Thirteen Chances (21 page)

Christian’s brows furrowed as he waited for her to answer.

“Of course I want to handle it,” she stated. “I’m a lot tougher than I look, Arrick.”

His smile blinded her. “I see that.”

She placed her hand on the door, but before she could push it open, Christian stopped her.

“One more thing, Emma,” he said, giving her another serious look. “Grimm is a haven for spirits, and the ones who reside here have been sort of … waiting on you to hear of them. But they’re about to burst to meet you.”

She swallowed. “More ghosts, huh?”

He smiled. “Scores of them.”

Emma nodded. “Well, I think I’m certainly ready to meet any and every soul who inhabits Castle Grimm.”

“Good. I’m sure they’ll find you sooner than later.”

Together they stepped out of the spiral stairwell.

Jason was waiting, a huge grin on his adorable face.

Emma didn’t think she’d ever look at him the same. He was once a ghost, she reminded herself.
Unfreakingbelievable.

“Lady Emma, there you are,” he said, looking pleased with himself. “Are you ready to head to the chippy? I vow, I’m near starved.”

Christian frowned. “We were—”

“Oh, Chris,” said Jason, his eager smile still at the ready, “Gawan and Justin Catesby are looking for you. They need you in the bailey, posthaste.” He winked at Emma. “For training.”

Christian met Emma’s gaze. “Do you mind?”

“We won’t be gone overly long,” offered Jason.

Emma smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

Christian glowered at Jason, who returned that sour look with a victorious grin, then turned to Emma. The sour look turned smoldering. “Until.”

Then he disappeared, his white teeth the last to vanish.

Emma reached over with her forefinger and poked Jason in the chest. She shook her head and looked at him. “It’s almost too much for my mind to wrap around. You were once
dead.
A ghost, just like Christian.” She shook her head and studied the young knight. She knew something was different about him. “How can it be?”

Jason looked down at her and grinned. Then he inclined his head to the main entrance. They started toward it. “ ’Twas a miracle, lady. A blooming miracle. I cannot describe it any more than that.” He opened the door for her and they stepped outside. “And the fact that it didn’t simply affect me, but all of the Dragonhawk knights, as well, is something to consider.”

Jason led Emma to a dark blue Rover. He held the door open for her as she climbed in, and they soon were driving over the wooden planks of the drawbridge and through the gatehouse. Turning left, they made their way down the crag and then took a winding, single-track lane that hugged the coastline. The day certainly had a grim look about it, with gray, swirling skies and the bleak, brownish grass. Clumps of faded heather dotted the area, as well as a few sheep, all on one side of the lane. On the other side was the coastline, with a pebbly beach and choppy North Sea water.

“What was it like?” she asked, glancing over at Jason.

He tossed her a look, then a grin. “Being a ghost, you mean?” He shrugged. “Saints, I was one for so long, it just sort of became my way of existence. There are actually many things I miss dreadfully, like slipping through walls, or just … making myself be one place, then another.” He laughed. “My master, Lord Tristan—he’d get so bloody irritated at me. He’d holler, ‘Jason!’ and I’d just pop up behind him.” He chuckled. “Used to drive him nuts. I don’t think I ever grew weary of it.”

His expression turned solemn, then. “You crave the human touch, though. Not just the touch of a woman, mind you—
any
touch at all.” He shook his head. “Nay. I’d not trade slipping through walls for my life now for anything.”

Emma watched him closely. He couldn’t be more than twenty. So young, yet so … old and wise at the same time. Sad, and yet … overjoyed that he’d overcome fate.

“I’m awfully glad your miracle happened,” she said. “You’re too young and way too handsome to remain a ghost for eternity.” She eyed him. “I bet you have all the girls in a one-hundred-mile radius just drooling over you.”

He threw her a sideways grin. “Mayhap.” He pointed. “Look there; that’s the village. I can smell the bakery from here.”

Emma did look, and found a quaint little seaside village, with small, whitewashed buildings and stone establishments nestled at the bottom of the hill and hugging the water’s edge. They made their way toward it.

