Storm Warned (The Grim Series) (8 page)

“Could be depression.”

“Tina and I talked about that, but she doesn’t think so. It’s more like grief.” Even if nobody had died, there was still the death of the relationship to be mourned, the death of dreams. And Morgan knew from her own experience that grief was a process that varied from person to person.
No one can say how long is long enough
. “I told Tina that Liam will rejoin life when he’s good and ready—but I confess, I was crossing my fingers when I said it. He has to make that decision for himself, and while most people do, some don’t.”

“He’ll be fine,” said Ranyon. The ellyll sounded sure of it. “All a man needs is a good enough reason to live, and he’ll pull himself out of the jaws of Death herself, if need be.”

“He’s not dying,” Morgan said, then wondered if that were strictly true. Music had definitely been Liam’s life, and now it was gone. “But you’re right about one thing—he’s going to have to find something new to live for.” That she understood. Morgan’s best friend, Brooke, had recently proved to be just such a motivation for Aidan ap Llanfor. The big Welsh blacksmith had been on a quest for vengeance before he met—
more like crashed into
—the attractive young witch. Morgan couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Brooke and Aidan were currently on an extended honeymoon in Catemaco, Mexico—a charming city renowned as a center of magic and witchcraft.
Bet he never saw that coming.

“Say, Ranyon, you don’t happen to have a charm that’ll help Liam, do you?” asked Jay.

The little ellyll shook his head. “Nay, there’s not a spell in this world or any other ’twill give a man purpose. Each must find his own.”

“Seems like some purposes come and find you,” Morgan murmured.
Or hunt you down.
She certainly hadn’t been looking for all that had come to her—especially her husband Rhys. His love would always be a source of wonder to her. Her life had been full and satisfying before he literally jumped into it. Now she couldn’t imagine a day without him.
What if I lost him? What if he walked away, like Jade walked away from Liam?

It wasn’t so hard to see why Tina’s cousin had built a wall around himself.

The crunch of the gravel road beneath the truck tires was the only sound for several minutes until Jay tried to lighten the mood. “Hey, I hope that deal goes well with the horses today.”

“Me too,” she said, grateful for the change of topic. “Selling a pair of fully trained Friesians to the current world champion jouster? It would be incredible advertising for our center, and a pretty big feather in Rhys’s cap.”

“I’d like a feather in
my
cap,” piped up Ranyon. “Maybe a bunch of ’em.”

Jay looked doubtful. “Not sure they’d go well with the baseball theme you have going there, bud.”

“Well a’course they would,” the little man retorted. “Blue jays are
birds
, dontcha know? And where d’ya think
yer
name came from?”

“It’s short for Jacob. My parents didn’t name me for the bird. Or the team, for that matter.”

Ranyon snorted as if he didn’t believe a word of it, but he let it go. “If I could get close enough, I could charm the tail feathers off a live one,” he continued. “All I’d need is a few peanuts—blue jays like their peanuts like a
warth
likes his live meat.”

Knowing that the ellyll was sensitive, Morgan fought hard not to laugh at the mental picture he’d just painted. “What Jay means is that professional ball players don’t put anything on their hats. It’s a—a
distraction
to the game.”

Ranyon seemed to ponder that carefully. “Certain are ya?”

She nodded solemnly. “Have you ever seen Brett Lawrie or Chad Jenkins decorate their hats?”

“Ah, well, then, that’s a point,” conceded Ranyon. He’d been introduced to baseball by her dear old friend Leo, and it had been a life-changing experience for the ellyll. The game was practically sacred to him. “But it woulda been a
brammer
of a hat.”

Morgan was about to agree with him when an all-too-familiar
sensation, gentle yet repellent, strummed her nerves like a silken cobweb brushing her hand. “Ranyon?”

“Aye, I feel it too.”

“Feel what? I don’t feel anything,” said Jay, frowning. “Please tell me it’s not—”

“Fae,” she breathed, her hands suddenly cold on the steering wheel. The
knowing
that she’d inherited from her grandmother was dead certain. “There’s fae close by, or they’ve been here very recently.”

