Into Thin Air (7 page)

Gawan nearly had to leave the room, he was so overcome with mirth.

The questions kept flying forth, and Gawan scanned the occupants of the room. Christian of Arrick-by-the-Sea leaned against the wall near the pantry, arms crossed over his chest, a bemused look upon his face, thankfully keeping his mouth firmly shut. He glanced at Gawan and grinned.

Gawan shrugged, then cleared his throat. Loudly. " 'Twill be enough, everyone." He frowned at Sir Godfrey, who at least had the decency to pretend to flick a bit of something from his surcoat. "Get you gone from this larder and allow Ellie some peace." He met her grateful gaze. "She's had a taxing day."

"Pah! This maid has more nerve than most of the lads in my garrison," said Godfrey. "Besides, her tales of the modern world are far more interesting than yours, Gawan." Godfrey winked at Gawan.

"Can we see you at supper, lady?" Davy asked. "I've loads more to ask you."

"Oh, yes! I insist you take your repast whilst seated between myself and Lady Bella!" Lady Follywolle exclaimed so fiercely, the swan on her head all but flapped its wings.

Ellie gave a sheepish grin. "Um, sure. I'll be there."

Lady Follywolle clapped her hands. "Splendid! Come, Davy, and lend me your arm whilst we leave the maid Ellie to her doings."

Davy's face screwed up. "All right," he said with a groan and, like a good lad, held out his arm.

Sir Godfrey boomed out a laugh.

One by one, the spirits disappeared. All but Christian, that is.

Ellie's gaze met Gawan's. "Wow."

He laughed. "Aye, wow, indeed." He gestured toward his friend. "This little lad is Christian of Arrick-by-the-Sea. Rather old, but he can still swing a fairly lethal blade."

Christian pushed from the wall to stand before Ellie. He gave a low bow. "Only lethal to those who prompt me, I assure you, and not nearly as lethal as your host." He inclined his head to Gawan. "He tells me you were found in the lane down the way."

"I daresay she doesn't recall much," Nicklesby answered, moving about the kitchen gathering teacups. "Much as we'd like her to."

Ellie propped her chin on her fist. "He's right. I don't remember much of anything before Gawan found me."

Christian looked at Gawan. "Have you searched the beach further?"

Gawan heaved a sigh. "Aye, but I found nothing of import. I planned to have another look on my way into the village this afternoon. Ellie thinks she may have knocked her head against a rock."

Christian nodded. "I have a mind to look myself, as well. I'll let you know later if I find aught amiss, Grimm." He gave Ellie a smile. "Lady, should you need reprieve from this bothersome wretch, you've only to call." With a slight nod, he disappeared through the wall.

Gawan stifled a snort. Bothersome wretch, indeed.

Nicklesby placed a steaming cup of tea before Ellie, then excused himself. She picked up the spoon and stirred in a bit of honey, but did not sip. She met Gawan's eyes with a look of despair. "This is all so weird. I'm having trouble digesting it all. I feel like I'm watching a movie or something."

Gawan nodded. "In truth, I would as well, were I you." He regarded her closely. "I'll do my best, though, to find the truth, Ellie. I vow it."

For a moment, nothing else existed. She stared at him and the sheer look of uncertainty all but tied knots in Gawan's belly. The way her eyes searched his shook him to the bone. He wanted to touch her, but he wouldn't. That was not what she needed now. She needed to trust him. And the very last thing he needed was to become attached to an In-Betwinxt soul he'd never see again once her life was saved. He even wrestled with the urge to sneak a listen of her thoughts.

Ellie drew a deep breath, and her next words fell out on a sigh. "I believe you."

Those three words struck something deep within Gawan, something that made him know, without a doubt, and no matter the outcome, that he and Ellie were about to delve into an irreversible predicament. One he wasn't convinced would leave either unscathed. It more than unsettled him.

It scared the bloody hell out of him.

Chapter Five

The more Ellie tried to wrap her brain around the situation, the more her head hurt. She just couldn't comprehend what was happening. According to Gawan, she existed
In-Betwinxt. Mostly dead.
Here one minute, gone the next.

How the
bleep
could someone be mostly dead?

