Boreal and John Grey Season 2 (29 page)

Diane’s mouth flapped and she got up so fast her chair knocked back against the wall. “Oh my god, he’s frigging bleeding! What should I do?”

Okay, damage control.

The stain didn’t seem to be getting bigger. Finn’s face was tight — with pain or anger? Probably both. Yet he didn’t seem about to pass out.

All things considered, not too bad.

“Find a medic kit,” Ella said while Dave’s phone rang and rang. “We need bandages.”

That was it, keep a cool head, though there was nothing she could do about the way her heart raced with fear.

And Dave still wasn’t answering. “Leave the medic kit,” Ella said, turning to Diane who was going through her drawers, her lower lip quavering. “Call Mr. Holborn immediately.”

He wouldn’t dare not answer the phone of his own office.

***

Dave did answer and Ella grabbed the receiver. “Where’s the dragon? Someone’s hurting her, and hurting Finn.”

“Ella, is that you?”

“Yeah, who do you think?”

A pause met her words, then Dave’s voice came jagged, and she realized he was running. “Is Finn okay?”

“Don’t worry, Dave, your precious tool is still alive, but you’d better make sure the dragon survives.”

“So the bond is still active.”

No shit.

“I’ll take care of it,” Dave bit out. “Go home and be careful. Jeff has not come in today. I hope you have your Kevlars.”

Ella sucked a sharp breath.

Finn grabbed the phone out of her hand and she was too stunned to react. “You said you’d protect the dragon,
Duergr
,” he breathed, his body shaking with tension. “You swore.”

He slammed the receiver down.

Diane whimpered.

“We’re going home,” Ella told her.

“But the medic kit...?”

“I’ve got one in the car.”

Finn was already moving toward the elevators and she followed him. The Kevlar vests were in the car, too. The snow was packed and slippery as they hurried out of the building across the street, exposed to any attack. Her skin prickled.

They made it inside unscathed. She started the engine after the first two tries and waited for it to warm up, fishing for the Kevlars that were stacked on the back seat.

Finn dragged his on, and she got a glimpse of the blood on his chest and hip before he did. It didn’t seem to be spreading. Thank god for small mercies.

She pulled off the curb and did a highly illegal u-turn in the avenue, heading home.

Jefferson
. Jeff. Why, goddammit?
Hadn’t the Feds been informed they weren’t supposed to kill Finn? Could it be they didn’t find the reasons convincing?

Damn you, Jeff. If it’s you, I hope you rot in hell.

Could Dave stop him? Could the Organization beat the FBI?

“Ella. Ella!” Finn’s voice, hoarse and tinged with fear.

“What?” How long had he been calling her name?

Finn’s hand smacked into the glass, cracking it, and she stepped on the brake.

An impact and a crash.

The belt cut into her chest, pushing all the air out of her lungs. She slumped, trying to breathe, vaguely aware the crash hadn’t been that bad — the airbags hadn’t deployed.

Had it been the sniper? Were they hit?

Movement and scratching from her left drew her attention. She turned to see something huge looming outside Finn’s door.

The door was torn away as if made of paper and claws grabbed Finn, hauling him out. He kicked and twisted, fighting the hold, but more claws descended on him and he was out and gone.

“No!” Ella fumbled with her seat belt, cursing. “Hell, no.” At last she was free and she drew her gun as she threw the door open and jumped out. “Hey!”

Ettin — and goblins. What, had the whole village shown up? They held Finn’s limbs, carrying him like a hunted animal. A tentacle-like appendage was wrapped around his arm. Was that a sting at its end?

“Let him go!” She aimed down her gun, her hands shaking. “Now.”

She took shot after shot, her ears ringing with the noise. The monstrous creatures barely seemed to notice the bullets thudding into their flesh. They kept backing away, toward a tall building — a bank — and their forms began to warp out of shape. A curve in the air, bending the building backward.

A Veil rip.

Holstering her gun, she broke into a run.

