Into Thin Air (4 page)

Lady Bella's eyes lit up and she clasped her hands together. "Well, I daresay you should hasten your studies on the subject, Lord Grimm. You most assuredly have your work cut out for you." She smiled and vanished, her ghostly image blurring as she faded. "I'll think on the matter and get back to you, posthaste. Oh, and do promise to show me your wings before you shed them. I've been dying to see them." With a wink and a giggle, she was gone.

Gawan heaved a gusty sigh. "Why
mostly
dead? Why not
all
the way? 'Twould have been much easier to stomach." He rubbed his eyes. 'Twas a lie and he knew it. The thought of Ellie completely dead didn't sit well with him at all. "Where does she go?"

"Lady Bella?" Nicklesby asked.

"Nay. Ellie."

Nicklesby wiped the kitchen counter with a red cloth. " 'Tis a place only she can tell of, I'm afraid.

And even she may not know. It depends on the condition her mortal self is in." He stopped and gave Gawan a grave look. "You were chosen for this line of duty, Gawan of Conwyk, because you've proven to have impeccable ways with the living as well as the unliving. Whilst you were alive, you proved to be a most fierce warrior, and since that time passed, you've done a fine job as Guardian."

He patted Gawan's shoulder and cleared his throat. " 'Tis why you've been bestowed such a challenge. I've no doubt you'll manage Ellie's affairs with genteel propriety, as well."

Gawan gave a curt nod. "I thank you for such a loyal endorsement, my friend. But those charges in the past whom I could not save were completely dead, not just
somewhat
dead, floating about from one existence to the other.
Not remembering."
He frowned. "Nor can I recall any of them being quite so fetching."

Nicklesby chuckled. "So you'll have to, say, modify, your design. Aye?"

"Indeed." Gawan turned and started for the kitchen door. "I suppose being an ex-Guardian Knight yourself has lent you the power to interact with Ellie, as well. Aye?"

Nicklesby cocked an eyebrow. "For a certainty, master. But most who've touched the spirit world can interact with an In-Betwinxt soul."

"Then I shall need your aid on the matter. I've but twenty-four days until my retirement. I don't plan on having anything go amiss. Now, I'm off. No doubt this
modified design
will plague my bloody dreams until morn."

"I truly hope so," Nicklesby said with a grin.

At the door, Gawan turned and nodded once more.
"Nos da,
my friend."

Nicklesby gave a low bow. "And good night to you, young Gawan."

As he crossed the great hall and jogged up the steps, Gawan recalled his medieval days as Guardian Knight. Scores of fierce knights in just as many battles unknowingly had Gawan watching their backs, making sure they didn't leave their mortal world until 'twas truly their time to go.

Had he himself but chosen a different path ...

He pushed open the heavy door to his chamber and stepped inside. Aye, he'd been given a rare opportunity. A gift, really, that few other Guardians received, or even dreamed of receiving: the post of Earthbound Angel. And he was bloody grateful for it. Hopefully, he'd be worthy of accomplishing such a task as Ellie's.

He closed the door, brushed his teeth with that fine-tasting cleaning paste Nicklesby always purchased, pulled off his clothes, and crawled into bed. On the morrow, he'd have a clear head. Ellie needed his help and he had wings to shed. Mayhap he'd start by returning to the spot where he'd found her.

After a few moments, the low whistle of the night's bluster seeping into the old castle walls lulled him to drowsiness.

Thoughts turned to the past once more, and Gawan recalled Castle Grimm right after construction.

'Twas a sturdy keep, and he'd enjoyed his days here then, as well. Never had the thought crossed his mind he'd be living in the same castle more than nine hundred years in the future.

His eyelids drooped a time or two, and he was nigh onto giving in to much-deserved rest, until a shiver caused him to open his eyes.

He'd forgotten to stoke the fire. He'd freeze to death by morn if he let it burn out. Even with the prestigious title of Guardian, he still faced the same comfort measures as a mortal. All except death, anyway.

With a grunt and several fine Welsh curses, Gawan threw the covers back, raised his naked self from the bed, and crossed the cold floor to the hearth. Grabbing the iron poker, he stabbed and shifted the embers, then set a new log on the grate. As he kneeled before the hearth, he stared into the building flames. 'Twas a generous-enough fire.

