Boreal and John Grey Season 2 (8 page)

If only everything in the world was fixed so easily.

***

Ella sat in their living-room with a cold pack pressed to her chest, right over her right breast. The pack was a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel. Since Finn had moved in with her, the freezer was full of stuff. Made her wonder if Finn found the concept fascinating or if he was used to storing food in ice.

It wouldn’t surprise her.

There was so much she wanted to ask, to learn about him and Aelfheim, but now...

Shaking her head, she leaned back and blinked at the ceiling. She didn’t know how to do this. How to accept things with Finn would be different from now on.

Didn’t know if she could.

See, falling in love so soon was a bad idea, and you knew it, Ella.

God.
Would she ever learn?

Something rattled in front of her and she started.

Finn was standing not five feet away, looking at her. Damn elf, making no sound when he walked about.

He’d placed a steaming cup on the table in front of her. The aroma of freshly-brewed tea reached her, soothing.

“Thanks,” she whispered, putting down the cold pack and wrapping her fingers around the cup, realizing how cold she was.

Finn observed her, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, his eyes uncertain.

Good.
Let him be uncertain for once. She was done flailing about, not knowing what to do. She blew on the tea, her throat tight.

“Ella...” He swallowed. “Take a shower with me.”

Ella gaped. God, she really was going to punch him. “I’m not in the mood, okay? Just got shot and all that.” 

Finn flinched. He took a step back. “Please.”

“No.”
Dammit, Finn.
“Take your shower. I want to be alone.”

He waited for a few heartbeats, his mouth a thin line. Then he nodded, a jerky dip of his chin, turned on his heel and strode out of the room.

Shit.
Why did she feel like the bad guy now? He was the one who’d shut her out and wouldn’t even explain why.

She put the tea back on the table, amazed she hadn’t spilled it. All this made no sense. Finn had opened up with her, even with Mike. He’d shared every terrible detail of his childhood with her, and although he’d probably had no say in the matter, he’d seemed relieved to find her in his dream-memories. Had drawn strength from it and then—

A crash came from the bathroom. She was pretty sure it was the bathroom.

Heart in her throat, she shot to her feet.

Now it was too quiet.

Sweat slicked her palms as she stepped out of the living-room, listening for any other sound, and pushed the bathroom door open.

The mirror was cracked, shards glinting on the sink. Golden lines filled the room, criss-crossing space. They flickered and dimmed as she watched.

The Veil
, she thought, blinking her watering eyes. She reached for her knives. Goddammit, the Veil was tearing right in front of her.

Where was Finn? She was as good as blind in the brilliance. She took another step, cursing. The threads quavered, screeching like electric wires, sending an ache through her teeth.

The sound rose higher and higher, a gale, a cacophony that pressed into her eardrums. She kept her hands on the handles of her daggers, not sure which way to turn — caught in the golden web.

She lifted a hand to shade her eyes and squinted into the radiance, her heart pounding madly. “Finn?”

The light dwindled. One by one the lines faded with a final sparkle that left white afterimages branded on the back of her eyelids.

When she could see again, she found Finn kneeling in the middle of the floor, blood dripping from his nose, coating his chin in crimson, soaking his white t-shirt. Light danced on his skin, lines flickering and flashing.

Oh god.
She dropped to her knees next to him, put her arm around his back.

“It’s closed,” he said, panting. “It’s done.”

“But it almost opened and you could have been—”

“I won’t let it open,” he hissed. 

 “But Finn, you—”

He grabbed her neck and crashed their lips together. Stunned, she let him, feeling the heat of his skin, inhaling his spicy-sweet scent.

He pulled back, pressed his forehead to hers. His skin was hot, feverish. His skin glowed.

“Shower,” he whispered.

He was covered in blood and shaking. This time she didn’t hesitate. She helped him get rid of the bloodied shirt and hauled him to his feet, then leaned over to start the shower running. Waiting for the water to warm up, she helped him out of his pants, a cold pit in her stomach.

The Veil had almost torn, right there, in their apartment. He’d barely held it shut, and would that mean he couldn’t close the Gates anymore? And why was he bleeding?

Finn fisted a hand in her blouse. “Shower. With me.”

Might be a good idea, the way he weaved on his feet. Swallowing hard, she shed her clothes quickly, pushed him under the spray and followed.

