Page 89 of Beyond the Cottage

“Uh…” she said. “Yeah?”

“Hotdamn!” The robber tore off his helmet, and aquamarine hair spilled around his face. His bright irises swirled like ocean waves. His pale, blue-tinted skin made him look like a shipwreck survivor who’d crawled from a frigid sea.

Gretta blinked in surprise.

Nereids.

She mostly knew of them from hearsay, since they were bound to their water sources and rarely ventured into cities, but they’d always sounded like peaceful types who kept to themselves.

Why the hell was this lot robbing inland trains?

The man clasped Gretta’s palm between his cold, clammy ones, vigorously shaking it. “What a gas! Seriously, we’re all big, big fans. What you did to that persuasion witch in Cloverwild was truly inspired.” He ducked his head bashfully. “I’m Tadpole, by the way.”

Cheeks warm, Gretta glanced at Ansel. His brow had practically disappeared into his hairline.

“Thanks?” she said.

Tadpole released her and rushed to the door. “Hey, Heron! Get in here!”

The female robber approached. Ansel stopped her with a light shove to the breastplate. His aggression no longer seemed necessary, but Gretta’s belly got the same little flutter it had when he’d defended her earlier.

She wasn’t used to anyone protecting her. Whether she needed it or not, it felt…nice.

“I mean her no harm,” the woman said, returning her sword to the scabbard.

“Keep your fucking distance, anyway.”

Another robber lumbered into the parlor. He was tall and sturdy like the other two, and he wore the same armor. A small chalkboard hung from his neck. A clanking sack lay draped over his shoulder.

A grinning Tadpole dragged the man to Gretta, nudging Ansel and his leader aside. “Your birthday came early, buddy. I’d like you to meet…the Hag Hacker!”

The man’s sack thunked to the floor. He removed his helmet, revealing a good-looking face and stunned, cerulean eyes.

“It’s true,” Gretta said. “Can we have our shit back now?”

Tadpole scampered to retrieve Gretta’s silver cloak and sack. He pressed them into her arms, along with her pocket watch and Philip’s valuables.

She dumped them on a chair. “The case.”

The woman hesitated and held it out. Ansel claimed it.

“We’re real sorry about all this,” Tadpole said. “These cars are usually full of old richies who wouldn’t give a squirt of piss for anyone but themselves. You’re one of us, though.” He patted the gauzy fabric peeking from his armor and turned to the woman. “Hey, Lil, you got a pen? Miss Hag Hacker, would you sign my armor?”

The other man scribbled on his chalkboard,Make mine out to Heron?

Shrugging, Gretta used Philip’s purloined pen to scrawl her moniker on their breastplates. If a couple autographs hurried things along, it was no trouble to her.

Philip jerked his hood on and gathered his things. “Now that we’ve sated Miss Hag Hacker’s vanity, we’ll thank you to let us be on our way. Some of us have schedules to keep.”

The robbers’ gleeful smiles faded, and they side-eyed each other.

The woman, Lil, let out a sigh. “You fellas are free to go. I’m afraid we’ll be detaining the Hacker.”

“The fuck you will,” Ansel said.

“By goddess, fate is what this is,” Tadpole told Gretta. “We’ve got a witch that needs killing! A real nasty old cunt. If you come slay her, we’d be mighty grateful.”

Gretta put away her knife. “I’d love to, but I have a previous commitment. I’d be happy to take your contact information, though.”

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