Page 28 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 28

T he dining car teemed with passengers chatting over plates of food and glasses of wine. More than a few eyebrows lifted when Gretta clattered in and almost collided with a server.

She steadied the man’s tray before any dishes fell off. “Sorry. But since I’ve got you here, I’ll have a whiskey double.”

The cash she set on the tray improved his demeanor. He briskly resumed his path through the car as Gretta noticed Philip at a table in the corner. She dropped into the chair across from him.

A plate full of crumbs sat between them. He hadn’t waited for her, but that was fine. Tonight, her dinner would come in a glass.

Philip lowered his newspaper. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Nothing.” The server deposited her drink, and she ordered a second one, tipping him for his speed. She took a healthy swallow, unsure how she’d survived the past few days without liquor to soothe her. “What do you want to talk about?”

Philip folded the paper and tossed it aside. “I’d hoped to have this conversation with you sober, but seeing how rare an occasion that is these days, I’ll jump right in. Nat’s taking you off the field.”

Gretta’s glass stopped at her lips. “What?”

“The swamp witch was your final hunt. You’re reassigned, effective immediately.”

The liquor in her stomach churned, threatening to come up. The conversation with Ansel had depleted her, leaving no room whatsoever for this bullshit. “Hold on. Nat sent you here to fire me?”

“You’re not fired, you’re reassigned.”

“Since when?”

“Since that lust witch’s dead body made national papers. I told you, people are sniffing around.”

They’d been sitting on this for weeks, then? All the time she’d spent in Antrelle, working, sweating, getting kidnapped—they’d been planning to can her the whole time? “She had teenagers chained in her basement!”

“Regardless. You’ve left too many corpses in your wake, and it’s jeopardized all of us. Especially Nat. You can’t seem to stop yourself, so he’s doing it for you.”

She finished her drink in one swallow and thunked the glass on the table. “I think you’re full of shit. Nat would tell me himself if it was true.”

“He’ll discuss it with you when we reach the capital. This conversation is a professional courtesy.”

Gretta cracked a laugh. “Courtesy, right. You’ve wanted me out for years. At least admit it.”

Philip slid his empty plate aside and leaned on his forearms. “You’ve been out of control for a long fucking time, Gretta. Don’t pretend you didn’t see this coming.”

“I’m the only one who’s actually been fighting witches! You and Nat are the ones who changed, not me.”

Two ladies in gaudy hats looked over, whispering to each other. Gretta glared at them. The server returned with her second whiskey, and she dumped a quarter of it down her throat.

When the hell would she start feeling it?

Philip’s hood remained fixed on her. “Did you really believe nothing would change when he became senator? Did you think the street tactics and violence were sustainable?”

“Maybe not, but I didn’t expect him to become such a coward or for you to become his simpering toady. Between the three of us, I’m the only one with any balls.”

“ You’ve become reckless and undisciplined.”

“I did exactly what he asked. I found an illusion witch.”

“Where is she, then?”

Gretta flinched. “I know her face and name. I’ve seen the currency she uses. Nat can’t give up on me when I’m so close.”

“This isn’t about your capabilities. He’s seen the downward spiral hunting has put you on, and he’s worried. After seeing you cozied up with the dust thief, I’m worried. ”

Philip was wrong about her relationship with Ansel, and Nat only cared about getting elected chancellor. Apparently, a little thing like loyalty to his friends wouldn’t interfere with the illustrious Senator Grey’s ambition.

As much as the idea infuriated her, it also hurt. Which only pissed her off more. “So what happens now? Should I collect my walking papers and final paycheck, or will he mail them to me?”

“He’s expecting you the day after tomorrow at noon. He’ll find something else for you.”

“Pass. I’d rather muck horse shit than let him stick me in the typing pool.”

And Nat couldn’t stop her from hunting. She’d get some other job to pay the bills and hunt on the side. Maybe this betrayal was even a blessing in disguise. If she went out on her own, she might rediscover passion for her work. The flare of relief she’d felt when Isobel disappeared shook her.

Gretta lifted her fresh glass, and Philip put a hand on her arm. “Can we have one conversation where you aren’t getting sauced? This is part of the problem.”

“It’s not your business anymore. Or Nat’s.”

Philip quietly growled. “Fine. I’ve said what I came to. It’ll take time for you to digest this, but if you’re smart, you’ll see it as an opportunity.”

Opportunity her ass. Nat knew hunting was more than a job for her. Other than Ansel, he was the only one who understood how she felt about witches. Taking that from her was like stripping away the most fundamental piece of her identity.

“Don’t do me any favors.” She drained her glass.

“Don’t be a pigheaded asshole.”

“Fuck you, Philip. And fuck Nat.” She stood, bracing herself on the table. “I’ll be at the bar.”

He made a sound of disgust and snatched up his newspaper.

As Gretta navigated the tables on her way to the door, an elderly matron sniffed and dragged her skirt out of the way. Gretta swallowed the undisciplined comment that came to her lips.

The next train car held the bar. It was dim and mostly empty. Three human men quietly played cards at a table, and another sat by himself with a top hat beside him. He nodded politely when she dumped herself on a leather-covered stool, then he resumed ignoring her.

“Whiskey,” she told the bartender. “Actually…brandy.” Too much whiskey made her an angry drunk. She wanted to relax, not get arrested.

The blank-faced bartender gave her a generous pour, and she thanked him. She forced herself to savor the first sip, swirling it around her tongue. Once that was out of the way, she took three deep gulps.

The brandy’s warmth spread through her perfectly. It was exactly what she needed to forget she’d become an unemployed chump in the space of twenty minutes. Even Brand would understand.

She thumped her elbow on the bar and put her chin in her hand.

She’d need to look for a new job fast. She lived cheap and had savings, but it would only go so far. The most difficult part would be finding something that gave her enough time to keep hunting, plus enough income to foot the costs. Jobs like that weren’t easy to come by, especially when one’s resume consisted of a single, highly niche field.

Nat would probably be willing to embellish her work history, but hell if she’d ask him. She’d clearly misjudged their relationship. They’d been friends since she was practically a kid, yet he didn’t respect her enough to fire her in person. For all Ansel’s faults, he would never abandon her like this. If anything, she was going to need a crowbar to pry him off when they got to the capital. He’d asked her to punish him, to use him, rather than leave him.

She dropped her forehead to the bar. She was supposed to be forgetting her shit day.

Gretta polished off her drink and ordered another.