Page 120 of Beyond the Cottage

A carved ridge resembling a brow arched above Nat’s eye. Though composed of wood, his features moved pliantly, like clay under a sculptor’s hands. He moved awkwardly, and his voice scraped, but it was the magic coming off him she’d never gotten used to.

Nat rasped a sigh. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“How about here.” Gretta pulled a file from her messenger bag and tossed it on the desk. “I met the swamp witch.”

Nat uncurled the stumpy fingers at the end of one armrest and opened her report. “I heard the gist of what happened. I want details.”

She nodded at the file. “They’re all in there.”

“I’d like to hear them from you.”

Gretta no longer owed him shoptalk, but she didn’t want to piss him off before bringing up the repellent, so she crossed her legs and settled in. “The swamp witch is named Isobel. She’s illusion, but she isn’t interested in helping you. She took off in the night while I was…distracted.”

“You spent the night in a witch’s cottage?” If Nat had a head, Gretta suspected he’d be shaking it.

“It’s a long, irrelevant story.” She remembered the gold coin she’d pilfered and flipped it onto the desk. “Isobel uses a currency I don’t recognize. Whatever flunky you hire to replace me should be able to track her that way. Also, her powers are mostly bound, but I smelled bullshit when she said it couldn’t be reversed.”

He glanced at the coin and continued skimming the file. When he noticed Isobel’s letter, he paused to read. “What’s this?”

“Her parting jab.”

Nat’s eyes scanned the paper, his mouth thinning. “Two out of three ain’tbad? As though being turned into furniture pricked my vanity?”

“To be fair, I didn’t give her your life story, but I don’t think it would’ve mattered. She’s cagey as hell.”

As Nat continued reading, his mouth all but disappeared. He seemed more annoyed by Isobel’s cheek than pleased about what she might do for him. “You say her powers are compromised, yet she’s rather confident in her talent for evasion.”

Gretta shrugged. “Maybe she can still go invisible.”

“It could also mean she’s been successfully hiding from the police. Or someone else.” He skimmed another paper. “What brand of crime is she partial to?”

“I’m not sure. It must be bad if she’d rather abandon her home than talk to you.” Gretta could try pestering Ansel for answers again, but she knew he wouldn’t rat out his friend. It was no longer her problem, anyway.

“How confident are you she’s illusion?”

“One-hundred percent.”

Nat reread Isobel’s letter. He tersely folded it and tucked it in a drawer. “Her hubris is truly astounding. It’s also a weakness. I’m going to find her, whatever the cost. And shewilltalk to me.”

“Have fun with that.”

Nat returned his attention to the file, sifting papers. “I see your report includes no details of what happened to you. Philip tells me you were taken by pixie dust traffickers?”

“Irrelevant.”

“You don’t think I’d find your abduction relevant?”

“Again, I survived. And I don’t work for you anymore.”

His voice sharpened. “You’re taking a leave of absence until I find something else for you.”

“Don’t bother, I’ve got other prospects lined up.” She didn’t have the first clue where to start looking.

“We’ll revisit this later. What happened to the criminal who held you captive? This once, I might turn a blind eye to your penchant for capital punishment.”

He’s tucked under a quilt, snoozing on my couch.

“So, about that… I didn’t exactly kill him.”

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