Just as he rose, a small intake of breath from somewhere close behind ceased his movement.

Ellie.

Oooh, I shouldn't look but eeek! I can't help it!

Gawan looked for something to shield himself, saw only the damn poker, then changed his mind.

He heaved a sigh. "I apologize for my state of undress," he said, peering over his shoulder, "but from the look on your face, 'tisn't overly offensive." He grinned. "Say something, girl, before you make me blush."

Ellie's cheeks glowed. "Good Lord," she whispered, then blinked and looked him square in the eye.

"Who—no,
what,
are you?"

Chapter Three

Amused. Cocky. No, not cocky. Confident. Definitely that.

Ellie's mouth went dry. Putting aside the fact that Gawan stood before her in all his muscled nakedness, she was fascinated by the tattooed markings, much like the ones across his chest, that decorated his back, from shoulder to shoulder, then down his spine. She couldn't make herself stop looking. Buck naked and not seeming to care, Gawan grinned as he looked over his shoulder. Thank God he had the decency
not
to turn around.

She did, though, just in case his decency slipped. "Sorry," she muttered.

He laughed, mumbled something in what she could only assume was Welsh, then made a rustling noise she sincerely hoped was him pulling his clothes on. Not that he wasn't something
veeery
spectacular to appreciate. Statue material, really, except with a much bigger—

" 'Tis safe enough now, girl."

Ellie turned around. "I really don't mean to keep dropping in on you like this," she said, barely noticing Gawan wore nothing more than a pair of jeans, and his tousled dark curls rested boyishly on his shoulders. He looked like a wild warrior from some medieval movie. "I can't seem to help it.

I mean," she said, "I
would
help it, if I could, but I can't." She shook her head. "I don't know what's going on. But for some reason. I feel you do."

Even though he gave her an easy smile, she could tell that something bothered him.

He shrugged into a baggy shirt he'd grabbed off the back of a chair and inclined his head to the door. "Come. There will be plenty of time for speech on the morrow, after you've rested. The chamber Nicklesby readied for you earlier is just next door." He crossed the floor and pulled the door open. "I give you my word, you'll be safe."

"I know that," she said. Somehow, she did. "But no way can I go to sleep without a few answers."

She took a step closer. "Please?"

Gawan studied her, scrubbed a hand over his chin, then gave her a nod. "Aye. If it will ease your mind a bit, I'll tell you what I can, which I fear isn't overmuch at present." He closed the door.

"Mayhap you should sit."

Sit? Nothing good ever happened after the suggestion to sit before the Telling of Whatever. But since she'd asked for it, and she really didn't have a clue what was happening, or how she kept appearing in this man's bedroom, Ellie found a comfy window seat and sat.

And waited.

Meanwhile, this guy she didn't even know—Gawan Conwyk—paced with his hands clasped behind his back and his dark brows drawn close, as though he were in deep, deep thought.

Somehow, she felt as though she were in deep, deep doo-doo.

Gawan grabbed a straight-backed chair, pulled it up, and sat across from her. He leaned forward.

"Can you recall anything else other than what you told me earlier?"

Ellie thought about it. And thought some more. Had it been tonight? It seemed a lot longer than that.

"I remember being wet and sitting on the road." She focused. "Wet and cold. Lights, I think. Really bright ones, and then ..." She looked at Gawan. "You. I only remember you." She took in a hearty breath and studied the room. "I remember getting into your truck, then coming here." She snapped her fingers. "I remember Nicklesby."

A smile lifted the corner of Gawan's mouth.
Cute smile,
she thought.
Cute and comforting. Nice
lips. Really nice lips.

"Nicklesby leaves a grand impression on everyone, I'll warrant." He scrubbed his brow. "Do you know how you came to be in the lane?"

The lane. How
did
she end up on the lane? For that matter, how had she ended up in the north of England? "I just can't remember."

" 'Tis fine, girl."

The way he said
girl
came out
gel. Very charming,
she thought.

He brushed a hand over his mouth and tried to hide a smile. She noticed he did that often. Then he cleared his throat and studied her again, hard, those brown eyes boring into her as if he could will the information from her brain. She wished he could.

"Can you recall your family? Do you have siblings? Your mother and sire, mayhap?"

