Boreal and John Grey Season 1 (24 page)

“Mike.” She rushed to his side, patted his back as he tried to breathe. Deja vu. She saw herself in a dirty alley, rubbing Finn’s back as he coughed and tried to breathe. “You’ll be fine.”

“Scott.” Mike coughed.

Cursing under her breath, Ella pulled off her scarf and pressed it to his neck to stop the bleeding. “Hold this here. I’ll be right back.”

Pulling her gun, clicking off the safety, she stalked to the bedroom and peeked around the corner. A grunt and a hiss told her something was indeed happening inside. Clicks and sighs filled the air, rising to a crescendo.

Breaking cover, she rushed into the room and found Finn struggling in the hold of two trolls. They were trying to drag him toward the writhing mist at the room’s end, where the Veil had torn. What the hell were they doing? Why would they want to pull Finn into the Grey?

“Ella!” It was Scott, cowering behind the door. His shirt was torn and there were blood stains on it. He seemed fine, though. Alive, at the very least. She grabbed him and shoved him out, then turned her attention back to Finn.

Whatever was happening, she couldn’t let them take him. Finn was kicking at the trolls, throwing his body this way and that, trying to loosen the hold. Dammit, again she couldn’t get a shot in. Simon had always said blades were the best weapon against the Shades. No wonder Finn preferred them to guns.

They were almost at the wall of dark mist. Pale shapes weaved in it, and she thought she saw a face. Finn twisted, looking over her shoulder. Met her eyes. There was despair in his.

Ella took aim. “Finn, down.”

She wasn’t sure he’d get it but he did, bending his knees and dropping his weight, folding into a half-crouch. Tugging on the troll’s grip, he curled into himself as much as possible.

Time slowed. A split second when the trolls towered over Finn, two perfect targets.

She fired two bullets, one after the other, into the troll’s heads. Two perfect shots. The trolls screeched, contorting, shimmering, breaking apart. Fading.

Finn fell, sprawling on his back, his breath leaving his lungs in a grunt. In the scuffle, he’d lost his bandana and his pale hair fanned around his head.

Ella waited, making sure the mist faded, too, and that no more Shades were coming. Questions stomped inside her head as she approached Finn. She holstered her gun and knelt by his side.

“Okay,” she said. “We need to talk. Now.”

“I think so, too,” Mike said from the door, arms folded over his chest. Ella raised a brow and followed Mike’s stare to Finn — and Finn’s exposed ears.

Hell
.

Chapter Three

Deja Vu

With a promise to Mike to talk in a short while, and with both him and Scott patched up and left to rest with stern instructions to call if they needed anything, Ella dragged Finn back to their apartment and sat him on the sofa. Another deja vu. Her whole life was circles within circles. She made tea, hands barely shaking as she poured the water into the mugs and added heaped spoonfuls of sugar to both. Maybe she was getting used to strange things.

Finn didn’t look up when she carried the mugs to the table. He was rubbing at his bandaged wrist, a faraway look in his eyes. Shivers went through his body.

“Earth to Finn.” Ella pushed the mug toward him. “Drink up. It’ll help.”

He took it, cradled it in his hands. Still didn’t meet her gaze. She sipped her tea, and warmth spread in her chest. They sat in the midst of chaos — the drawers on the floor, the papers strewn all over, the shards of a broken bowl. She was in the eye of a storm and didn’t know what to expect next.

She took a deep breath. “How the hell did the Shades come in here with all the charms we’ve carved on the doors and windows? It’s as if they had special invitation to enter.”

Finn showed no sign of hearing her.

“Finn. Where were the Shades taking you?”

He blinked at the mug in his hands as if he had no idea what it was doing there. He frowned.

“Come on, Finn. I’ve trusted you even though you belong with the enemy. Will you please tell me what you know?”

“They’re after me,” Finn whispered.

“You said that before, that the Shades are after you, but why?”

“I don’t know.” He put the mug back on the table and gripped the charms hanging around his neck.

“I saw a face in the mist,” she said. “Who was it?”

“A face?” His brows lifted.

Oh good, she was having hallucinations on top of everything. “Who might be after you?”

He shook his head.

“What do you know? Who are you, really?”

“Nobody.”

“Yeah sure. You’re royalty, you said so yourself.” Ella banged the mug down and Finn flinched. “If you vanished, they must be looking for you.”

Finn’s hands started to shake. She was about to grab his mug and force-feed the tea to him if necessary, but snagging his bandana he stood and walked to the window. He tied the black cloth into place with jerky movements. “I’m not royalty. I was disinherited when I was still a child. Believe me, I’m not important to them.”

Not the Shades. The elves
. “Why?”

“Because I have no magic. I’m a disgrace to the Boreals,” he said bitterly. “I was given a last chance — to pass the rite of heights when I was a child. I failed.”

She frowned. “What sort of rite?”

“They take you up on a cliff. Throw you off. With magic, you can stop the fall.”

A shiver wracked her. “And what did you do?”

“I fell.” The two words dropped like stones.

“Dammit, Finn, they threw you off a cliff when you were still a kid? Who did that, the priests or something?”

“My parents.”

She gaped. Anger was slowly building up inside her. “The hell?”

“They had to. And if I succeeded, they might keep me.” He shrugged. “I didn’t.”

She had no words for that. Pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place. “Is that when you broke your leg?”

He nodded, his back to her.

“And then what happened?”

He didn’t speak for a while, his body tense, his fingers white against the window frame. The wind whistled through the cracks, blowing back a strand of his hair. She tried to imagine him in his world, in the blinding ice and drifting snow, with the scaly wolves and feathered dragons, and fear tightened her chest. Watching his parents walk away on the high cliff as he lay in the snow, bleeding and broken.

