Page 49 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 49

G retta watched Ansel’s reaction with morbid interest. She’d gotten used to Nat’s appearance a long time ago, but she remembered how jarring it could be at first.

Ansel collected himself quickly. He sat beside her on the leather sofa, close enough that their legs touched.

Nat’s carved eyes looked him over. “So. This is the dust thief.”

“He’s the scientist ,” Gretta said. “The one who’s going to make you even more godawfully rich.”

“Indeed? I’d like to say it’s a pleasure, Mr. Wallenfang, but I don’t generally smile on men who incarcerate my friends.”

Ansel didn’t flinch. “I’d like to say I have a reasonable defense. Unfortunately, I don’t.”

“Brave of you to show your face in my city, then. I can’t decide if her bringing you here makes her underhanded or addled.”

“There is nothing wrong with her.”

“Underhanded, then.” Nat’s arms creaked as he settled them on the desk. “I don’t bother with the police. I’ve a mind to call in a favor and ask one of my former associates to deal with you.”

“Please do. They’re probably old friends of mine.”

Gretta sighed. “Can we skip this part, please? No one’s asking you idiots to pal around over weekend brunch. You’re both here to help each other.”

Silence greeted her. After a few ticks of Nat’s grandfather clock, she sensed a slight dip in the room’s hostile energy.

“Alright,” Nat said. “As a favor to Gretta, I’ll entertain a demonstration of your product without bias.”

She touched Ansel’s knee and nodded at him. Clearing his throat, he set his case on the desk. He unpacked the repellent and a small pouch of germina powder.

He turned to her. “I didn’t bring a plant.”

Gretta held up a finger and dashed to Henry’s desk. A potted aloe sat beside a jar of pencils. She brought it to Ansel.

As he took it, he brushed his finger over hers, and she felt it all the way to her belly. She smiled and sat.

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” Ansel said to Nat, “the only known defense against magic spells is silver. I’ve discovered a way to evenly suspend the particles in room-temperature liquid.”

He gave Nat the same demonstration he’d performed for Gretta. He must have been nervous because he spilled half the germina powder. Henry would be puzzled when he saw his aloe had doubled in size over the weekend.

Throughout the presentation, Gretta kept her eyes on Nat, searching for any reaction. His expression didn’t so much as twitch.

When Ansel finished, he said, “I suppose that’s it. Do you have any questions?”

Nat remained quiet. Ansel glanced at Gretta, and she shrugged. He shrugged back. He packed his things and reclaimed his seat.

“Well?” she said when the silence got awkward. “What do you think? Pretty amazing, right?”

Nat drummed his tiny fingers on the desk. “It has my attention.”

Gretta whipped her face to Ansel, clutching his hand. For Nat, that was the equivalent of a ticker-tape parade.

Nat’s fingers stilled on the desk. “I’d like to speak to Gretta. Alone.”

Ansel squeezed her hand and collected his case. He left, closing the door behind him.

She tried to keep the giddiness from her voice. “I told you—”

“What the hell is going on?”

“…What do you mean?”

“The man kidnapped you, Gretta.”

She slumped into the sofa. “Technically, he didn’t. It was his dumbass henchman.”

“I expected you’d be using his balls as a paperweight by now, not fondling him in my office.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I’m making it my goddamn business. I’m worried about you. I’ve been worried.”

God, she missed when he was just another rich citizen. Becoming chancellor would only make him more condescending.

“Look. Ansel and I have history.” She hesitated. “He’s the boy who was in the cottage with me.”

Nat’s eyes widened a fraction. His small hand flattened on the desk as he leaned forward. “That makes it worse. You’re not approaching him objectively.”

“Save the lectures. My relationship with him has nothing to do with you.”

“What is your relationship with him?”

She thought a moment before opting for the simplest answer. “We’re friends.” Who fuck. And snuggle.

Nat scoffed. Drumming his fingers again, he contemplated her while the grandfather clock ticked.

“We’re wasting time,” she said. “Are you going to invest in him or not?”

Nat studied her longer. Finally, he opened a drawer to remove a bank draft folio and a miniature pen. After some aggressive scribbling, he ripped a half-sheet of paper from the book.

“I will.” He waved the paper to dry the ink. “Despite my personal opinion of the miscreant, his product is compelling.”

Gretta’s excitement dimmed. She knew Nat well enough to hear the ‘but’ coming.

“ But . I have terms.”

“What are they?”

“You will personally head this project. With the election coming up, I don’t have the time, and you seem likeliest to keep the bounder in check. Consider it the career change we discussed.”

“For real?” she said, stunned. When she’d decided to help Ansel, she hadn’t considered she might become a longterm part of his business. She’d never thought to quit hunting, and had definitely never pictured herself behind a desk. The concept brought a stab of anxiety. It would mean more upheaval in her already jumbled life. And giving up hunting felt like losing part of her identity.

But.

Wasn’t this kind of the perfect solution to…everything?

Working with the repellent would do more to fight spellcraft than picking off witches one by one. And hadn’t she been fearing she was burned out, anyway? For godssake, she forgot to take a braid at the aria witch’s hovel.

And now she’d be fighting witchcraft with Ansel . They’d both have jobs—careers they deeply cared about. And he’d have to move to the capital permanently, giving them all the time they needed to figure out whatever the hell needed figuring out between them.

