reached her. “Who are they?”

The less enormous figure left the shadows. A dark red cloak concealed his face, but his hands looked human. One had a small bird tattoo between the thumb and forefinger. He stepped in front of Gretta as if to shield her.

Ansel hated him on sight.

“Gretta,” the cloaked man said. “Who the fuck is he? And what happened to your face?”

She waved her hand. “It wasn’t him. What took you so long to find me?”

The troll gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze, and Ansel wanted to rip off the arm that touched her.

“I couldn’t pick up your scent until the storm cleared the air,” the troll said. He turned to Ansel. “Do you run this operation? We’ve spoken to the pixies, so I recommend an honest answer.”

His tone sounded more reasonable that the other man’s, and despite his size, his posture didn’t suggest aggression. He wore no weapons over his plain clothes, and his sage-brown hair was conservatively cropped. He hardly resembled Ansel’s idea of a troll.

Except for the fangs. And his skin—it was the dusky color of juniper needles.

“He asked you a question,” the cloaked man said.

“Yes, I run this operation. And before you ask, I’m also the one who held Gretta captive.” There was no point in hiding it, since she certainly wouldn’t.

Metal scraped as the cloaked man unsheathed a long, vicious blade. He pressed the tip to Ansel’s heart, flooding it with adrenaline.

Ansel swatted the knife away, and it resettled at his neck. He balled his fists and considered smashing one into whatever lay under that hood.

Gretta pulled the man back.

“Ansel, this is Philip,” she said, jerking her head at the cloaked man. “That’s Brand.”

He’d ask what they were doing there, but why bother? Clearly, Gretta was being rescued.

When Philip stalked closer, Ansel held his ground. They were about matched in height and weight. It had been years since he’d gotten into a good brawl, but he liked his chances if the asshole put the knife away and fought him square.

“This podunk operation is finished,” Philip said. “Amuse me with a reason why I shouldn’t spill your entrails where you stand.”

“We should bring him to the police,” Brand said.

Ansel’s palm craved the pistol hidden in his office. He’d cheerfully take this Philip on with fists, but he wasn’t about to tangle with a troll unarmed.

“We’re not killing him,” Gretta said. “And we’re not giving him to the cops.” She turned to Ansel. “I need to talk to you.”

Before he could respond, she dragged him off.

“Stay where we can see you,” Philip called.

Ansel and Gretta stopped at the swamp’s edge. Crossing her arms, she asked, “Are you coming with me or not?”

He’d been so distracted by their night together, he hadn’t given any more thought to her offer. Her arguments about fighting magic had been compelling, all but convincing him she didn’t intend to turn him in.

So what was there to consider? Her offer amounted to a choice between potentially funding the repellent and…what? Never seeing her again?

If he went with her, it only meant a delay of their final separation, but what if Isobel had been right? What if he only needed time to win Gretta’s forgiveness? If there was any chance of that at all, he needed to try.

Because she had cared for him once, he knew it. Maybe she could again?

Filled with new purpose, Ansel straightened. “I’ll go.”

Gretta’s shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t realized how tense they were until he answered.

“I need to tie up loose ends here,” he said. “It should take an hour. And I want assurances Seven and Jonas won’t be trifled with.”

Letting Jonas off the hook grated, but she had to trust he’d eventually piss of the wrong party and get his comeuppance. Gretta had bigger things on her mind.

Nodding, she dragged Ansel back to the others.

“I’m bringing Ansel to meet Nat,” she told them.

“Why?” Philip barked.

“Because he invented anti-witchcraft technology and needs an investor. Nat will be interested.”

“You intend to repay the degenerate who kidnapped you with money ?” Brand asked. “Nat will probably toss him in prison himself.”

“Maybe, but he’ll lock him in a lab for a few years first.” When Ansel arched a brow at her, she shrugged.

“We’re not hauling him all the way home,” Philip said. “He’s dead weight at best, a liability at worst.”

“ We’re not doing shit. I’ll deal with him.”

“Gretta—” Brand said.

“Stop,” she said, throwing her hand up. “I appreciate that you came for me, but I’ve made up my mind.”

All three men stood in silence.

After a moment, Philip scoffed. “Your call, pixie. We’ve wasted enough time here. But if he takes off on you, I’m not helping track him down.”

“I will not be leaving her,” Ansel said. “Now tell me what you did with my people.”

Brand waved his massive hand at the sky. “The pixies who could fly have been released. Philip put the nymph in a cell.” With coldness that surprised Gretta, he continued, “It’ll be good practice for where she’s going.”

“She was only my administrative assistant,” Ansel said. “You will release her immediately!”

“She’s an accessory to a crime.”

Gretta put a hand on Brand’s arm. “She never actually hurt me. I don’t want her sent to jail.”