The warm water drenched her instantly. She’d barely pushed her soaking hair out of her eyes when Finn turned and slid her arms around her, pressing their bodies together.

Caught by surprise, she struggled to free herself. “Finn, what are you doing?”

His hold tightened. “Sh.” His lips brushed her ear, velvet soft, and she trembled. “Listen to me.”

Oh that was rich. “I’ve been doing that all along, Finn, you’re the one who’s not talking.”

“I know.” His low, rough voice sent tingles down her spine. “I’m sorry. I hope here it’s safe.”

She stilled. “Safe?”

His hand rubbed down her back. He nuzzled her neck. “The water’s loud. It may cover the sound of my voice.”

What. The. Hell.
“I’m listening.”

He exhaled, his breath warm on her wet skin. “I think Dave’s listening, too.”

Shit.
“A bug?” She frowned. “In the apartment?”

“On me.”

“You’re naked. We both are.” Heat licked her face. She was pressed against his hard chest and other parts of his anatomy, and it felt good. She’d missed him.

“He’s tracking me.”

She tried to follow his thinking. “Wait... Is that how he found you and the dragon?”

“Dragons ridden by the Boreals use camouflage,” Finn murmured. “Nobody should be able to see us. He found us then, and tonight again.”

It made sense. Too much sense. “Still, you can’t know...”

A fast learner.
Finn was a fast learner. Dave had repeated Finn’s words to her in his car.

Ella groaned. What else had Dave told Finn to convince him there was a bug on him?

“I don’t know where the transmitter is,” Finn whispered, as if reading her thoughts, the words brushing her ear. “Can’t take the risk. And I have to tell you what’s going on.”

She nodded, the relief almost sending her back to her knees. “Yes.”

“The Veil was a barrier and a wasteland of spirits. Now it’s changing. A protective spell has broken, letting magic leak through.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means I may not be able to protect this world for much longer, not unless I become stronger.”

Fuck.
“But then...?”

Finn pushed her gently up against the tiled wall and buried his face in the juncture of her shoulder and neck. The water splashed around them, lit up by the lines still shining on his skin and hair.

“I need the dragon alive. I need her in case the Veil tears and magical creatures fall through. In case the Gates open. In case I fail. Dave can’t know the reason. He can’t know I’m not that strong.”

Because he’d kill Finn. Or... “What do you think he’ll do?”

“He’s been waiting for me to start opening Gates on my own.” He pulled back, stared into her eyes as if willing her to reach her own conclusions.

“He wants to use you to... what? Invade other worlds?”

Finn placed his hands on either side of her head and leaned closer again. “I just know he’ll kill me if I can’t keep the Gates closed, and will use me if I can open them.”

Ella swallowed hard. “And do you think you can become that strong? Able to open Gates?”

He shrugged, the movement brief. “With your help.”

There it was, the crux of the matter. “Is this why you’re blocking me from your dreams? You don’t want to become stronger because you’re afraid Dave will use you?”

He snorted softly, the puff of air tickling her skin. “No, that’s not it.”

“Then, why?”

Finn drew back and touched two fingers to his chest. His eyes were clear and bright. “Ella...”

Her eyes burned. She caught his fingers, drew him against her once more. “What? Tell me.”

“I’m not blocking you from my dreams.”

She considered this. “Then tell me about them. These dreams are memories, right? What the hell happened when you were in the army back at
Aelfheim
?”

 “Please, listen.” His jaw clenched. “My time in the army, the last months... are hazy. And I don’t remember my dreams these days, no matter how hard I try.” He sighed. “Ella, I swear it’s the truth.”

THE END of EPISODE ONE of BOREAL AND JOHN GREY (SEASON II)

The Snare

Episode 2

Nine worlds hang from the tree

Nine heavens above and countless more under the roots

deep beneath the ground.

Yggdrasil shakes, the ancient branches shiver up high

And I recall

A war.

I speak of giants from times forgotten.

Those I hunted in former days

I tell of battles and fiery spells

I tell of blood

And death.

Dark grows the sun, the summer done

Mighty storms are coming

The walls will fall

Magic will break

The vanquished gods will waken

The giants will roam the earth.

Chapter One

Lokke

Fear.