“They’re not here now,” assured Ranyon, standing up on the seat and looking out each window in turn. He pressed a button to lower the window behind Morgan and leaned far out, as if to scent the air like a dog. “And a good thing too. ’Twas not just any fae,” he called back, the wind whipping away his words. “There’s too much power lingering here yet.”

Jay lived up to the slogan on his own shirt by diving halfway into the rear seat and seizing the little ellyll’s T-shirt in a death grip. He needn’t have worried. Despite the wind that whipped past the window, not so much as the hat on Ranyon’s head fluttered—evidence of the ellyll’s easy command of magic.

But there were other forces at work.

“I don’t like this. We’re almost at Liam’s farm, and I can feel it getting stronger,” said Morgan. “What on earth were the fae doing in this area?”

“Whatever pleases them, to be sure,” declared Ranyon. Morgan didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t like the look of it either when they rounded a bend and got their first view of Steptoe Acres . . . And the devastation that surrounded it.

“Holy crap,” breathed Jay. “What kind of a storm did this?”

Ranyon leaned on the console between them and shook his head, making the many copper bells and charms around his neck jangle together.
“
’Twere no storm that brought this mess about. The Tylwyth Teg were here.”

SIX

S
hit, shit, shit!

He’d fallen asleep—how long had he been out? People with head injuries were supposed to stay awake. Liam didn’t know who had made up that rule or why, but he did remember it was important. Did it still count, he wondered, when he’d already been out cold all night?

All he knew for certain was that he was exhausted. His eyelids felt like they had lead fishing weights hanging from them, but when he finally talked his eyes into opening, a brilliant blue-and-gold light seared itself into his already-tender brain. He threw his hands up in front of his face and cursed at the rapid movement as well as the glare, certain that the agony in his head would drive him back into unconsciousness—or perhaps angry that it didn’t.

The light vanished abruptly, leaving him half-blinded. Gradually he pulled his hands from his eyes, blinking away the spots in his vision.

And then he blinked in disbelief. There was a woman kneeling beside him. A naked woman. A
curvy
naked woman with dark chocolate eyes and smooth olive skin. Her long black hair fell like a soft curtain over full breasts but failed to hide their luscious nipples.
I’m hallucinating here. Gotta be.
But as delusions went, it was a damn good one. Liam’s gaze traveled inch by delicious inch all the way down to her soft thatch and slowly back up to her compelling eyes.

Strangely, she didn’t disappear. Maybe he’d blacked out again? He could be dreaming, perhaps even in a coma. Or hell, he could be dead for all he knew—and wouldn’t that suck, to be taken down by a damn flower vase? Liam was not a religious man, but he might reconsider if all angels were naked and built like the goddess in front of him.

“Am I delirious?” he wondered aloud.

“I don’t think so, but ’tis a bad bump you’ve taken. You were gone away for a time.” The woman’s voice was sexy as hell, its low tones caressing his ears. Even if she were fully clothed, she could make his body sit up and pay attention just by reading a phone book. Her words lilted with an unknown accent, and he found himself wanting this shapely vision to say more, to say anything.

That is, until she stretched her hand toward his head.

Liam’s instincts had him pulling back until the fence post was pressing into his spine. Until he knew for certain if the stranger was real or imaginary, she could damn well keep her distance. “Where did you come from? Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

Her hand dropped. “Caris. I’m Caris Ellen Dillwyn.” She paused, frowning, as if remembering something. Bright color flushed her cheeks, and she threw an arm over her beautiful breasts. “
Mae’n ddrwg gen i
—I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry. I guess I’m not used to this.” She glanced around and seized a crumpled shirt from the ground, pulling it on like a robe and clutching it closed. The wrinkled material was dirty and bloody, yet it didn’t detract from her looks in the slightest.

“Not used to what?” he asked crossly.

“Why, being mortal of course. Being human again.” Caris sighed. “It’s been a dreadful long time, you see, and a very confusing day.”

Right. That’s what I get for asking.
“I’m with you on the
confusing day
part,” he muttered.

“I thank you for the shirt. ’Twas no small thing to care for a lesser creature in need.”

