Page 5 of Beyond the Cottage (After the Fairytale #1)

Chapter 5

A new set of footsteps came down the corridor, waking Gretta from a doze.

Birds had replaced the crickets outside, and their song made her temples throb, mocking her with cheer. The humidity was thicker now, along with the moist, rotten swamp smells. Nauseous, she swallowed hard to keep down the water she’d drunk the night before.

It hadn’t been poisoned—Gretta was epically hungover.

As the steps drew closer, she retied the black ribbon binding her ponytail and unsuccessfully tested her ability to fly. She shuffled to the sunlight coming from the window and forced her spine straight, preparing for whatever scumbag had come to visit.

A nymph in a simple blue dress stopped at the bars. She carried a large, leather-bound book propped on a hip.

Gretta tilted her head.

The woman was tall and graceful with the generically pretty features of her species. She didn’t look threatening—she was a nymph—but her placid expression told Gretta this wasn’t a fellow captive, either.

The woman pulled a pencil from behind her pointed ear and opened the book. “Your name, please?” She shoved a thick, pale braid off her shoulder.

Gretta’s eyes followed it down and down…

How was hair that long possible? The ends skimmed her goddamn ankles. The murky green light in the corridor obscured its color, but the braid shined from good health and hygiene.

How the hell did she wash all of it?

Discarding the stupid question, Gretta came closer. “Lab Coat must be desperate if he’s recruiting henchmen from Feverscent Forest.”

“I’m not from the forest. At least, not recently.” The nymph looked Gretta over and jotted something in the book. “Who’s Lab Coat?”

“That tall, dark drink of ogre piss who stole my dust.”

The pencil on the page scratched to a stop. “ Oh —we’re not thieves. Our pixies are here willingly, and they’re well-compensated for their donations.”

Gretta spread her arms and looked around the cell.

“Well, yes,” the woman said with a delicate blush. “I suppose I can understand your confusion. Let me assure you that you won’t be harmed, and you’ll also be compensated. Now, your name please?”

“Are you dumb? Obviously, I’m not here willingly.”

The woman stopped writing again. The vacant docility in her pale eyes sharpened.

Had Gretta finally found a weak spot with one of these fuckers?

“Or maybe you’re not dumb,” she said, “just crazy like those bastards who kidnapped me. Tell me, do you lot only bathe in kitten blood during the full moon, or is it more of a daily thing?”

The nymph slapped her pencil on the page. “I’m not crazy. Neither are they. This is an unprecedented situation within our otherwise legitimate business.” She resumed scrawling with a muttered, “I suspect the director had a very good reason for incarcerating you.”

“Which one’s the director? Lab Coat?”

“This conversation is wasting both our time. If you’ll let me do my job, he’ll answer your questions after. Your name?”

Dread traced along Gretta’s spine. Was Lab Coat coming back?

As much as she wanted to confront the asshole again, she couldn’t ignore the unevenness of their playing field. Gretta was an unarmed shrimp who couldn’t fly. He was a ruthless behemoth with the key to her prison cell.

The nymph tapped her pencil on the book. “Your name ?”

Gretta recalled the newspaper Philip had shown her the day before and sneered. “You can call me Hacker. What’s your name?”

“Seven. Age?”

“ Seven ?” It had to be another alias.

“Age?”

“Twenty-six.” No point in lying about that.

“Height? Weight?”

“Five-two, and none of your business.”

Seven scribbled some more. “Have you taken any medications or recreational intoxicants in the past forty-eight hours? Anything that might alter the quality of your dust?”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s a simple enough question. The director can administer a blood test if you’d prefer not to answer.”

No way was Gretta letting him come near her with another needle. She grated, “I’m not on anything.”

Seven leaned in and sniffed. “Besides alcohol, you mean. You smell like a dram shop.”

“Alright, we’re done here.”

With a nod, Seven snapped the book shut. She placed it on the ground and pulled a set of handcuffs from her skirt pocket. “Wrists, please.”

Gretta backed away, warding Seven off.

The nymph jangled the cuffs. “I’m not escorting you to the director without proper restraints. It’s for my protection.”

Gretta stopped retreating and lowered her arms.

They were letting her out?

She had no illusions they were letting her out out, but she’d take what she could get. The question was, should she try to make a break for it while a skinny nymph had her, or should she get a feel for her surroundings first? A better opportunity might not present itself, but Gretta wouldn’t know what direction to run if she knocked Seven down. How much time would she waste flinging herself around dark hallways before she found an outside door? Would it be unlocked?

Patience, Gretta. Remember?

She presented her wrists between the bars. If this trip was recon only, she didn’t need her hands. Besides, the more helpless she looked, the less guarded they’d be.

After fastening the cuffs, Seven unlocked the door and reclaimed her book. She led Gretta out, her braid swishing as they headed down the ghostly corridor. The sun didn’t reach this far, so only the weird, watery sconces lit the way. Their glow cast warped green shadows over Seven’s face, making her look like an underfed troll.

“This way,” Seven said, turning right at the corner. They entered another stone hallway, this one flooded with sunlight. The windows were too high for Gretta to see anything except treetops and a pelican gliding across the blue sky. Feminine giggling wafted in with the breeze.

Gretta stopped. “Who’s that?”

“The other pixies. Come along.”

Gretta tilted her ear up. She hadn’t heard another pixie’s voice in ages. Members of her species preferred to isolate themselves in their opulent, suffocating colonies, and Gretta had run away from hers years ago. That airy, carefree laughter made her feel strangely lonely, but it suggested the others were there willingly, after all.

Which meant J had kidnapped Gretta in particular.

But why?

She caught up to Seven, and they stopped at a massive, scarred door. Deep slashes marred the wood, like someone had tried to break through with a battle ax. The ancient hinges dripped rust as dark and ruddy as old blood. Gretta even smelled copper.

She pictured Lab Coat in there, sharpening a meat cleaver and picking his teeth with the bones of children. Seven knocked, and Lab Coat’s deep voice called out, raising the hair on Gretta’s arms.

Seven turned to her. “Well?”

“I…I don’t want to. Take me back to the cell.”

The nymph sighed impatiently, but her expression thawed a degree. “He’s not a monster.”

“I don’t want to be alone with him.” The handcuffs bit into Gretta’s wrists, reminding her how vulnerable she was.

“Miss Hacker, I don’t know what the director wants with you, but I guarantee he won’t abuse you. He’s the most sensible, even-tempered man I know.”

Gretta didn’t bother pointing out the ways he’d already abused her. Seven’s deck was missing a few cards, and she clearly had some kind of hero-worship for the man.

Seven switched the book to her other arm and pushed the door open. “Come on. I have things to do.”

Gretta fought the pathetic urge to whirl around and bolt. She was frightened, but she was not a runner. Besides, Lab Coat could get to her as easily in the cell as he could in his lair. May as well learn what she could while he was willing to talk.

She blew a strand of hair off her nose and marched through the doorway, eyes widening at the scene before her. It was terribly, horribly…

Anticlimactic. No weapons or chains lined the walls, only over-stuffed bookcases did. Instead of blood, she smelled leather and mildew, along with a hint of coffee. Lab Coat sat behind a cluttered desk with his forehead in his palm, wearing the same ratty clothes from yesterday.

He looked up. Another jolt hit Gretta, this one milder. She stayed behind the leather chair on her side of the desk and wiped emotion off her face.

Best to play this cool. She’d keep her yap shut and her ears open.

She’d be patient .

After a long pause, Lab Coat blinked twice and swept his hand toward the chair.

“Please,” he said. “Have a seat.”