She’d also be his boss. They could have a lot of fun in the bedroom with that dynamic.

Gretta bit her cheek to keep from grinning. “I guess I could be talked into that. What else?”

“There will be a morality clause in his contract. If I hear he so much as spits on the sidewalk, the contract will be terminated, and he’ll forfeit all gains with interest.”

She sat straighter. “He’s a good person, Nat. I get your perspective, but you don’t know him.”

“He signs it or this conversation is over.”

“Fuck, alright. He’ll sign.”

Nat tapped his pen on the desk. His expression drew an icicle of dread along her skin.

“My final term. As this project’s administrator, you will maintain a strictly professional relationship with Mr. Wallenfang. No fraternizing outside work hours, no inappropriate touching. Whatever the hell you’ve been doing, it ends today.”

Gretta dug her fingers into the sofa, making the leather squeak. “You will not tell me who I can be friends with, Nat. This papa bear bullshit is what needs to end.”

“I know you think you don’t need anyone looking out for you, but I’m doing it anyway. This spiral you’ve been on has gotten completely out of hand. The way you’ve taken up with the dust thief only illustrates the fact.”

“Goddammit, I’m not on a spiral! And I’m not your constituent or your kid sister.”

“You’re not my sister, but I’m the closest thing to family you have.”

Gretta scoffed. Maybe that was true once—at least, she’d thought it had been. Not now.

“When did you become such a condescending prick?” she asked. “I swear to god, I don’t recognize you anymore. You used to have fucking integrity, but now you’re just another asshole politician.”

Nat rasped a laugh. “It always comes back to the office, doesn’t it? I’ve changed, yes. I’ve had to. The problem is, you haven’t.”

“Go to hell, Nat.” He had no idea how much she’d changed.

“If the Hag Hacker had her way, we’d still be chain-locking arcana libraries and firebombing potion shops—accomplishing nothing . Those places are only illegal now because of what I’ve done in this office.”

“You had a good first year. Now you spend all day raising money for your fraud of a campaign. When’s the last time you did a goddamn thing to fight witchcraft?”

“I’m funding your dust thief, aren’t I?”

She snorted. “You aren’t funding shit. I’m going to help him find a different investor.”

Nat’s little fingers squeezed the draft, putting a crease in it.

Gretta froze. She sank back in her seat, chewing her lip.

“Go ahead and try,” he said darkly. “If he walks without signing, I’ll have him blacklisted from here to the Pewter Sea.”

“…You wouldn’t.” He absolutely would.

“Try me and find out.”

“He’ll never agree to this, Nat! Neither will I.”

He placed the bank draft on the desk and pushed it toward her. “Present my offer and find out.”

Gretta picked up the draft.

And nearly fell off the sofa.

She’d never seen so many zeros in a row before. It was a ridiculous number, one that had to surpass seed money for anything ever invented. What the hell was Nat’s game?

“What is this?” she asked.

“Call it a yardstick. Or tell him it’s earnest money, I don’t care. Give that to the dust thief, and see how well your friendship measures up.”

Gretta suddenly had trouble catching air. Nat was offering a fortune . A life-changing one. Blacklisting aside, it was more money than Ansel could ever hope to secure anywhere else. It would mean his financial security for life, and it would all but guarantee the repellent’s success.

Still, she fantasized about tearing up the draft and throwing it in Nat’s face. Ansel would want to do the same. She knew he cared about her, and he wouldn’t appreciate the senator’s high-handed bullshit.

But what kind of friend would let him refuse?

“Is this real, Nat? If he takes the deal, you’ll honor it?”

“I’ll have the contracts drawn up this afternoon.”

Gretta’s thoughts and emotions collided, threatening to explode. She pressed her lips together and blanked her expression. No way in hell was she letting Nat see her crumble.

“I’ll present your offer.” She folded the draft and slipped it in her reticule. “But you’re an asshole, Senator.”

She stormed out and slammed the door. On the other side, she fell into a chair and forced back tears, reality hitting her like an anvil falling.

Nat’s offer meant the repellent’s success. In exchange, it meant the end of whatever she and Ansel were becoming. She still didn’t know what that was, but losing it felt like losing half her heart.

She dropped her face in her hands, swallowing the kind of sob she hadn’t contended with in years. She was about to lose her closest friend, the only person who understood her. Curling up in his arms made the world go away, and she’d never feel that again.

She pictured Ansel the boy, shielding her from the Eater. She saw the tears he’d done his best to hide.

Esme’s tears, too. And the tears of children whose names she’d never learned. The emaciated vampire in the witch’s attic, the boys strapped to a bed, the meat cleaver, the butcher block, the jarful of eyeballs…

Gretta bolted upright, sucking in air.

How could she not choose the repellent? Was she actually selfish enough to put her feelings for Ansel above stopping witches? Given the chance, she’d have done anything to prevent Ansel’s years in the cottage.

Even if it meant they’d never have met.

Fighting witchcraft is the most important thing.

Counting backward, Gretta swatted moisture off her cheeks. If Ansel saw her cry, saw any emotion at all, it might sway him the wrong way. He had to take the offer. She needed to convince him. She’d have plenty of time to cry later.

When she got herself under some semblance of control, Gretta smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her skirt and straightened her jacket. She approached the antechamber door, forcing a smile that cracked her heart in half.