Brand stared at her incredulously. “What the hell happened to you? Have they threatened you? Put a spell you?”

“No, but that reminds me—I met the swamp witch.”

Gretta quickly filled them in on Isobel.

As Brand and Philip discussed the development, Ansel spoke in Gretta’s ear. “What about the pixies? Some of them won’t be able to fly for a few days. I can’t desert them here.”

“I’ll send the cops down when we get to Antrelle. Seven can keep an eye on them until then.”

“I’m not leaving Seven to the police.”

Gretta sighed. No way in hell was she spending another moment in the prison, and now that Ansel had agreed to meet Nat, she wanted to move fast. “Then Brand will stay. We’re not missing that train.”

“I don’t want a troll anywhere near Seven.”

As much as trolls and nymphs hated each other, Gretta knew Brand wouldn’t harm a woman, and she definitely couldn’t imagine Seven provoking him.

“Brand’s a good person,” she said. “He won’t touch her.”

“Have you forgotten she’s a nymph? He doesn’t set foot in the facility until I see her off.”

The set of his jaw warned her she was wasting her breath. “Will you agree to it if I give you time to send her away?”

“I…suppose.”

“New plan,” she announced, interrupting the other men as Ansel hurried away. “Brand, you’re going to stay behind until the cops come for the pixies.”

“ What ?”

“It should only be a few hours. You can take tomorrow’s train home.”

“Absolutely not!”

Philip muttered his irritation and headed for the horses.

Gretta squeezed Brand’s hand. “Please do this for me?”

“I’m not a babysitter, Gret. And I’m not dealing with a nymph.” He crossed his bulging arms. “She’ll probably piss her pants at the sight of me.”

“She’ll be gone within the hour, you won’t even meet her.” It suddenly struck Gretta as a bit of a shame. Under better circumstances, Brand would have been the perfect person to lure Seven from her shitty boyfriend. If they were different species, anyway.

“I know it’s a lot to ask,” she continued, “but technically you’re my assistant on this hunt. Staying behind would assist me.”

“You found the witch, you’re not technically hunting.”

“It’s just a few hours.”

He snorted.

“ Please , Brand?”

His barrel chest rumbled as he stonily eyed the prison.

Then he sighed.

Ansel stalked through the facility, searching for Seven. He found her locked in a cell in the western block, sitting on a bench with her knees gathered to her chest. Her disheveled braid lay coiled beside her.

She rushed to the bars. “Director!”

“Are you alright?”

“Fine, I suppose.”

He unlocked the door and hauled it open. They hustled down the corridor, toward his office.

“Where’s Jonas?” he asked.

“Hiding, I think.”

Naturally. Ansel almost wished his cousin had simply jumped ship—Seven would have been better off.

“Who was the man in the red cloak?” she asked, trotting beside him. “He wouldn’t speak to me.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No. He frightened me is all. Who is he?”

“Gretta’s friend.” In this context, the word tasted vile.

They reached his office, and Ansel opened the safe.

“We should never have held her captive,” Seven sighed. “We deserve to go to jail.”

“Maybe, but that isn’t going to happen to you.” After pocketing a few bills, he divided a thicker stack between two envelopes. He handed one to Seven. “Take this and go. The police will come soon, and I don’t want you here when they arrive. Before you go, distribute this among the remaining pixies.” He hesitated. “Don’t leave through the back. Pack quickly, and get out as soon as possible.”

“What about Jonas?”

Ansel felt his jaw tic. He could already picture his cousin’s pocket fat with Seven’s envelope. “He’s free to do as he pleases. More importantly, so are you.”

“What will you do?”

“I’m going to the capital with Gretta.”

Despite the circumstances, a smile played at Seven’s lips. “Miss Hacker has forgiven you?”

“No.” But I intend to work on that. “She’s going to introduce me to a potential investor.”

Seven’s smile broke into a grin. Besides working for the dust farm, she’d been his lab assistant. If the senator invested, Ansel would owe her a great deal more than what that envelope contained.

“I’ll maintain my mailing address in Antrelle,” he said. “Whenever you’re settled, send me a message with your contact information.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “And you’ll reach out to me if you ever need help.”

She looked at their joined hands. “So our business is truly over?”

Her forlorn expression tugged on his gut. While he and Seven had more of a professional relationship than a personal one, saying goodbye made him realize how fond of her he’d grown. When Jonas had brought her in, she’d been timid and self-conscious, but she’d transformed over the years. She added competent stability to their operation, warmth to the dank facility. And whatever fear she held for this new chapter, Ansel knew to his core that Seven would find her way.

“We’ll meet again,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”

With a lukewarm smile and a stiff nod, Seven tucked the envelope in her dress pocket.