It tightened Ella’s chest, making breathing difficult. Or maybe it was that she hung in the air, bent forward, face-down. Restraints held her spread-eagled over a stone table, tuning every joint into a mass of pain. 

Lights flashed around her, disorienting, blinding. Water trickled down walls; a chill in the air and the scent of wet rock.

Someone loomed over her, a tall creature, chest encased in glittering armor. It drew back and she could see its face — long and white, the mouth lipless, the eyes slits of red.

Her heart jolted in her chest. Her stomach was a ball of nausea.

The creature lifted a narrow hand and gestured. Something huge moved behind, a giant shadow. There was a crackle, as if from fire.

No, not again.

The pain hit like white hot spears, slicing into her back, making her arch. Her scream was strangled in her throat, her breath cut off. Her body jerked in its restraints — wrapped around her arms, her hands, her legs, her feet. She stared down.

Something dark dripped, pooling on the table’s polished surface. Each drop echoed, formed widening circles.

Blood. Her blood.

Oh god.

Another blast of pain sizzled down her spine, burning like fire, bowing her back — cracking her bones, melting her flesh, and she jerked with a cry, blackness seeping into her vision.

Had to escape the pain. Couldn’t take it anymore.
Please, no more.

“Asmodr!” a hoarse cry echoed in her ears. “No!”

Not her voice. A man’s voice.

Finn’s voice.

Ella came awake with a gasp, twitching on the bed, tangled in the quilt. Phantom pain burned in her back, making her grit her teeth. And she knew without a shade of a doubt, despite the taste of blood in her mouth and the black spots dancing in her vision, that this was not her dream.

She forced her body to uncurl, her cramped legs to stretch. God, everything hurt. She slid off the bed, scanning the dimness of their room, then stepped outside, into the corridor. “Finn?”

The golden threads of the Veil quivered in the dark, fizzling and fading, one after the other. No Shades, no Gate.

Finn was curled up, pressed against the wall, his whole body flashing with bright lines. His breathing rattled, as if he couldn’t quite draw air. He jerked back when she leaned over him, smacking his head on the wall. Then he dragged himself sideways, away from her, his gaze wide and unfocused.

Fuck.

She stilled, not knowing what to do, standing in the cold corridor, in the dark, the only light the lines of fear on Finn’s skin. It felt like a nightmare inside a nightmare. She tried to remember the things she’d read on the internet about post-traumatic stress disorder, about the things Mike had told her... Her mind was still frozen from the nightmare.

She took one step, then another, and slid down the wall next to Finn. The floor was so cold it stung her bare feet. She clasped her arms around her knees, shivering.

Waited.

Finn hung his head, his breathing starting to ease. When she reached a hand out to him, he hesitated for a moment, then clasped it in his. His fingers were icy.

“Do you remember anything?” she whispered.

He grimaced. “Pain,” he rasped.

Yeah, she remembered that, all too well. Her back still ached, the marrow burned inside her bones. “What else?”

“
Lokke
.”

“What’s that?”

“Spider,” Finn mumbled. 

“Not a white face, long and animal-like?” Hadn’t looked like a spider.

He shuddered, the air leaving his lungs in a rush.

“It’s over,” she said, steadying her voice. “Just a dream.”

But it wasn’t. A memory, that was what it was — raw and vivid and real.

Finn’s fingers clenched around hers. “A cave,” he said, and god his voice was so scratchy it hurt to hear it. “Water dripping.”

He remembered, his words confirming the little she’d seen. For the first time he remembered something, and she wondered, as she’d done several times over the past week — was that a good thing? Maybe Finn’s mind was shutting the memories out for a reason.

Yet, if he remembered what exactly had happened to him, then maybe he’d let her in and she might help — with the pain, the fear... and with the magic that allowed him to close the Gates and keep the world safe.

At what cost?
a small voice whispered in the back of her mind.
At what cost to Finn’s sanity?

She couldn’t remember whole years from her childhood, and the psychologists she’d been seeing told her that her mind was probably trying to protect her from some painful event. If she’d been experiencing Finn’s traumas, it was no wonder.

She squeezed his hand, tugged on it lightly. “Come back to bed. It’s cold.”

And the night wasn’t yet over.

***

“Ella? Are you listening to me?” the high-pitched voice whined over the telephone.