Ellie thought hard. Certainly a normal person would remember their own family? She closed her eyes, thinking for some stupid reason it would help her concentrate. Maybe help her focus better.

Sire? Who said
sire
anymore?

Then it came. First pitch-blackness, then a flash of light. Yellowed light, foggy and dim. It illuminated a scene, almost as though she were watching an old movie. It faded just as fast as it had appeared.

"What is it?"

Ellie opened her eyes and stared at Gawan. "Not much. A young girl, maybe eight or nine years old, sitting on a wooden dock with an old man."

Gawan cocked his head. "A wooden dock?"

Ellie nodded. "Yeah. A dock floating over the water. Maybe a river?" She recalled the scene again.

"I think it was me. Maybe with my grandpa? But how do I know it's my grandpa?"

"Nothing more?" he asked, his voice calm, soothing.

She nodded. "When I left here, before, I remember being somewhere black, cold at first, then warm.

And it smelled very earthy. I couldn't see anything, though. But it felt weird."

Gawan frowned, scratched his jaw, then sighed. "I've something to tell you that may frighten you, but there's no sense in putting the matter off." He reached out a hand, large, with thick veins, callused, and squeezed her own hand. She liked how it felt against her skin. "I beg you, don't be afraid," he said.

The pit of Ellie's stomach lurched. "What is it?"

He cracked his knuckles. "I suppose I should have told you from the first, but you kept disappearing." He sighed. "I have a rather, well, unconventional occupation."

She stared. What did his occupation have anything to do with her situation? Certainly, he had a good reason.
"Sooo.
What is it?"

Those soulful brown eyes rimmed by dark lashes blinked; then Gawan leaned closer. His soapy scent wafted toward her nose. "I sort of ... see the unliving."

Silence.

"Help them, actually," he said. "Guide them. Along with others in need. Of help, that is."

More silence.

Without moving her head, Ellie glanced around. She scanned each corner of the expansive room, looking for a hidden camera, a hidden camera
crew,
or who knew what lurking in the corner, ready to jump out. Then she locked eyes with Gawan when nothing did.

"You what?" she asked. She scooted closer to the edge of her seat.

He shoved a hand through his hair. "I know it sounds ridiculous, unfathomable, mayhap, but 'tis the truth. I vow it." He cleared his throat. "I'm a ... Guardian, of sorts. A
gwarcheidiol,
to be exact." He coughed. "Sort of."

Ellie peeked over the very broad shoulder of Gawan Conwyk and eyed the door. The one she'd be going out of at any second. Good Lord, how could someone
that
cute be
that
delusional? Oh, his poor mother.

"Ellie?"

Her eyes darted back to Gawan, who had the look of a wounded puppy. Too bad. Didn't matter how cute and sexy he was—he had
issues.
Major ones. Ones she felt sure she couldn't help him with.

And here she sat in his bedroom.

He thought he saw
ghosts.
And he claimed to be a
gwarcheidiol?
What the
bleep
was
that?

With her fingers digging into the side of the armrests, Ellie slowly stood, and her muscles bunched as she got ready to make a break for the door.

"She's going to bolt!" a gravelly voice barked from behind the large oak door. "Grab her!"

"Hush, Sir Godfrey! You'll frighten the poor lamb."

"Move over, woman! I cannot see a bloody thing!"

Ellie froze as two—images?—sifted, no, fell through the
closed
door. She blinked, rubbed her eyes with her knuckles, and stared.

A strange word grumbled from Gawan's throat. Ellie suspected it wasn't nice.

The images appeared to be a man and a woman, slightly transparent and wispy and looking as though they'd stepped out of another century. They slowly erected themselves. The woman covered her red lips with two fingers and gasped. The man coughed.

The woman had a big bird on her head.

"Now, Ellie," Gawan said. His voice, while deep and a bit raspy, resonated in a low, soothing tone.

Sexy, she'd think, if the situation weren't so bizarre. "Mayhap you should sit? Come"—he touched her elbow—"settle back down. I'll explain."

Ellie looked at the man and woman, who simply stood stiff and stared back at her. Blinking.

They'd just stumbled through a closed solid-oak door.

That just wasn't possible.

She slid a glance at Gawan, whose eyes pleaded with her to do something. Sit? No, she wouldn't sit.