Several facts connected in his unreliable brain at once: It was his own damn shirt she was wearing. And the last place he’d seen it was on the great black dog. He looked around but the animal was now nowhere in sight. “Where’s the dog? She’s injured.” He tried to sit up, but a riptide of dizziness nearly pulled him under the sea of unconsciousness again. “Did you chase her away?” he gasped out as his head swam.

“Now, don’t be trying to get up,” she said, seizing his wrists with surprisingly strong hands and leaning over him. The fact that her shirt gaped wide again was far more effective at holding him in place, however. “You’ll be doing more harm to yourself. And you need not worry about the black dog you showed such kindness to.”

“Why the hell not?” Wait, since when had he told her what color it was?

Caris released him and sat back, once again holding the shirt closed. “Because ’twas not a dog you found, sir, but a grim.”

Maybe he wasn’t conscious after all. “A
what
?”

“A grim is a messenger of death. A
barghest
.” The woman studied his face, obviously frustrated that she wasn’t getting through. “A
gwyllgi
?” She threw up her hands. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what names you give to fae creatures here. I’m trying to tell you that what you found was not a mortal dog.
It was me
!”

Uh-huh. Liam considered the possibilities: Either he was out cold or down a damn rabbit hole.
Or the beautiful Caris is off her meds.
“Do you really expect me to believe a bullshit story like that?” he asked. “I saw the dog with my own eyes. For something that’s not supposed to be
mortal
, it was pretty badly hurt. And I need to find it so I can help it.”

“You’re too busy thinking I’m daft to listen to me,” she declared. “I’m telling you that I was the dog you tended. The faeries changed me when I refused to go with them, and I’ve been a grim ever since.”

“Faeries?”
Jesus, this just gets better and better.

“I wasn’t sent here to warn you though—you’re not about to die.”

Liam goggled at that little revelation, then recovered himself. Hadn’t he watched plenty of werewolf movies as a kid? He knew exactly what to ask: “If the dog was really you, then where are your injuries?”

She looked down at her left leg and slowly rubbed it. Her hand gliding back and forth over that smooth thigh sparked all kinds of ideas in Liam’s mind—and other parts—that he didn’t have patience for at the moment.

“
Fel y boi
,” she declared. “Right as rain. Perhaps it was the changing that healed me.”

Christ.
“Guess if I change into a unicorn, I’ll feel fine too.”

“I know you’re mocking me. But you’re not yourself, not with a lump like that. Let me get you something to drink. I’ll bet you’re fair thirsty.”

Liam could certainly get behind the
thirsty
part. And hey, maybe that was the way to deal with this bizarre situation: just pick and choose whatever made sense. In fact, he’d once read a psychology article about directing and controlling one’s dreams—what if
this
was a dream and he could change it? Maybe he could even give it instructions . . .

“Fine, I’ll have an ice-cold beer. And a kiss.” His hand snaked behind her head and yanked her face to his. Her full lips tasted even better than he imagined, and her breasts brushed his bare chest.

A split second later her fists thumped on his solar plexus hard enough to knock the breath from him, and he lost his grip. As he gasped for air like a fish out of water, Caris stood a few feet away, her arms folded tight around her and her expression telling him plainly that he’d crossed a major line.

But hallucinations weren’t supposed to have lines to cross . . .

“What the hell? You’re
real
? You can’t be real!” he half shouted, depleting his air again and aggravating the ringing in his head.

“You’ll find out how real I am when I’m boxing your ears.”

As gorgeous as this woman was, Liam sure as hell didn’t want her to be flesh and blood. Dreams were fun. Fantasy was a release. But
real
was a whole different animal.
Real
meant he had to deal with her—not to mention deal with his body, which was craving her the way a starving lion yearned after a gazelle. His jeans were still excruciatingly tight despite the fact that the shirt she’d commandeered was now painstakingly buttoned all the way to the neck. Since it also hung halfway down her thighs, all the glory he’d witnessed earlier was hidden—though the thin material couldn’t do a thing to disguise her shape.

“Nothing makes a damn bit of sense today,” he muttered.