“I made it to a village,” Finn said, his voice colorless. “Took me a day.”

Oh, holy shit. On a broken leg?
Ella clutched the mug tighter. “And the villagers took you in?”

Finn shook his head. “Too dangerous. The Boreals might punish them.”

Motherfuckers
. “Then what?”

“A hunter was passing by. Neith. He took me with him.” Finn stepped back from the window, his face in shadow. “I wasn’t supposed to survive. I told you.” He snorted. “Nobody is looking for me.”

And it wasn’t funny. When Finn finally lifted his head, pain showed through the blankness in his eyes.

She didn’t know when exactly she’d decided she believed his story, but there it was. “So you grew up with this hunter, Neith.”

He nodded. “I was lucky. He treated my leg, took care of me until I could walk. Trained me, taught me what he knew, how to hunt and track in the snow, how to use the snow cars. If it wasn’t for him, I’d never have made it, or got into the army.”

“Why did you? Join the army, I mean.”

“He died.” Finn swallowed. “The winter was bad. Animals and
aelfar
froze to death. I thought the army would be a good idea. Food, clothes. A roof.”

“And was it a good idea?”

“It was the only option,” Finn said.

She got up. She wanted to go to him, but it was as if he was far away, across the Veil. “So you’re at war with the Dark elves?”

“We fight over territories. Hot springs. Mines. Oil and natural gas sources. For centuries now.”

The tension lessened. She took a step toward him, then another. Placed a hand on his arm. “Your tea is growing cold.”

He tilted his head to the side, a furrow forming between his brows. Taking advantage of his confusion, she dragged him back to the couch and placed the mug in his hand. “Are you cold?”

He shook his head. He didn’t protest her fussing, though, and after that goddamn awful story of his childhood it just didn’t feel like it was enough. Nothing could be enough. She shifted closer, put a hand on his knee. It was the bad one; she felt the knee-band under her palm.

He stared at her hand, didn’t move.

“Tell me about the Dark elves,” Ella said. “Dave said they have wings?”

Finn nodded. “They are small, like children, with large eyes. They live underground in huge caves.”

“Like bats?” Again that nervous giggle threatened to break out of her.
Dragons, elves, frigging winged fairies. What next?

“They have advanced technology they never share with us. Centuries ago, when they won the war against us and shut the Gates, they destroyed all our records and took away our tech. It took us a long time to rebuild some of it.”

“And what about the Guardians?”

“
Duergar
. Dwarves, their creators called them, because the early models were short and squat.”

Right, the word was Old Norse.
Dwarves
. “Early models?” That sounded like...

“They’re automatons, filled with wheels and spirals.” He scowled. “And magic.”

Spirals... Oh, god
. If Simon had been observing her and meeting with her as a child, and she had a memory of spirals, could that mean...? “How do you recognize the Guardians? The book says something about a certain angle of looking at them.”

Finn shook his head. “Then you know more than me.”

***

“Let me get this straight,” Mike said, running a hand through his short hair. His neck was bandaged and brown stains of blood had seeped through. “Finn is an elf, and Simon may have been a robot?”

Robot
. “Guardian. More like a magical, partly mechanical being, but yeah. Crazy, huh?”
And so very hard to believe, but...
Ella petted Missy. The kitten purred, curled in her lap. Crazy and damn sad that her friend had been a creature sent to control her movements, and that she hadn’t noticed anything all that time. Or later, when they’d dated.
Go figure
.

“Crazy doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Outside the window, snow flakes swirled prettily.
Huh
. Another snow storm coming? “Dave says Simon kept a diary about me.”

“Jeez, Ella.” Mike snorted, rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m more interested in Finn. An honest-to-God elf? Those ears... they’re real? I was hoping you’d tell me he has a Spock fetish or something.”

Ella bit her lip.

“What about magic?”

“No magic.”

“But he’s...” Mike started to pace, rubbing his chest. “You said the Gates are opening and the elves are about to attack, and you shack up with one of them? Are you out of your damn mind?” He stopped and wagged a finger at her. “Is he dangerous?” He threw his hands in the air. “What am I even asking? Of course he’s dangerous. Shit.” He resumed pacing.

Ella stared after Mike. She thought about Finn, his secrets, the way he fought and the fact that the Shades were after him, and was tempted to say yes, he was dangerous. But that wasn’t it. What Mike was asking was whether Finn would harm him, and her. If Finn was on their side. The humans’ side. “He’s a good guy.”

“Is he, now?” Mike walked to the wall and back, stopped. “Are you sure?”

“He just saved your ass.”

Mike’s face fell. “True.” His eyes went distant and she wondered if he was remembering the dragon and how Finn had fought it. “True. He did save me, and Scott as well.” He sank in an armchair, hands hanging between his knees.

“Mike?”

“Yeah, fine. I believe you.” He sighed. “Apart from being a little trigger-happy, he has been good to me.”

Relief flooded her. “No one can know, right?”

He nodded. “What are you going to do now?”

“No idea. I was hoping you’d heard something from beyond the Veil. Dave, my boss, insists I talk to him. Thing is, I don’t want to tell him about the book. Which is stupid. He’s my squad leader and all the doubts I’ve had about him were because of Simon, and now it turns out Simon isn’t who I thought and—”

“Is that it?” Mike pointed at her bag. The top of the book peeked out. She pulled it out and handed it over.

“I’m trying to find out more about this John Grey figure. It’s tough. For every bit of interesting info there are dozens of pages to wade through. The elves merely keep him apart and say
‘He’s not one of us’
, as if that tells me anything. No talk of his magic, his origins or even his goddamn favorite food.”