Into Thin Air (35 page)

He'd given Gawan a slight nod, then had gone back to staring at the space between his feet.

Even Nicklesby, Gawan noticed, sat very still in a corner chair, simply staring. Jason sat with Ellie's sister; both were quiet. Everyone looked exhausted.

It had been a night from hell.

After the medics had all but pried Ellie from Gawan's arms, they'd rushed her to the infirmary. After quick X-rays, and CT scans of Ellie's head and body, they'd rushed her into emergency surgery.

While her arms and legs were uninjured, and her head, surprisingly, hadn't suffered any mishap, she had acquired multiple internal injuries, which, had she not been found when she had, would surely have taken her life.

The constable had arrived and taken the woman at the farm and her drunken husband into custody.

While the man had still been unconscious with drink, the woman confessed everything.

Her husband had struck Ellie with his truck that night Gawan had found her. Fearful of being sent to jail for drunk driving or, worse, vehicular homicide, he brought Ellie to his wife and forced the woman to take care of Ellie. They'd moved her back and forth from the farm to the kirk, afraid of their secret being found out. Ellie could not have lasted on her own, without food, water, warmth.

So for that, Gawan was eternally grateful to the woman.

Still, they had no idea why Ellie had been on Grimm's lane. That the man had nearly run Gawan off the road while carrying an unconscious Ellie in the back of his truck made Gawan's stomach ache.

And now she fought for her very life.

All those concerned about Ellie had been directed to wait in the intensive care waiting lobby until her surgery was completed. Which, thought Gawan, was taking bloody forever. The medics had taken her at close to five the evening before, and now 'twas nearly four in the morning.

For the hundredth time, he rose and began to pace. Shoving a hand through his knotted hair, he rubbed his eyes and walked to the window. In twenty hours, his retirement would take effect. And while he knew he wouldn't remember later, he wanted to know now that Ellie would be well and healthy. 'Twas making him daft, the waiting, and the
click click click
of the minute hand on the clunky old wall clock echoed so loudly in the lobby, he forced himself not to yank it from the wall and break it.

"Mr. Morgan?"

Everyone sitting stood up.

Rick Morgan crossed the floor, and as he passed Gawan, he inclined his head. "Come on."

Appreciation swept over Gawan, for the man certainly didn't have to allow Gawan to listen in on a personal family matter. Out in the hallway, the doctor waited. He looked weary, Gawan noted. And before Gawan could hop into the other man's head, he spoke.

"Your daughter is in critical condition, Mr. Morgan," he said, meeting Rick Morgan's eyes with a steady, forthright gaze through a pair of spectacles. "I don't know how she bloody made it as long as she did. Her lung was punctured by a fractured rib, and her spleen had ruptured. And the drastic shock she was in—well"—he glanced at Gawan—"it's a miracle she made it."

Rick Morgan held his younger daughter close. "Is she going to continue to make it?"

The doctor placed a hand on Rick Morgan's shoulder. "This is a critical time for her, I'm afraid.

She's young, and prior to this, she was healthy, so her chances are good. She's stable right now. But given what she's been through—" He squeezed Rick's shoulder. "We'll see."

Once the physician left, a nurse dressed in blue trousers and tunic walked up and smiled. "Are you the Morgan family?"

Rick Morgan nodded.

"Two can come back," she said.

"Just two?" Ellie's brother Kyle said.

"I'm afraid so. ICU regulations." She glanced around. "Which two? You can follow me."

Gawan locked eyes with the nurse.
Five can come in and stay at all times, even during nonvisitors'

hours, if they wish. Let your coworkers know the physician says it's all right.

"Okay," she said, eyes wide. "You can all follow me."

Rick Morgan looked at Gawan, and then silently followed the wide-eyed nurse. As they passed the small nurses' station in the center of the ward, Gawan willed them each to let the Morgans and him stay on in Ellie's room, just for good measure.

Gawan was in no way prepared to see his Intended the way he now saw her: tubes, beeping machines, her face pale, and a ventilator doing Ellie's breathing for her. Aye, he knew the names of such machines, and he hated seeing them strapped to her.

Ellie's sister cried and held her hand.

Her brothers, flanking Ellie's sides, just stood there, silent, their hands resting on the covers beside her.

Rick Morgan's face had blanched, and as big as the man was, Gawan noticed the trembling in his hands as he swiped back a bit of Ellie's hair. "Christ, girl," he said, his voice cracking. "Christ."

