Boreal and John Grey Season 1 (36 page)

“Yeah, isn’t it nice?” Mike winked and raised his glass. “To our excellent chef.”

Finn took a sip from his wine. His sharp cheekbones were flushed, whether from the alcohol or the praise, it was hard to tell. He slid his brilliant blue eyes toward her, and she looked hastily away. She put down her fork, appetite suddenly gone.

“Something the matter? Need more salt?” Scott asked.

“It’s not that.” She itched to touch Finn, talk to him, explain how she felt, but couldn’t. Because being together would be a royally bad idea. Finn had to understand that. So should she lie and say she didn’t love him? Or tell him the truth?

Scott raised a brow. “Should we leave you?”

Finn said nothing, mouth tight, and Ella sat back, her heart thumping. She shook her head.

“We can take dessert to go,” Mike added helpfully. “If you guys need to talk. But since it’s your birthday and all...”

 
Birthday?
Ella opened her mouth and then shut it again. “It’s today?”

“Told ya she’d forget all about it.” Mike grinned.

Ella looked from him to Scott. “So this is what the dinner was all about?”

“I told Finn. He offered to cook.” Mike shrugged.

Speechless, she turned to Finn. It was touching and made her feel even more of a creep for letting him think she didn’t trust him. “Thank you.”

She tried to catch his eye, to get a glimpse into his head, but he was staring right ahead at the wall with a frown on his face.
Awkward
.

“Hey,” Mike said, “you dropped something. A piece of paper.”

She scooped it up and unfolded it. “Found it in Simon’s apartment.” She kept glancing at Finn, but the only change in his expression was a narrowing of his eyes. “Does the name Bran Hoodvild ring any bells?”

“You’re kidding me.” Mike took the proffered paper and passed it on to Scott. “Is it even a real name?”

“Sounds kind of Scandinavian.” Scott scratched the back of his neck. “Have you googled it?”

Ella shook her head. “Didn’t get the chance.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Mike said. “Tomorrow, during my lunch break.”

“Thanks, guys,” Ella muttered. “I doubt it’s anyone important, but checking it out will put my mind at ease.”

“Hey, dude.” Scott waved a hand in front of Finn’s face. “Are you with us?”

Finn didn’t react, didn’t even flinch, and worry knotted Ella’s stomach. She reached out for him. “Finn?”

His chair screeched and he stood, drawing his Bowie knives. “Get down.”

And the room exploded into movement and flashes.

Shades
.

Mouth gaping, Mike tilted backward in his chair as a tusked goblin jumped on the table, scattering the half-empty dishes. Its clawed hands reached for Ella, but she drew her knives and slashed its leathery arm, severing it at the wrist. The iron touch sent the creature into a paroxysm, limbs thrashing, until it vanished in a puff of smoke.

Then they were swarming all over them, spindle-legged goblins with green skin and protruding fangs, wicked claws that cut through wood and plastic.

“Mike!” Ella kicked a goblin in the shin and stabbed at its midsection, then ducked under the fist of another and crouched next to him. He was still on his back where he’d fallen, his face white as paper. “Sit up,” she hissed and pushed one of her iron knives into his hand. “Use this.”

Where was Scott? Helping Mike to his feet, she found herself airborne, lifted in gnarled hands, sharp nails slicing her skin. She kicked and twisted, her knife swishing in small arches, and cut deeply into the goblin’s arm. It shrieked and shook her back and forth before it fizzled out, letting her drop.

She rolled, only barely avoiding the claws of another goblin. Where was Finn? She hadn’t heard his voice since the attack began. Her chest too tight to breathe, she shot to her feet and spun around. “Finn!”

There was a mass of heaving bodies on the other side of the table, mottled hides and patterned limbs rising and falling like a sea.
What the hell?

“Help Scott!” Mike cried from behind and she wished she had her damn gun on her. A huge goblin had Scott in a solid grip around the neck and held him dangling in the air. Scott’s face was turning dark purple.

“I thought trolls were the ones who liked this sort of thing,” Ella grumbled as she sprinted across the room, letting one of her knives fly. It hit the goblin in the side and the creature wavered as it retreated, letting a barely conscious Scott fall at Mike’s feet.

