Page 52 of Beyond the Cottage

“I understand why you find that hard to believe, but Isobel is nothing like the Eater.”

“I thought you were intelligent.”

He shrugged. “You’ll see soon enough. We’re here.”

Ansel dug his oar into the muck, and the boat sloshed onto mushy dirt. Gretta didn’t see a house or a structure of any kind, just a crude path made of rotting, slimy wood.

He got out and tied off the boat before offering her his hand. She let him haul her onto land, groaning as her boots squelched in mud. The swamp was no place for quality leather.

Once she hopped onto the spongy boards, Ansel blocked her way. “Gretta… Please try to give her a chance?”

“I’ll treat her with all the respect she deserves.” So not much.

Still, there wasn’t any reason to turn this visit into a scene. Gretta had been surreptitiously drawing a map of their route in her notepad, plotting the approximate distances between landmarks. Eventually, she’d come back on her own.

“Stay close,” he said, leading her up the path. “There are worse things than reptiles this deep in the swamp.”

They climbed the slight incline side by side. As they got to higher ground, singing drifted toward them, feminine and hauntingly beautiful.

Gretta stopped and clutched Ansel’s arm.

He looked at her with concern. “Her voice holds no power.”

Gretta didn’t feel magic’s sickening pull, but her feet wouldn’t move. She’d been to so many witch hovels, had seen more atrocities than she wanted to remember, but hearing one sing after fourteen years turned the air in her lungs to concrete.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She turned her back on him, hiding her eyes. Their stinging made her want to claw them out. There was always a pang of fear when she reached the confrontation stage of a hunt, but this was something else. She felt out of depth.Vulnerable.Not only from the bracelet, but from reliving it all. Another cottage, another witch she couldn’t fight. Ansel himself. One stupid song, and she was reduced to a frightened, sniveling child again.

“Gretta, you can do this.”

“What if I can’t?” She detested the crack in her voice.

“You can. But if you don’t want to, we’ll go.”

Inhaling shakily, she dug the heel of her hand into her chest.

Did she want to go? This was the closest she’d come to achieving her goal, and it wasn’t just about her, it was aboutNat. Would she throw away his best chance of recovery over her deep-seated, childhood bullshit? Was she that big ababy?

Apparently so, because her legs still refused to move.

Ansel came around to face her. “You know I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“How can you expect me to believe that?”

“Gretta, listen to me. I’m not asking you to trust my sense of morality or my character as a man, but be honest with yourself and recognize that I will never put you in danger again. I would give mylifeto protect you.”

She’d rather not examine what his words did to her stomach. She couldn’t handle his intensity, especially after that morning, so she stared at a squirrel jumping between branches.

Ansel sighed. “Ultimately, that doesn’t matter because I know you.”

“I suppose you think I’ll slink back to the boat just to thwart you.”

“Quite the opposite. I think no matter what I say, you’re going to walk up this path because you’re brave and stubborn as fuck.”

Well, damned if she did and damned if she didn’t. If she pressed on, she’d prove him right. If she turned back, she’d disappoint herself.

Either way, shewasn’ta child anymore. May as well make the choice that preserved her self-respect.

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