In and out of a deep, deep coma, he'd claimed. When she was lost to unconsciousness, she for some reason appeared at Castle Grimm, particularly in the company of Gawan. When she came to, she disappeared and went somewhere else. Funny. Instead of waking and knowing exactly where she was, or that she was alive, Ellie remembered nothing but pitch-blackness, and the earthy scent that clung to her nostrils.

She groaned and clapped a hand over her eyes. "This is insane."

"Could be far worse," Gawan said.

Ellie peeked through her fingers. "Worse? How could it be worse than memoryless and mostly dead?"

"Well," he said, rising from the table, "you could be completely dead."

"Ugh," she groaned. "Don't remind me." She rose and crossed the floor to the sink, where she poured the contents of her teacup down the drain. Had she even swallowed any? "So I can just fade in and out without a warning?"

"Aye, I fear so."

Rinsing her cup and saucer, she set them in the dish drainer. "And I'm drinking tea, but not
really
drinking tea? Is that it?" She flipped the faucet on and off. "And I'm turning the water on and off, but not
really?"
She rubbed her temples. "And you can witness this because you're a Guardian of sorts? You interact with ghosts and almost-ghosts?"

Gawan followed her to the sink. "I don't claim to understand the whole of it, Ellie, but aye. All what you say is apparently so."

Turning, she grabbed Gawan's arm. "Is this not real, either? My skin touching yours?" She squeezed his biceps, which, she thought after a few more discreet squeezes, was rock-solid, and gave him a bold stare. "Feels pretty darn real to me." She swallowed as Gawan wrapped his long fingers around her wrist.

"Aye, 'tis real enough, Ellie." His eyes smoldered as they stared into hers. "I can feel the heat in your touch"—he gently dragged his knuckles against the top of her hand—"and the pulse of your blood running through your veins, here," he said, pressing a fingertip at her inner wrist. "I wish I could explain it, but I cannot. Yet the more time that passes, the more odd things will become."

"Odder than this?" she asked.

He gave a slight smile.

Strength and confidence radiated from him in waves, like heat rippling off tarmac in the dead of summer. Ellie had the feeling that Gawan could command an entire army with one simple, quiet word. Or a single scowl.

Even right now, the way he stared at her with those dark brown eyes, she felt touched—no,
caressed
—and all without him having moved a single inch. Not only that, but his eyes seemed ancient, all-knowing. As though he'd seen a
lot.

His head dipped closer, eyes fixed on hers, and Ellie's heart slammed in her chest.

"If ye plan on making it up the way to the village, then ye'd best get going straightaway. There's another storm blowing this way, methinks," Sir Godfrey said out of nowhere, with quite a lot of enthusiasm.

Ellie blinked, and the spell was broken. Gawan's brows tugged into a frown; then he lowered his hand from Ellie's arm and turned toward the old knight now occupying the kitchen entrance.

"Quite the sport you are of late, Godfrey, keeping track of the weather and such," Gawan said, muttering. "A bloody weatherman. We were just leaving, by the by."

"Aye, well, good thing," Godfrey answered.

Ellie, still trying to catch her breath from the almost
something,
inhaled and smiled. "Thanks, Sir Godfrey."

The room took a sudden dip, the air grew light and wispy, and then everything turned dark. Gawan repeated her name over and over, but his voice seemed far off, muffled, as though he were in another part of the castle. Then she couldn't hear him at all.

Another vision, this one of a young girl, thirteen or fourteen, standing at the foot of a hospital bed.

In the bed lay the old man, now with a shock of white hair, his face weary. Placing a large, veined hand atop her head, he comforted her with a few pats. She looked into his eyes. They were clear and blue-green, just like her own. His lips moved, speaking to Ellie, but no sound came forth. For some reason, her heart ached.

"Ellie?" Gawan's voice broke through the haze, far away at first but growing closer. "Ellie, look at me."

Ellie blinked and the vision disappeared completely. Once more, she stood before Gawan. His brow was furrowed, his eyes intense. His handsome face was very close to hers.

"Are you well?" he asked. "Another vision?"

Nodding, Ellie rubbed her forehead. "It was me, with the same old grandpa man, this time he was in a hospital bed. He was trying to tell me something, but I couldn't hear what he was saying. His lips were moving but no sound came out. And I felt very sad."

Gawan steadied her with both hands on her shoulders, and her skin grew warm beneath his touch.

