smiled, although hesitantly, and not yet a full-blown smile. "Okay."
Gawan hurried upstairs. Just as he reached his chamber, an amused grumble sounded from a shadowy alcove behind him. As he looked, a fiery ember burned at the end of a cigar as the inhaler pulled a smoke. At least, that was what the illusion was.
Gawan scrubbed the back of his neck. "Aye, Sir Godfrey, what do you want?"
With much bluster, Sir Godfrey illuminated only his ghostly shadowy features. "You fancy the wench, aye?" He chuckled. "Ye might be able to fool some, boy, but not me."
"No doubt," Gawan said. "I'm here to help her. Make retirement. Gain my mortality. Nothing more."
"Even if said wench was beyond pleasing to the eye?" Godfrey added.
With a nod, Gawan smiled. "Aye, even there's that. And I don't need your meddlesome old self giving aide. Now, she awaits, and with Nicklesby, Davy, and Lady Bella, no less." He gave Godfrey a pointed look. "You and the others be gentle with her. She's a modern maid and is having a difficult time coming to terms with things." He waved a hand. "Don't all of you cluster about her so. And do not mention my wings again. If I can accomplish the task without her seeing them, 'twill be better."
A wide, wicked smile stretched across Godfrey's weathered face. "Oh, aye. The poor maid hasn't a clue what a gwarcheidiol is, does she?"
Gawan blew out a breath and shoved a hand through his hair. "I told her it was a Guardian of sorts.
And that is how it will remain, Godfrey."
The old ghost chuckled. "As you say, boy. But methinks you'll need every trick you can muster, including those fetching wings of yours. And don't fret. We most assuredly will not cluster."
Godfrey disappeared with another deep-throated chuckle.
Gawan narrowed his eyes at the empty shadowed space in the wall and turned to his chamber door.
No telling what that old busybody knight was up to. But truly, Gawan could do nothing more than pray Ellie was strong enough to withstand it. The ladies, he knew, would be kind, even if a bit overwhelming. But Godfrey? The saints only knew.
In truth, 'twas best that Ellie knew as little as possible about who he was, or his origins. 'Twas bad enough, he thought, that should he save her life, which he fully intended to do, she'd always have a nagging memory of her time spent at Grimm. Not quite a realistic or corporeal memory, of course, but enough of a nuisance to make her occasionally pause and scratch her head.
Thankfully, once he gained his retirement, he'd have no memory of her whatsoever. Which, he thought, didn't sit very well with him, as he already found himself rather enamored with her. But
'twas the unavoidable way of it. 'Twas the requirement of being a gwarcheidiol. An Earthbound Guardian.
Rather, an Angel.
With that somewhat gloomy thought in mind, he hurried through his washing, anxious to get down to the kitchens before Ellie was overcome by Grimm's resident ghouls. Or disappeared again.
After a thorough brushing of teeth, Gawan pulled on jeans, a warm tunic, socks, and boots. He hastened downstairs to the kitchens, and just as he stepped through the wide arch, he stopped and blinked.
He shouldn't have been oversurprised.
There, at the long table, sat Ellie. And around her, beside her, and atop every flat surface in the larder perched more spirits than even he'd seen over the past fortnight.
So much for not clustering.
As he watched, he had no choice but to admire the manner in which Ellie handled herself. While her face looked more than a bit pasty, she sat with her hands folded, making somewhat of an attempt to answer the deluge of questions being thrown her way.
"What's it truly like, young lady, to be In-Betwinxt?" asked Lady Follywolle, the beak of her coiffed swan nearly impaling Ellie's eye.
He couldn't help himself. He listened. Again.
What's it feel like? Are you insane? It feels like crap! she said in her thoughts, a thin smile stretching over her very lovely white
Gawan hurried upstairs. Just as he reached his chamber, an amused grumble sounded from a shadowy alcove behind him. As he looked, a fiery ember burned at the end of a cigar as the inhaler pulled a smoke. At least, that was what the illusion was.
Gawan scrubbed the back of his neck. "Aye, Sir Godfrey, what do you want?"
With much bluster, Sir Godfrey illuminated only his ghostly shadowy features. "You fancy the wench, aye?" He chuckled. "Ye might be able to fool some, boy, but not me."
"No doubt," Gawan said. "I'm here to help her. Make retirement. Gain my mortality. Nothing more."
"Even if said wench was beyond pleasing to the eye?" Godfrey added.
With a nod, Gawan smiled. "Aye, even there's that. And I don't need your meddlesome old self giving aide. Now, she awaits, and with Nicklesby, Davy, and Lady Bella, no less." He gave Godfrey a pointed look. "You and the others be gentle with her. She's a modern maid and is having a difficult time coming to terms with things." He waved a hand. "Don't all of you cluster about her so. And do not mention my wings again. If I can accomplish the task without her seeing them, 'twill be better."
A wide, wicked smile stretched across Godfrey's weathered face. "Oh, aye. The poor maid hasn't a clue what a gwarcheidiol is, does she?"
Gawan blew out a breath and shoved a hand through his hair. "I told her it was a Guardian of sorts.
And that is how it will remain, Godfrey."
The old ghost chuckled. "As you say, boy. But methinks you'll need every trick you can muster, including those fetching wings of yours. And don't fret. We most assuredly will not cluster."
Godfrey disappeared with another deep-throated chuckle.
Gawan narrowed his eyes at the empty shadowed space in the wall and turned to his chamber door.
No telling what that old busybody knight was up to. But truly, Gawan could do nothing more than pray Ellie was strong enough to withstand it. The ladies, he knew, would be kind, even if a bit overwhelming. But Godfrey? The saints only knew.
In truth, 'twas best that Ellie knew as little as possible about who he was, or his origins. 'Twas bad enough, he thought, that should he save her life, which he fully intended to do, she'd always have a nagging memory of her time spent at Grimm. Not quite a realistic or corporeal memory, of course, but enough of a nuisance to make her occasionally pause and scratch her head.
Thankfully, once he gained his retirement, he'd have no memory of her whatsoever. Which, he thought, didn't sit very well with him, as he already found himself rather enamored with her. But
'twas the unavoidable way of it. 'Twas the requirement of being a gwarcheidiol. An Earthbound Guardian.
Rather, an Angel.
With that somewhat gloomy thought in mind, he hurried through his washing, anxious to get down to the kitchens before Ellie was overcome by Grimm's resident ghouls. Or disappeared again.
After a thorough brushing of teeth, Gawan pulled on jeans, a warm tunic, socks, and boots. He hastened downstairs to the kitchens, and just as he stepped through the wide arch, he stopped and blinked.
He shouldn't have been oversurprised.
There, at the long table, sat Ellie. And around her, beside her, and atop every flat surface in the larder perched more spirits than even he'd seen over the past fortnight.
So much for not clustering.
As he watched, he had no choice but to admire the manner in which Ellie handled herself. While her face looked more than a bit pasty, she sat with her hands folded, making somewhat of an attempt to answer the deluge of questions being thrown her way.
"What's it truly like, young lady, to be In-Betwinxt?" asked Lady Follywolle, the beak of her coiffed swan nearly impaling Ellie's eye.
He couldn't help himself. He listened. Again.
What's it feel like? Are you insane? It feels like crap! she said in her thoughts, a thin smile stretching over her very lovely white
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