Gawan stood back, near the foot of the bed, and watched Ellie's chest rise and fall with each horrible click of that machine. He watched for as long as he could stand it, before he simply closed his eyes.

And so it went on like that, all day long. The Morgan siblings went in and out, graciously allowing others to replace them. Only Rick Morgan and Gawan remained constantly. The Dreadmoor knights took their turns coming to see Ellie, but none of them stayed long. Only Jason, who by the bloody saints looked as pale as Ellie, lingered a while, whispered something in her ear, and then left.

Hours passed by, and Gawan didn't sit—not one minute of them. He could do nothing, save stand beside Ellie, hold her hand, and pray she'd make it. Once, when Rick Morgan stepped into the garderobe, and no others were about, Gawan whispered into Ellie's ear,
"I mewn hon buchedd a I
mewn I 'r 'n gyfnesaf, Adduneda 'm cam atat forever 'n ddarpar."
'Twas a heartfelt verse in his native tongue, and he prayed that, even though she was deep in slumber, she might hear it. He supposed he'd never know.

'Twas hours later when Nicklesby touched his arm. "Sir, are you aware of the time?"

Gawan glanced at the clock. Nearly six p.m. "Nay, not until just now."

"You've only a few more hours remaining," Nicklesby said, his voice quiet. "I know this is passing sorrowful, Sir Gawan."

"I know what needs to be done, my friend," Gawan said, grasping Nicklesby's bony shoulder and giving a thankful squeeze. "Not yet, though."

"Poor lamb," he said, casting a glance at Ellie. "I'll be just outside, if you need me." Then he left.

By the next hour, everything changed drastically.

'Twas Rick Morgan, Andi, Tristan, and Gawan in Ellie's room when her body jerked. That blasted intubator began to shriek, and within the next second, the monitor indicating her heartbeat let out a long, solid scream. Gawan knew well and good what that meant. He and Rick Morgan yelled,

"Nurse!" at the same time.

The nurse ran in, took one look at Ellie, pushed past Gawan, and slammed her fist against a round silver button on the wall, sending off an alarm overhead.

A code was called.

Gawan was losing Ellie.

The curtain to Ellie's room was yanked, and in a matter of seconds, the room was filled with all sorts of hospital staff, squeezing past one another to get to her. A doctor—not the one who had performed the surgery—ran in and yelled, "Someone get these people out of here!"

And then what his Ellie would have termed a Fiasco ensued. Again.

Because by the bloody saints above, Gawan wasn't going anywhere.

While he didn't want to interfere with Ellie's care, Gawan knew he could not leave. Not for one bloody second. He willed the doctor and other staff to ignore everyone else and simply do their jobs, which they did.

Meanwhile, everyone from the waiting lobby poured out to stand in wait by Ellie's room. Even the Grimm ghosts had shown up.

Gawan paced, glanced over shoulders, and swore. Everything was chaotic, Bailey was crying, Andi was crying, and the men were cursing in various languages.

Gawan lurked into the physician's mind.

She's gone.

"Nay!" Gawan yelled at the doctor. "Stay your course—do you hear? Keep to your bloody task!"

Fury rolled inside him like a great North Sea wave, his insides burned with it, and as he watched the lifeless body of his truly Intended lay there, unresponsive, Gawan let out a battle cry he'd not released in centuries.

And as all eyes turned to him, everything, everyone in Ellie's room grew completely silent. No beeping machines, no curses, no commands from the doctor, no weeping. Silence.

With his eyes locked on Ellie's face, he released something else. An ancient Welsh verse. Rather, a plea. A
barter.

His life force for Ellie's.

And just that fast, without hesitation, it was done.

A white light boomed into the room, and silently, everyone squinted against its brightness. The stillness was deafening.

Like a bolt of lightning, the memories Gawan had shared with Ellie of Aquitaine flashed through his mind at top speed, yet he saw each one with perfect clarity. And just at that last second, that last breath of a heartbeat, just before Gawan of Conwyk vanished into thin air before the entire ICU, Ellie opened her eyes, and their gazes locked.

And then Gawan disappeared.

Ellie blinked and looked around. After several more blinks, her vision cleared, somewhat, and she wondered where she was and why so many people she didn't even know were standing around, staring at her.