“Oh Jesus,” Mike muttered, his knees hitting the floor. “He’s alive.”

“Good,” Ella breathed. “Protect him.”

Mike nodded, and she turned her attention back to the mass of bodies. They’d moved closer to the far wall, where the darkness bent and distorted in ever changing patterns.

And Finn?

Something pale among the bodies caught her eye. Christ, they had him! And the Veil was parting, ready to take them all away, somewhere she couldn’t find him again.

With a savage cry, she threw herself at the goblins, slashing with her knife and smashing her fist into armored skin, kicking and shoving between them to reach Finn. Blood dripped from her hand, slicking the grip on the blade, but she just held it tighter and stabbed a goblin in the arm. They didn’t seem to notice her, all their focus on getting Finn into the Grey.

Her pulse drumming in her ears, Ella rammed a goblin in the face with the hilt of her knife, then twisted and cut into another’s neck, ichor fountaining, drenching her.

“Finn!” She ducked under a goblin’s arm and stabbed backward, hearing the fizzle behind her. “Answer me!” Her voice was rising. Panic, she thought dimly. Fear constricting her throat, cutting off her breath. Why wasn’t he answering?

Another swipe of her knife, another stab and slash, and finally there he was, hanging limp between two goblins, their feet raised to enter the writhing mist of the Veil.

“No!” She jumped on the back of one of them and stabbed her knife into its thick neck, then slid down and shoved the blade into the other one. They screeched and wavered, fading to nothing.

Finn’s limp body thumped to the floor.

The breath went out of her and she dropped to her knees by his side. The quiet unrolled like a mist, stuffing her ears. Nothing moved. She’d felled a whole platoon of Shades, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered — because Finn wasn’t breathing.

Something like a sob left her throat, leaving it raw and aching. She gulped in more air and sat up.
Get yourself together, Ella
. She’d taken first aid courses at work.
You know what to do
.

His pulse jumped under her fingertips, under the warm skin of his throat. His heart beat, so she’d perform rescue breathing.

Easy
.

Swallowing hard, throat dry as a desert, she bent over him and covered his lips with her mouth. This was wrong. Finn should be kissing her back, Finn should be...

She breathed into him, checked if his chest rose.
Focus
. Breathed again, watched his lungs fill and empty. She checked his pulse. Steady. Strong.
Come on, Finn
. She breathed into him again, and again.
Come on!
“You promised,” she wheezed. “No dying.”

She blew more air between his lips. “You promised. Please.” Her heart banged against her ribs. Her hands shook. “Finn, wake up!”

Finn gasped, his back arching. He coughed, then curled on his side, panting, and Ella bent her head, struggling with stupid tears.
Oh god
.

She drew back, giving him space. Pools of ichor spread around them. Finn was covered in the stuff, and she wasn’t much better.

Blindly he reached for her hand, and she let him take it, squeezed his strong fingers in hers reassuringly. “You’re okay,” she said, her voice close to breaking. “You’re all right.”

His eyes opened and focused on her. He touched two fingers to his chest. Was that his way of saying thank you?

“Finn...” So much she wanted to say, but the words caught in her throat.
This is why you can’t be with him
, she thought.
Because the other side is pulling him and he’ll either return to his world, or die
.

Slowly she withdrew her hand and turned away.

Chapter Three

Falling

Sarah wore a black skirt with tassels on the hem. They flounced as she moved around the living room. “So the Shades just come and go as they please?” She checked under the sofa cushions, as if expecting to find an answer to the tearing of the Veil right there, in Ella’s apartment. “Despite all the charms I saw on the doors and windows and every single free surface?”

“That was a rhetorical question, right?” Ella had been scrubbing the ichor and blood off the floor since early morning. What a birthday. Better if she never celebrated it again, ever.

Add to that the fact she’d barely slept a wink all night, Finn’s still face flashing in front of her eyes like a broken movie. Then she’d panic and get up, unable to breathe, until she convinced herself he was fine.