“Not to you, I’m sure. I’m thinking that lump on your head has not only addled your wits but made you forget your manners,” she said. “And it’s clear that my lack of proper garments has given you notions. So in case you’re not really a
dihiryn
, I’ll explain it to you. I’m not a barmaid, so you’ll be keeping your hands to your own self. Are we clear on that?”

“Crystal.” Liam had no idea what a dihiryn was, but the tone clearly said
asshole
. “So no cold beer either, huh?”

“As I’m not seeing any pub nearby, you won’t be getting any ale.” She picked up the cracked bucket he’d offered to the dog. “You’ll be having to make do with some water from the trough,” she said. “What you brought me was clean enough and tasted fresh.”

“But, but . . . I brought water to the
dog
, not you,” he insisted.

“Have it your way.” She shrugged and disappeared from his line of sight, and Liam wished that Morgan would hurry the hell up. It was weird enough when he thought that his subconscious had conjured the naked goddess. The fact that she was a living, breathing human being was far more bizarre. Especially since Carol—
no, Cara? Caris!
—was insistent that she’d been a
d-o-g
. How cruel was it that a woman so pretty should also be certifiable?

He jolted, rattling his bruised brain and making him curse, as the woman reappeared at his elbow.

“Sorry that I startled you.” She offered him a strange little pottery bowl with uneven edges and waited patiently until he had both hands wrapped around it before she let go. “I thought this might be easier to drink from than the bucket, but take care you don’t cut yourself on it,” she warned.

The dish was plain white bisque on the inside, clean and porous. The outside felt smooth as glass, however, with strange bumps and protrusions, and he glimpsed several bright colors through his fingers . . . Still, the water called out to him, drawing his attention away from the container. It was cold and sweet, and he drank every bit of it. “Thanks,” he breathed.

“Grateful I am that I could return the favor of a drink to you.”

Ri-i-i-ght. Because you used to be a dog. And I’m Alice in Wonderland.
His thirst sated for the moment, Liam lifted the odd bowl and risked a glance beneath. The wizened face of one of Aunt Ruby’s countless garden gnomes grinned back at him.

More than a little creeped out by the makeshift bowl, Liam’s beleaguered brain desperately kicked out a new thought. A good thought. A
damn
good thought. He pointed at the woman. “Tell me, did you get caught in the storm?”

“I was in the very midst of it, for sure.”

Bingo.
Just like that, he had a whole lot of answers.
Nice, comfortable, sane answers.
One, the woman must live in the area—hell, she could be a relative or friend of his closest neighbor, for all he knew. Two, she’d been affected by the storm just as he had been. Liam’s barn roof stood in the alfalfa field as testament to the violence of the weather. If a twister had touched down here, the damage to the surrounding farms might be even worse. It was no big stretch of the imagination that someone could be wandering around in the aftermath, confused and in shock, just like disaster victims on the news.

Liam went from angry and confused to protective and concerned in the space of a heartbeat. The storm had struck in the middle of the night and probably yanked her right out of her bed. No wonder the poor woman was naked.

And here I’ve been acting like a complete moron.

Resurrecting his manners, Liam began by keeping his gaze strictly on Caris’s face (although he’d be seeing that curvy body every time he closed his eyes for a long,
long
time to come). “I . . . I owe you an apology, a big one. I’m really sorry for being a jerk. I don’t usually grab pretty women, at least not without asking. I think you’re right about my head playing tricks on me.” He pointed at the lump, and she nodded.

“Aye, probably why you’re cranky as a wet cat too. In our town, Kynan Jones took a bad blow to the head when he was shoeing a horse. He had trouble with his temper ever after, and with his remembering as well. Couldn’t think of his own name half the time and had to be reminded where his house was, though he was just as good a farrier as ever.”

“That’s not very comforting.”

“Well, do you remember
your
name?”

For a split second he hesitated. He’d never been rock-star famous, but since he’d turned his back on the music world, he seldom introduced himself to anyone. He didn’t want to remember that time in his life, what he used to do, and maybe not even the person he used to be. Introducing himself meant risking that someone else might remember—and then he’d have to talk about it. The more sensible side of him knew that was
totally messed up
, but his other side, the emotional side, didn’t give a shit.

Which was why he couldn’t account for the words that came out of his mouth before he’d even finished his thought.