The two goblins turned toward her, as if noticing her for the first time. So they were the rearguard, safeguarding the exit of the Ettin with Finn.

She let the first knife fly before she was even sure she had a target, and it caught the goblin charging her on the leg. She was running as she let go of the second knife. Ducking under the fizzling goblin’s arm, she saw the second goblin stumble, her blade sticking out of its rock-like chest, and it shrieked as it returned to the Grey.

“Finn!”

The Ettin had let go of his legs, letting them drag on the asphalt, and were hauling him away, face down.

“Stop!” She pulled out her knives. “Finn, delay them!”

But strangely, Finn’s struggling had slowed, his head rolling forward. What the hell was going on?

She stumbled to a stop. The tentacle with the sting.
Ettin poison.
They’d paralyzed him.

Fury shook her. Threads trembled around her, golden, silver, crimson and blue as she set off again.

Nobody was taking Finn away. No way in hell.

Reaching behind her back, she drew her shuriken. A good thing she was always ready for hell.

The Ettin dragging Finn were almost inside the Veil by now, their long tails lashing at the sidewalk, and she gritted her teeth, balancing the shuriken in her hands. She threw them, one after the other, into the two Ettin’s backs and launched herself at them with a cry.

One of the Ettin jerked and stopped. She jumped on its tail, wrapped her hands around spines jutting out of its spine and climbed up. Her shuriken stuck out of the Ettin’s leathery shoulder and she tried to pull it out. When that didn’t work, she climbed higher and stepped on it, pushing it deeper.

At least all movement forward had stopped. The rippling in the air was way too close — a breath away.

The Ettin under her growled and turned, but she clung to its back, the spines slicing into her hands, the pain a distant sensation. Her heart pounded; she practically felt the blood pumping in her veins, burning hot.

The creature shook, its plated skin rattling, but it was losing substance.
That’s what you get for traveling through the Veil, you bastard.
Ella braced her booted feet on either side of the creature, holding on as it began to waver — then remembered what came next.

She jumped off, rolling on the asphalt, and ow, she left a good stretch of skin there.

The Ettin exploded in fire and flames.

No time to even think. The other Ettin was still standing, pulling Finn the last couple of feet toward the rip.

No weapons left. But the threads quavered, singing — calling. The dark golden threads; her own.

You can do this. You have to.

Reaching up, she stroked them, murmured to them, not sure what would happen — thinking of shaking the world, throwing the Ettin off its feet.

She pushed.

The ground groaned and the car shuddered, its doors rattling.

The remaining Ettin stopped, the rip in the Veil expanding like a gaping mouth, then thinning.

Now.

She scrambled to her feet and kicked dirt as she slid to the ground, scraping her knees, barely managing to grab Finn’s legs. Reaching up, she pulled a knife from Finn’s belt — one of her own he’d borrowed — and stabbed it into the Ettin’s thick tail.

The Ettin shrieked. The hold on Finn grew slacker and Ella gritted her teeth as she pulled on his legs, hauling him backward. She was aware of moments trickling by, of the creature turning, its muzzle dripping fire, its tail lashing — and found a man in a grey suit and tie standing in front of her, his eyes big as saucers, a suitcase in his hand.

Shit.

The Ettin had begun to fizzle, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She jumped to her feet and stood behind its hulking form and Finn. “You’re not taking him.”

The creature let out a long-drawn whine and its clawed feet clicked on the concrete of the sidewalk. A flame belched out of its maw and then it fell backward, into the Veil. The rip swallowed the Ettin so hungrily Ella half expected a burp.

“Ugly motherfucker.” Ella wiped a hand over her mouth, panting. “Burn in hell.”

The threads whined, still thrumming, making her skin crawl.

She turned to find Finn lying on his back on the sidewalk, the man in the suit bent over him.

“Is he alive?” she asked, her heart thumping hard.

The man looked up, his eyes still wide. “Yes,” he said.