Scott was in hospital. His windpipe had almost been crushed and he had a concussion which the doctors were monitoring. Not everyone withstood being choked to death and smashed into walls repeatedly like Finn.

Which made her wonder how hard Finn had been hit to stop breathing.

She shuddered, the memory overlaying her thoughts and darkening her vision. Yeah, that was exactly why she couldn’t be with him.

“I’d sleep with my gun under my pillow if I were you,” Sarah said. “On an iron bed. With iron chairs all around. Something like that.”

Not such a bad idea
.

“Where’s Finn?” Sarah checked under the coffee table.

Would she stop doing that?

A throat being cleared had them both turning to the kitchen door. Finn stood there, arms folded over his chest, lounging against the doorframe. Quiet like a cat, that man. Elf. Whatever.

Her heart thumped so loudly it covered all other sound. He was a little pallid, and worry made her want to walk over and check him, maybe bully him into bed, feed him soup and tea.

Goddammit, stop it
. She forced herself to look away. 

“I wish I could hear what the Shades talk about, for clues on how they got in.” Sarah sank on the couch, crossing her legs. She wore knee length boots, high-heeled of course, and a red coat. “But I can’t complain. I haven’t been alone in my head in a long time. The silence is... refreshing. Lets me think more clearly.”

Ella wished she could say the same for herself. She rose and went to wash her hands in the bathroom. When she returned, she found Sarah smoking a slim cigarette. The scent of fresh tobacco hung in the air, aromatic. It reminded Ella of her father and of calm Sunday afternoons in the garden.

Rattled, she sat across from the other woman, stealing glances at Finn who hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway.

“Let me see the paper you got from Simon’s place again,” Sarah said. No-nonsense, right to the point. “It was a strange name.”

“Only if you tell us what you know about John Grey and the Gates,” Ella countered, holding up the piece of paper between index and middle finger, dangling it like a carrot. A glance showed her Finn’s expression caught between a dark glare and amusement.

“If I knew anything worth knowing, I’d be out there trying to stop the invasion from happening,” Sarah muttered. “We both suspect Dave of working for the enemy, one way or another. Give me what you’ve got and I’ll work on it.”

Ella sighed. That woman sounded so sure of herself. She pushed the piece of paper across the coffee table. “Let’s hear your ideas.”

Sarah flipped the paper over and over between nimble fingers. Her nails were painted crimson. “Bran Hoodvild. This looks like...” She frowned. “Have you got a pen?”

Ella threw her one. “What does it look like?”

Sarah sucked her bottom lip between white teeth. When she released it, they were smeared in red. “Like an anagram. And I think I know which name it fits.” She smirked. “Working for a super secret organization means I’ve got some practice with this sort of stuff.”

An anagram
. “You’re not saying...” Ella sat forward in her seat. From the corner of her eye, she saw Finn take a step into the room. “An anagram for John Grey?”

“Nope.” Sarah scribbled something below the name and placed the paper on the table. “There. I knew it.”

David Holborn. Dave.
Shit
. Ella frowned. “Simon had been investigating Dave?”

“And you’re the only person Simon wanted to share it with.” There was only the tiniest trace of bitterness in Sarah’s voice. “In any case, I was right. David is John Grey.”

“I’m not sure.” Ella took a deep breath, and of course Finn’s sweet spice filled her senses. “We suspect Dave of being a Guardian, a half-mechanical being created by the Dark elves to protect the Gates, gone rogue.”

Sarah whistled. “And here I thought I’d shocked you by suggesting he’s John Grey. What makes you think he’s a Guardian?”

“He was in a photo with me as a baby.”

“Maybe he ages well.”

“He doesn’t eat or sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

Ella sighed. Was she? “Bear with me. If Guardians are half-machines, it does sound like they don’t die, doesn’t it?” She looked to Finn for confirmation, and he shrugged.

“Makes sense to me,” Sarah said. “The Dark elves would want to leave them on a world to guard the Gates after they closed them, if they couldn’t send replacements.”

“Right. Now...” Ella rubbed her nose. “If a person is around for too long, someone might get suspicious, right? They would have to change their name every so often. What if the anagram is one of the names Dave used in the past?”