"We'll figure out this riddle, Ellie. It will all come together. I vow it." He turned her toward the door.

"Let's start with a visit to the beach, then a few questions at the village."

Driving down the lane, Gawan watched Ellie from the corner of his eye. Just as before, she sat rigid, hand clutching the door handle as though ready to open it and fling herself out.

The need to tell Ellie about who he really was nearly choked him. Never before had he wanted to tell another—especially a modern mortal—of his past and oddly bizarre present. He did, though, with Ellie. A strong desire to purge every last sordid detail, good and bad. The bad, he feared, outweighed the good by far. And what bothered him so much was,
why her?
Why did he feel the need to tell this bewildered, quirky American who was almost a ghost?

A slight movement from Ellie drew Gawan from his thoughts. A swipe of the back of her knuckles across her eyes. Christ, she was weeping. But before he could say a word, she spoke.

"It's close to Christmas, isn't it?" she said, sniffing.

Gawan needed not to ponder that, as his retirement officially ended at midnight on Christmas Eve.

"Aye,
Y Nadolig,
so it is. 'Tis less than a pair of fortnights away."

A heavy sigh escaped her lips.
"Y Nadolig.
That sounds nice. I love Christmas. I think." Then she continued to stare out the window. "Less than a pair of fortnights?"

Gawan smiled. "Less than a month."

"Oh."

Christmas. Or the Yuletide, as he'd once called it.

Strange to think of it now. Joy. Merriment. Mulled wine. The season of giving, of love. Family.

His thoughts traveled back to a less merry time, when he'd been battle-weary and bleeding, the dead of winter surrounding him as he stitched his own wounds in the bowels of a freezing cave on the Yuletide eve. No wonder his bloody bones creaked so. How vastly different things were now.

The guardrail loomed ahead, and Gawan pulled the Rover off to the side of the lane. He turned off the ignition and faced Ellie.

"This is where I found you. Are you sure you're up to exploring?" he asked.

She nodded. "Absolutely. Let's go."

Together they got out, squatted near the guardrail, and inspected the ground beside it. The rain had already flattened the area where Ellie had been sitting.

She ran her fingers over the brown grass, picked up a small stone, studied it, then tossed it back down. Standing, she peered over the rail. "Let's try down there."

Before Gawan could give her a steadying hand, Ellie straddled the rail and was on the other side. He followed her down the slight slope of dead winter grass, stopping here and there to study a bit of something along the way.

'Twas impossible, of course, not to stare at the girl. He simply couldn't help himself. She fascinated him. Not just her beauty, which he thought was passing fair; 'twas her confidence, her sure-footedness as she climbed down the slope, the gentle sweep of her hand over the grasses as she searched for some sort of recognition. The way her brows pulled tight as she immersed herself in heavy contemplation. And by the saints, the quirky thoughts she had of his comeliness all but made him chuckle out loud. Indeed, she was truly something.

A brisk wind caught her hair and tossed it across her face, a thick strand catching on her lip. She ignored it, of course, so caught up she was in her task.

Then she stood, facing the sea, her nose red from the cold. Her hair blew in disarray about her face, her lips trembled, and puffs of white frosty air blew out before her with each warm breath. She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest.

Do I have a husband? Kids?
her thoughts screamed.

The air in Gawan's lungs lodged at the sight of her. Beautiful, aye, and she could very well belong to another. With a frown, he shoved his hands deep into his pockets and began to study the rocky sand. Not that he needed to concern himself over that matter. He need only make sure she
lived.

With an internal shake to rid his pitiful self of distracting thoughts, he studied the ground. Because of the torrential rain, any prints that would have been made were long swept away now. Nothing but bits of broken shell, pebbles, and rocks. Still, Gawan looked hard at the path straight down from the guardrail. He couldn't be certain why. Mayhap because she'd tumbled over that railing?

Ellie joined him, but continued to gaze seaward, and voiced her previous thoughts. "I'd know if I had a husband or children, wouldn't I?" She turned fully, to face him. "I'd
feel
it, right? I mean, how could a mother forget something like that?" Her hand strayed to her very flat stomach.

Gawan knew, then, that no matter how fiercely attracted he was to this wayward almost-ghost, he'd have to steady his course and not become attached. 'Twasn't fair to Ellie, by no measure, and he didn't want to add to her confused state, such as it was.