He spoke more words, but Ella couldn’t hear. She shoved him aside and dropped to her knees at Finn’s side. Pain in her hands reminded her she’d hurt them on the Ettin’s spines.

“Finn.” She shook him until his eyes fluttered open. Half his face was bloody; a gash at his hairline was still bleeding. “What should I do? What do you need?”

His lips moved. “I remember.”

She shook her head, trying to get rid of the pounding pulse ricocheting inside her skull. “What?”

“I remember the gun. Glamr. That’s its name.” Finn’s breathing came in short gasps.

“Okay. Just breathe, Finn. You’ll be okay.” She bent over, sick with worry. “We’re going home.”

Somehow.

Chapter Six

Fail

Mike wasn’t answering his cell. Which was odd.

But Scott did. He arrived in his pick-up truck, his boyish face screwed up in a deep frown. Mike was apparently out of town in a meeting and couldn’t make it.

Huh.
She had no idea Mike had out of town meetings. And why wouldn’t he answer the phone?

Someone had called an ambulance and she was glad to have the cuts in her palms cleaned and wrapped up; grateful for the painkillers.

As for Finn, he could move already. Looked like his Kevlar vest had prevented the Ettin from injecting much poison. Who knew Kevlar had such uses. She should tell Jefferson.

Jefferson
. Quite possibly the enemy
. The thought brought a bitter taste to her mouth.

Scott had sat Finn inside his pick-up and was fending off the paramedics. Good thing her friends still had brain function, unlike her. She felt she was wading through molasses, everything going in slow motion. Too many fights, too many tangents; too many unknowns. It boggled her mind.

Find the tangle; find the snare. Fix the magic.

Yeah, Dave. Piece of cake.

At least no more wounds had appeared on Finn, which had to mean the dragon was now safe. Fingers and toes crossed. One thing less to worry about.

She dialed Dave’s number, and again he didn’t answer. What was up with that? Did he think she’d chew his leg off for planting the tracker in Finn’s leg? She needed to know how to take it out — and why did he keep denying he planted the transmitter in his shoulder? Really, come on — who else had elven tech at a hand’s reach and the opportunity to insert it? 

Two women approached her. She recognized them vaguely as Bureau agents. They said they’d received a call from a hysterical passerby reporting flashing lights and a man being dragged in the street by beings made of fire. A low level voyant, probably.

Ella gave them a brief report and in return they promised to see that her car door was fixed and the car returned to her address.

The Bureau sometimes had nice tricks up its sleeve for its employees. Sadly the money would be taken out of her salary, but she’d worry about that later.

Ella thanked them and returned to Scott’s pick-up to find him arguing with a paramedic.

“There’s blood on him,” the paramedic was saying, gesturing at Finn who leaned back in the passenger seat, a hand on his shoulder where the mark was. “He was lying in the street when we arrived and—”

“He’s fine,” Scott said and patted Finn’s arm through the open window.

“He’ll have to sign a treatment waiver.”

“Pass it over.”

Ella climbed into the back seat as Finn scrawled something that looked more like a map of the city rather than a signature. The paramedic took it without a word and hurried away.

Wow.
Finn’s glower had to be breathtaking.

Ella almost felt sorry for the guy, but the painkillers were kicking in and her muscles were relaxing. She slumped back as Scott slid behind the wheel.

The car rolled into the traffic, leaving the strobing lights of the ambulance behind.

“Didn’t know Mike was out of town,” Ella muttered, because it bothered her that Mike had never mentioned it. His boss rarely sent him further than the suburbs. “Whose books is he checking today?”

Scott took a moment to answer. “I don’t know.”

And Ella knew he was lying. It set off all sorts of alarms in her head. She couldn’t help it, not after learning Jefferson was Finn’s wannabe murderer — at least it looked that way — and that Simon was FBI. Too much — the shock of handling the threads and defeating the Ettin; the worry about the poison in Finn’s blood, because Finn would act like he was fine even if he was drawing his last breath.

Her hands fisted at her sides.