Sarah snorted. “But why would he keep the same letters?”

Robots. Machines. Letters
. “Some sort of code? Maybe they need to keep the letters so their masters can find them when and if they return?”

Sarah frowned. “A little far-fetched, isn’t it?”

“You think? More than everything else we’ve encountered?” Ella shook her head, her ponytail whipping her neck. “How else do you explain the fact that Simon hid for me a piece of paper with a name that turns out to be an anagram of David Holborn?”

Sarah toyed with the tassels of her skirt and chewed on a ruby-painted lip. Ella held her breath.

The silence stretched. She glanced at Finn, caught him staring at her. He looked away with a scowl.

“Okay, I’ll play,” Sarah said.

Ella slumped back in her seat. “Good.”

“If you’re right and he’s been here for a while, and if this is a name he’s used, I’ll find out what I can about him,” Sarah said. Her green eyes gleamed under her dark fringe. “You can count on me.”

“Glad to be on the same side,” Ella muttered. Truth be told, with the Shades closing around them, and Mike and Scott out for the count, it felt good to have one more ally.

***

Trees laden with snow lined the lake shore — trees unlike any Ella had ever seen. With their branches twisted and woven together, the trees rose like solid cones dusted with white toward the grey sky. The lake was still — too still. Frozen. A gust of wind sent snow swirling over its surface.

A howl sounded from the hills. Then another, from much closer.

Ella turned and started to run. Her leather boots sank in the snow that came up to her knees, slowing her. Her heart thumped an irregular beat inside her chest and her mouth was dry with fear. The weapons she carried hampered her progress — the long knives hanging from her belt, the bow and the quiver full of arrows slung over her shoulders.

A tall figure of a man stood on a rising of the land, beckoning urgently, and she knew she had to reach him, but her legs felt unaccountably short and stabs of pain went through her knee with every struggling step.

A growl sounded behind her, and she yelped, falling into the snow. A scream built up in her throat as something stepped closer and a stench of fur and blood washed over her. Pain shot down her chest, her stomach.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came. She couldn’t breathe. Turning, she tried to get up but her body was frozen. She struggled against the numbness.

And fell.

She cried out, her jaw finally unlocked, as her back hit the hard ground, jarring every bone in her body. Scrambling backward, she tried to see around but it was dark and she thought she still smelled the wolf, acrid and coppery sweet. Her chest ached dully, a ghost of pain. She kept moving — where were her weapons, her knives? — until she hit a solid surface and pressed her back to it.

She was unarmed and alone and—

A creak sounded. Light flooded the dark, blinding her. She raised a hand to shield her eyes.

“Ella?” said a familiar male voice and a broad-shouldered silhouette filled the doorway, blocking the source of light. Backlit, his hair formed a silver halo around his head.

Finn
. She wanted to say his name but her throat hurt as if she’d been screaming and... it didn’t make sense. She looked around. Faintly illuminated, her room appeared around her — her bed, her bedside table, the chair with her clothes thrown haphazardly over it. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Just a dream
.

Finn stepped into the room, his face in shadow. “Are you okay?”

She was huddled in the corner, trembling, cowering like an animal.
Jesus
. She placed her hands on the wall behind her and pushed to her feet.

Her knee buckled and she slid back down.

Finn snarled something and strode over to her, knelt by her side. He caught her hands in his. “What happened?”

“Nightmare,” she rasped.

“Your leg?”

“An old fracture.” Picked the time to act up, too.

He lifted her easily to her feet, wrapped an arm around her and held her for a moment against his cotton-clad chest —
so warm, his heartbeat thumping through her, soothing
— and led her to the bed. She sat, trying to gather her wits while he drew away.

“Finn?” she whispered. She wanted to hold him close, but didn’t dare move.

“
Daudr
,” he breathed, or something like it.

She didn’t know the word. “Why do you keep speaking in old Norse?” She clenched her hands not to reach for him. “Why not Elvish?”

He glanced at her, an undecipherable look, quickly averted. His shoulders stiffened more, until he was hunched over. “That’s the Boreals’ first language. In case we returned to this world.”