As Jason crept through the tiny streets, he pointed out several B and B’s, a post office, a fishmonger, and a bakery. Finally he pulled alongside the curb in front of the chip shop and cut the engine. He turned to face her. “As much as I jest with Sir Christian, I want you to know that I uphold the highest respect for him as a knight and a man,” he said. With his big hand, he reached over to lay it over hers. He squeezed. “Do not give up hope,” he said, his eyes wide and earnest. “I understand the difficulties of mortals and ghosts being together. I watched Sir Tristan with his wife, Andi. ’Twasn’t easy for them, but their love was—
is
—so strong, I believe it would have withstood all things had he not regained his mortality.”

Emma considered his words. The extent of what he was saying struck her right square in the gut. Another mortal woman had apparently fallen deeply in love with a ghost. She’d traded the warmth of a live human touch, just to be with that ghost. That was the thing that got Emma the most. How she’d once envisioned ghosts and specters was completely wrong. So very, very wrong. They didn’t exist beneath white gauzy sheets, with little holes poked out for eyes. They didn’t float around like a gray lady or a green lady. They were souls. They were themselves, as they had been in life.

Just
dead.

Emma met Jason’s intent gaze, and she smiled. It was a weak smile—she felt it.

His return smile was steady, stable. Strong. “Just keep in mind his feelings, lady,” Jason said. “Whilst a spirit in truth, he is still a man. ’Tisn’t often a ghost finds a mortal who believes as fiercely as you do.” He chuckled. “More here than elsewhere, I imagine.”

Emma laughed. “That’s the same thing Christian said.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Thank you. For your ghostly insight, I mean.” She glanced out over the village. “It’s very weird. Before today, rather, before I came here, I never would have thought any of this possible.” She returned her gaze to Jason’s. “And had someone come to me with these notions, I would have thought them a lunatic. I’m so glad I was … enlightened.”

“As am I.” He quirked a brow. “I imagine he’s already asked you to cheer for him at tournament, aye?”

“He did,” said Emma. She smiled. “But I will quietly cheer for you, too.”

Jason winked. “Good. Now let’s eat. I’m starved.”

After ordering two fried cod-and-chips, plus Cokes, Jason led Emma down to the wharf at the foot of the hill, where they sat on a stone bench not three feet from the water’s edge. The sun still hadn’t shown itself, but the turtleneck sweater she had on kept her warm enough. The fried batter crunched as she bit into the cod, and the chips steamed in a cluster, crispy on the outside, soft on the inside.

She’d squirted lots of brown sauce and vinegar all over both.

Emma wiped her mouth, took a pull on her Coke, and turned to Jason, who’d just crammed the last of the fish into his mouth.

“Do you think a miracle could ever happen to Christian?” she asked.

Jason regarded her while he chewed. He finished and wiped his mouth. “I truly believe anything is possible,” he admitted. “With us, ’twas a matter of breaking a curse, righting a terrible wrong. But with Chris”—he glanced away—“ ’tis a bit more … complex.”

Emma blinked. “More complex than a curse?”

With a smile, Jason nodded. “Aye. And I fear you’ll have to pry the rest out of Sir Christian yourself.” He winked. “Even I know what boundaries not to cross with him.”

Emma understood that. The next time she and Christian were alone, she’d ask him about …
things.

“So this tournament,” she began. “Ghosts and mortals are able to compete with one another?”

Jason popped a handful of chips into his mouth, chewed, and shook his head. “Gawan and Chris are somehow able to accomplish it, but we think ’tis due to their attachment prior to Gawan’s retirement. None of us understand how they do it, but ’tis miraculous to watch. They don’t compete in tournament, though.

“The ghosts separate into teams and compete with one another”—he winked at her—“and there will be scores of ghosts from all over England, Scotland, and Wales—possibly even Ireland—showing up on the morrow. Events are judged and points awarded. There are ultimately two victors—one from the mortal team, one from the ghostly team.” He smiled. “Is that why you’re here? For the tournament?”

“No, although I’m awfully glad that I am now. It sounds fascinating.” Emma continued to explain to Jason her weird feelings, and what drove her to Arrick in the first place.

He listened attentively, then smiled. “Sounds to me that you weren’t searching for Arrick, but for the lord of Arrick instead.”

Emma wadded up her empty, white fish-and-chips paper and grinned. “You may be right, Jason.” Perhaps that
was
what drew her to Arrick. She didn’t know it at the time, though.

After that, they walked around the small village a bit. Emma purchased a few postcards from the general store, then stopped by the post office and sent one to Zoë and another to her parents, and then she and Jason climbed back into the Rover and headed to Grimm.

