Page 78 of Beyond the Cottage

Gretta cracked a laugh. “Courtesy, right. You’ve wanted me out for years. At least admit it.”

Philip slid his empty plate aside and leaned on his forearms. “You’ve been out of control for a long fucking time, Gretta. Don’t pretend you didn’t see this coming.”

“I’m the only one who’s actually been fighting witches! You and Nat are the ones who changed, not me.”

Two ladies in gaudy hats looked over, whispering to each other. Gretta glared at them. The server returned with her second whiskey, and she dumped a quarter of it down her throat.

When the hell would she start feeling it?

Philip’s hood remained fixed on her. “Did you really believe nothing would change when he became senator? Did you think the street tactics and violence were sustainable?”

“Maybe not, but I didn’t expect him to become such a coward or for you to become his simpering toady. Between the three of us, I’m the only one with any balls.”

“You’vebecome reckless and undisciplined.”

“I did exactly what he asked. I found an illusion witch.”

“Where is she, then?”

Gretta flinched. “I know her face and name. I’ve seen the currency she uses. Nat can’t give up on me when I’m so close.”

“This isn’t about your capabilities. He’s seen the downward spiral hunting has put you on, and he’s worried. After seeing you cozied up with the dust thief,I’mworried. ”

Philip was wrong about her relationship with Ansel, and Nat only cared about getting elected chancellor. Apparently, a little thing like loyalty to his friends wouldn’t interfere with the illustrious Senator Grey’s ambition.

As much as the idea infuriated her, it also hurt. Which only pissed her off more. “So what happens now? Should I collect my walking papers and final paycheck, or will he mail them to me?”

“He’s expecting you the day after tomorrow at noon. He’ll find something else for you.”

“Pass. I’d rather muck horse shit than let him stick me in the typing pool.”

And Nat couldn’t stop her from hunting. She’d get some other job to pay the bills and hunt on the side. Maybe this betrayalwas even a blessing in disguise. If she went out on her own, she might rediscover passion for her work. The flare of relief she’d felt when Isobel disappeared shook her.

Gretta lifted her fresh glass, and Philip put a hand on her arm. “Can we have one conversation where you aren’t getting sauced? This is part of the problem.”

“It’s not your business anymore. Or Nat’s.”

Philip quietly growled. “Fine. I’ve said what I came to. It’ll take time for you to digest this, but if you’re smart, you’ll see it as an opportunity.”

Opportunity her ass. Nat knew hunting was more than a job for her. Other than Ansel, he was the only one who understood how she felt about witches. Taking that from her was like stripping away the most fundamental piece of her identity.

“Don’t do me any favors.” She drained her glass.

“Don’t be a pigheaded asshole.”

“Fuck you, Philip. And fuck Nat.” She stood, bracing herself on the table. “I’ll be at the bar.”

He made a sound of disgust and snatched up his newspaper.

As Gretta navigated the tables on her way to the door, an elderly matron sniffed and dragged her skirt out of the way. Gretta swallowed theundisciplinedcomment that came to her lips.

The next train car held the bar. It was dim and mostly empty. Three human men quietly played cards at a table, and another sat by himself with a top hat beside him. He nodded politely when she dumped herself on a leather-covered stool, then he resumed ignoring her.

“Whiskey,” she told the bartender. “Actually…brandy.” Too much whiskey made her an angry drunk. She wanted to relax, not get arrested.

The blank-faced bartender gave her a generous pour, and she thanked him. She forced herself to savor the first sip, swirling itaround her tongue. Once that was out of the way, she took three deep gulps.

The brandy’s warmth spread through her perfectly. It was exactly what she needed to forget she’d become an unemployed chump in the space of twenty minutes. Even Brand would understand.

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