All at once, as if she'd been in a soundproof room and someone had flung open the door, disjointed, loud noise crowded in, and before she let her eyes drift shut, she met the gaze of her dad, who gave her a smile, although she thought he looked as if he'd been through absolute hell.

She sincerely hoped she hadn't caused that look.

Before she could investigate that notion, a heaviness fell over her, and she drifted off into a hard, fast sleep.

Chapter Thirty-One

Northeastern England

A Midsummer's Eve

Six months later

"By the by, sir," Nicklesby said, running this way and that, and straightening Gawan's already-straightened tunic, "you always want to present your very best in
any
given situation, aye?"

Gawan frowned at Nicklesby. "Will you cease with your bothersome nagging? I'm just going to the bloody bookstore." Gawan pushed the wiry man away and headed across the hall. "Bleeding priests," he muttered.

"Forgive my boldness, sir, but ever since your retirement, you've been passing cranky," Nicklesby said with a sniff.

"Stodgy is more like it," said Sir Godfrey, sifting through the stone wall. "I daresay you're more than difficult to live with of late."

Gawan grunted, ignored the frilly spirit and strode toward the front door. "Mayhap it has to do with the lot of whiny whelps I've been forced to babysit these past few months."

As he neared the entrance, he passed the large oval mirror hanging just near the doorway, stopped, and backed up. First, he glanced at his visage, then tilted the mirror away from the wall, just a bit, and peered behind it. With a shrug, he moved on. "I'll return shortly."

With that, he left.

Nicklesby let out an enormous sigh and stared at the doorway. "Godfrey, 'tis far more difficult to manage than I thought 'twould be. 'Tis a miracle, his return. But he's not himself."

"Aye," Godfrey said. "Passing odd, to think he recalls centuries of things, even being a bloody Angel."

"Just not his charges," Lady Follywolle said. " 'Tis breaking my heart, in truth." She sniffed and dabbed her eye with a lace square. "I can barely take it another moment!"

"Here, now, Millicent," Godfrey said, patting her shoulder. "We're lucky to have him back at all. If it weren't for all of that bloody chivalry, he'd have remained"—he jabbed his finger Heavenward

—"up
there."

Nicklesby shook his head and
tsked.
"So right, Godfrey. 'Tis frightfully quiet round here of late, though." He inclined his head. "Look at young Davy there. He just sits by yon window and peers out. He barely even plays with Cotswald."

"The lass fares well, though, aye?" Godfrey asked.

Nicklesby nodded. "Indeed, she does. A full recovery. And as we'd hoped, she's following her previous footsteps."

"Only Sir Tristan has the matter under control, aye?" Lady Follywolle said. "Lady Ellie certainly suspected something, or someone, before. Her getting hit by that truck may have been an accident, but she didn't willingly take a midwinter's swim in the North Sea."

"Aye, in truth, the entire garrison has been on guard, including young Jason and another, standing sentry at her cottage," Nicklesby said. "A fine lot of lads, those."

"Indeed," Godfrey said. "What if neither Ellie nor Gawan remembers?"

Nicklesby frowned. "Godfrey, you old poop. 'Tis naught but our high hopes that she and Sir Gawan will even notice each another." He
tsked
again. "It goes completely against the Order's rules, in truth."

"And her family?" Lady Beauchamp said. "They don't remember any of us either?"

"Nay," Nicklesby said. "An odd set of laws, yet laws just the same. I imagine 'twould be difficult for so many to assume no memory of us, versus
having
no memory of us, aye?"

"And you're sure Elgan, Fergus, and Aizeene know what to do?" Godfrey said.

"Aye, they know," Nicklesby said. He sighed again. "They've yet another meeting planned tonight with the Order. I mean, the boy gave his life force, for pity's sake. Still, we can only hope." He looked at them. "Nothing is guaranteed, and you know how stodgy the board members can be."

They all sighed at once, as though agreeing, and then Lady Follywolle cocked her head, her coiffed swan giving a nod. "Have any of you noticed Sir Gawan's obsession over the hall mirror of late?"

She shook her head. " 'Tis strange, in truth, the way he looks it over."

"Aye," Godfrey said, "I've seen him do it more than once meself."

" 'Tis many a thing I've noticed," Nicklesby said, "that nags him, yet he has no true memory of." He turned and headed back to the larder. "Although I can't imagine what it is with the mirror." He shook his head. "Passing odd, indeed."