One thing was for certain: the view approaching Castle Grimm on land was vastly different than approaching by air. The castle loomed ahead on the cliffs, massive and dominating the coastline. She could easily imagine what it must have been like, centuries before, riding up to Grimm on horseback and seeing such an intimidating and foreboding structure.

Suddenly, Emma’s skin grew cold, and her vision blurred. She continued to stare straight ahead, and the more she looked, the more the vision changed. The scenery shifted, trees disappeared and reappeared in a different location, and people surrounded her. She was on horseback, and when Emma looked down, she saw her own tiny legs and feet sticking out on either side of the horse. She was riding behind someone …

“Emma? Is there aught amiss?” Jason’s voice interrupted her, seemingly from far away.

Emma blinked. The vision completely disappeared.

“Emma?”

She glanced at Jason, whose face was drawn with concern. “Yes?”

He’d stopped the Rover just outside the gatehouse. “You were staring off into space. Is something troubling you?”

“I, um,” she started. “Very strange, actually. I … thought I was riding on the back of a horse, but I wasn’t me,” she said. “I was a little girl.” She shook her head. “Weird, huh?”

Jason’s light green eyes studied her. Satisfied that she was okay, he nodded. “Weird, indeed, lady.” He pulled through the gatehouse, then slowly clamored over the drawbridge. The wooden planks
clack-clacked
as they passed over, and then Jason parked in the small gravel lot, close to the main entrance.

When Emma stepped out, she immediately heard a strange and unique noise. It sounded like … metal against metal. It rang out over the courtyard.

Before she could ask Jason what it was, he grinned and grasped her by the arm. “You’re in for a treat, lady,” he said, pulling her along. “Come on. You won’t ever see this anywhere else, save Grimm, I’d warrant.”

Jason led—no,
dragged
—Emma through the courtyard, then out a small iron gate that led to a large, grassed-in area.

It was more like an arena, she thought.

In the distance, Emma could make out a small gathering of people, who all seemed to be watching something of interest a bit farther away. The closer she and Jason drew to the small crowd, the more Emma could make out who was watching, and what was being watched.

Her jaw slid open, and she stopped, efficiently yanking Jason to a halt, too. He grinned at her, then gave her a gentle tug.

“Come on, girl,” he said, chuckling. “You’ve got to get closer than that.”

Emma walked, grateful that Jason led the way, making sure she didn’t trip and fall on her face.

Emma’s eyes widened as they locked on to the pair of shirtless men circling one another, several feet from where she stood: Gawan and Christian, hair loose and wild, fierce scowls upon their faces, and each holding a very sharp and lethal-looking sword.

Well, Christian held
two.

Gawan, though, held one that had to be nearly as tall as Emma.

They looked like they were trying to kill each other.

“Oh, my dear, look! We’ve a seat for you!”

Emma slowly peeled her gaze from the sword fight to the voice she’d just heard. Her eyes enlarged again as she took in the small crowd of sword-fight watchers.

Ellie sat with all three children, plus Davy. Next to Davy, Justin Catesby. On the other side of Ellie, Godfrey. And in front of them, perched in two folding chairs, sat two ladies Emma hadn’t met yet. One she was drawn to immediately. Her hair had been fixed in the shape of a swan. The other, well, she looked sopping wet. Both wore period clothing, although Emma had no clue as to which period.

The lady with the bird on her head waved and patted the seat next to her.

“Come along, dear, and have a seat,” she said, smiling.

The sopping-wet lady waved.

“Emma, come on!” hollered Ellie. Her boys were bouncing in their seats.

Justin Catesby simply stared. And grinned.

Jason pulled on her arm. “Come on or you’ll miss it.”

Emma allowed him to pull her to her seat, next to the swan lady. Ellie quickly introduced them to Emma.

“These are Ladies Follywolle and Beauchamp,” Ellie said. “They couldn’t wait to meet you.”

Emma greeted them with a smile. “Nice to meet you, too.”

Then a string of harsh words in a language Emma didn’t understand flew from the fighters, and her attention was immediately drawn to them. She’d not seen Christian, or Gawan, for that matter, with their shirts off, and the sight of it now nearly made her break out in a sweat. Both men had multiple black tattoos, but they were different. Gawan’s were small, all down his back, across his chest, and down his arms to his wrists.