Page 14 of Beyond the Cottage

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 heroutout, 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.”

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