Scott remained silent during the rest of the ride, which was unlike him, and it wasn’t helping the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

He parked right outside the building entrance and went around the car to help Finn out. Which turned out to be a good idea as, despite the cool front, Finn leaned so heavily against Scott it was a miracle he was still standing. Stubbornness could only take him that far as his body fought the paralyzing poison.

Finn said nothing when Ella put his arm around her shoulders and nodded at Scott. Together they half-carried him to the elevator, his feet dragging, and then to the apartment door. She had to pull away to work the tricky lock with her key until it opened, leaving Scott to maneuver him inside. He deposited Finn on the sofa, then proceeded to kneel and work Finn’s boots off.

She unclipped her holster and put it on the corner table, then wandered to the sofa and sank down on the cushions by Finn’s side.

Dear god.
He was sprawled back and looked like death warmed over, bloodied and pale.

Just another day in the life of John Grey.

Scott left to find the medic-kit, and when he returned, he passed her a wet gauze. She wiped the blood off Finn’s forehead and cheek, and stuck a Band-Aid over the cut in his hair line. Finn’s gaze rested on her face, bright.

“Are you okay?” Scott then started on Finn’s Kevlar vest, loosening the straps. “You two need anything?”

Finn didn’t seem to even notice. Under the vest, his sweater was stained with blood, and Scott wrinkled his nose.

Ella sniffed herself and gagged. Blood, sweat and general sourness.

Time to clean up. Dredge up some energy first from somewhere. There were those pistachios in the kitchen cupboard. Hell, she’d drink the barbecue sauce from the bottle. Who knew using magic made one so hungry?

Scott tried to lift Finn’s sweater to check where the blood came from, and Finn’s fingers clamped around his wrist, stopping him.

“Just making sure you’re not still bleeding, man.”

“I’m fine,” Finn muttered.

“At least let me help you to bed. Ella said you got some sort of paralytic in your bloodstream.” He threw her a questioning look. “Shouldn’t he see a doctor? I know he’s an elf and super macho and stuff, but still...”

“I can move,” Finn said and that, apparently, was the end of the discussion for him.

Ella drew a deep breath and almost gagged again. “We’re great, thanks, Scott. Honest. Thanks for coming for us.”

Scott got up, frowning. He shuffled his feet, sticking his hands into his pockets. “Are you sure? I should get back to work, but I don’t want to leave you guys like that.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “I could make you something to eat first.”

“With what? There’s nothing to cook with.”

“That, um, isn’t true. There’s bread and ham and tomatoes, and Mike brought over some oatmeal and milk and stuff because you once told him Finn likes it, so...”

Oh god, could one self-combust with embarrassment? She picked at the bandages wrapped around her hands. “You filled our cupboards?”

Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “Mike said you can pay him later, if you want.”

“Damn right I will.”

Scott nodded and left quickly, closing the door hard behind him.

She really didn’t deserve friends like that. Though she still wondered where Mike was and why Scott wouldn’t tell her.

Awh fuck it.
“I’ll make oatmeal.” She stood up and headed to the kitchen, feeling Finn’s gaze on her back like a flare of fire.

***

It was much later. Night had fallen, and the doorbell was ringing.

Fucked-up timing, as always. And she hadn’t even had the chance to talk to Finn who’d been dozing on the sofa about what had happened — the threads and how she’d manipulated them.

Ella grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower, dripping all over the tiles. She’d used waterproof Band-aids on the cuts in her palms but maybe she should change them.

The doorbell rang again.

“Just a second!” She tiptoed to the bedroom to grab her clothes and pulled them on in record speed. She burst into the living room just in time.

Finn was half-way up, holding onto the sofa for balance, his gun in his other hand. Figured he wouldn’t sit back, not even when his legs shook and his hand trembled. Yeah, maybe it took a lot of Ettin blood to bring him down, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t affecting him.

“Calm down,” she said, crossing the room. “Maybe it’s Mike or Scott, come to check on you.”

The peephole showed her an empty corridor, which made her frown, but then a blond head entered her field of vision and she swallowed a sigh.

She opened the door. “Mom. What are you doing here?”

“You won’t answer my phone calls or messages. What’s a mother to do?”

Ah, melodrama.
Linda was in her element. She patted her perfect retro blond waves a la Marilyn as she stepped inside, her heels clicking on the floor. She wore a knee-length pencil skirt and a grey button-down blouse, looking as if she’d just stepped out of a Hollywood Fifties movie set. Her red lipstick was blinding.

“Look, Mom, this isn’t a good time. Finn’s been under the weather and—”

Linda paled and took a step back.

Curious, Ella turned.
Ah, right.
Finn had the gun trained on Linda, his gaze laser-sharp and focused. The effect was sort of spoiled by the fact tremors went through his body and the gun kept dipping — but Linda probably didn’t notice such details.

Couldn’t really blame her.

Ella approached Finn carefully, keeping her movements slow and smooth. She circled him, and his gaze flicked in her direction. “Put down the gun,” she said, hardening her voice. “Now, Finn.”

He frowned. His hands lowered, shaking so badly she lunged for the gun before he dropped it. She pushed him back and he wind-milled, falling back on the sofa with a gasp. He lay wide-eyed, his face a mask of shock.

Sorry, babe.
“As I was saying...”

“Scott, Mike’s nice room mate, said Finn was hurt,” Linda blurted, wringing her hands together. “I thought you might need help taking care of him.”

Whoa, had she gotten over the shock of having a gun pointed at her already? And hadn’t she noticed Finn wasn’t laid out, waiting to be spoon-fed? Okay, that was because he was a tough, stubborn fucker, but still. The gun? The glare? Hadn’t she paid any attention?

“I’m fine, mom, really. Finn’s okay, he’s just—”

Linda moved surprisingly fast for someone in such high heels and such a narrow skirt. Ella gaped as her mother slid right next to Finn and grabbed his hands.

What. The. Hell.

“Finn, honey, how’re you feeling?” Linda batted her mascara-laden lashes and leaned closer, peering into Finn’s face. “Your hands are so cold. Ella, could you bring that blanket over?”

Ella held her breath, waiting for Finn to deck her mother, or at least shove her out of his personal space. Waited for the glare to fall into place, for his lips to peel back.

Nothing happened. Finn gave a slow blink, looked down at his hands held in Linda’s smaller ones, and didn’t move a muscle.

Maybe the paralytic was finally working?

“Ella. The blanket.” Linda let go of Finn’s hands and bent over to rummage in her large bag. “I’ve brought the ingredients to make a soup. It’ll warm you up.”

Ella couldn’t move. She felt as if she’d stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone. Linda was going to make a soup? “You can cook?”

Linda’s penciled brows drew together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ella shrugged and went to retrieve the blanket from the armchair. She brought it over, shook it out and draped it over Finn’s legs. His stillness was unnerving her.

“Sit with him,” her mother said. “He’s always so relaxed around you.” She grabbed her bag. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Okay.” Ella sank on the sofa next to Finn, feeling her eyes go round. “Who are you and what have you done with my mom?”

Linda sighed. “I took care of you when you were sick. I raised you. You loved soup. I used to make you a tomato and cheese one, it was your favorite. Have you forgotten?”

A warm hand on her cheek, a smile, steaming bowls of soup, her father’s happy laughter... She
had
forgotten. Ella bit her lip. “Why now?”

Linda stopped on her way to the kitchen. She didn’t turn as she said, “You need me now. We may not always get along, but you’re my daughter and I love you.” She’d reached the kitchen door when she said, “And Finn’s a cutie.”

But by then Ella was hardly paying attention. Her eyes had filled up and she could hardly see.

Finn reached up, touching her face. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s...?” She sputtered. “Why did you let her... How did you...?” She sniffled. “Why didn’t you push her off like last time?”

His expression grew dark. “Did you want me to?”