“Yes, Mom, I am listening. You were saying Alfred only bought you a dozen roses for your two-month anniversary and what an asshole he is.”

“Mind your language, Ella.” As if Ella was still a ten-year-old. “Don’t you care that I’m unhappy?”

Ella paused in the act of stuffing the washing machine full of dirty laundry and shifted the cell under her cheek. She was dead tired. A full-night’s sleep was a thing of the distant past, and Finn’s nightmares were getting worse — always revolving around the same: the shining creature with the long face, the cave, the pain.

God, the pain.

She shuddered. “I want you to be happy, Mom. I thought Alfred made you happy. I thought—”

“He’s seeing another woman.”

Ella blinked. “He is? I mean... that’s awful.”

“He has all the signs. Comes home late, won’t tell me where he’s been... He’s distracted all the time. And I’m sure his secretary is giving him the sweet eye.”

“Yeah well, that’s no proof, is it?” Ella stuffed more clothes into the machine and hoped it wouldn’t burst. She picked up one of Finn’s shirts, stared at the blood stains down the front. “Maybe he’s stressed over work.”

“There you go, defending him. Oh god, I can’t believe I put my faith in this man. If he hasn’t got anything to hide, then why isn’t he talking to me?”

Ella swallowed hard, thinking how sure she’d been Finn was hiding something from her, when it had been another kettle of fish altogether. Did Dave really have a transmitter on Finn? Or inside the apartment? She glanced around, uneasy.

“I can’t stand this any longer,” her mother went on. “I won’t be his little lapdog, waiting for him at home and wagging my tail for a treat.”

A dog in a blond wig and red dress.
Ow, the image.
Ella slammed the door of the machine shut and leaned on it. It was set into a closet next to the bathroom and a stain was spreading on the wall.
Damn. A leak?

“I can’t take whatever he dishes out and be grateful, now, can I?” Linda insisted.

“No, Mom, of course not. Just try to talk to him first, is all I’m saying.” It wasn’t like she knew Alfred. Had never met him. Maybe he was an asshole, after all.

A crash sounded from somewhere inside the apartment and Ella stood so fast she saw black spots. What the hell was that?

Her mother was still talking, something about clothes and how to pack them without creasing them — who cared? She sidled down the corridor, remembering she’d left her belt with her knives and gun in the bedroom.
Dammit.

“Ella? Are you still there?”

“Gotta go, talk to you later.” She disconnected, shoved the cell into her back pocket, and peered into the living room.

Empty. Quiet. Dim, with the curtains drawn even though it was still early afternoon, but nothing looked out of place. Best of all, no lights flashing, no clicking noises, no smell of ozone on the air.

She crept inside, keeping her back to the wall, and stalked toward the kitchen door. The light was on inside. Something clattered, and she heard a curse.

Ella peered around the doorjamb.

Finn crouched on the floor, shards of ceramic in his hands. He looked up, a contrite expression on his face. “Sorry.”

She wanted to laugh with relief. “No worries.” She knelt next to him, gathering the pieces.

“It’s your favorite mug.”

“I don’t care about the damn mug.” She put a hand on top of his, feeling the fine scars on his knuckles. “As long as you’re okay, nothing else matters.”

His smile was worth the scare he’d given her, and when she kissed him to make sure he got it, to assure herself he was really okay, her heart finally quieted.

For now.

***

All the lights were on, flooding the living room with yellow light. It was like the set of a theater play, a pantomime, the actors moving about silently. Finn was checking under the couch, his head stuck below, while Mike examined the underbelly of the coffee table. Scott crouched by the window, patting the folds of the curtains.

The television was playing, background noise, a program of music videos. The presenter said something witty and there was laughter, then more music.

Ella finished her check of the bookshelves and wiped sweat and filth off her face.

No sign of a transmitter so far and they’d been at it for a couple hours now, going through the whole apartment.

Dammit.

“Well, this is fun,” Mike muttered, sitting up and folding his legs, Indian-style, on the carpet. He had spider webs caught in his dark hair. “We should get together for drinks in your apartment more often. Hey, can I have another martini? Stirred, not shaken.”

Well, they’d agreed to pretend they were meeting for drinks, not to tip Dave off, but Mike was going for an Oscar here.

Finn who’d pulled out from under the sofa, his face white with dust, lifted a brow. Right, Mike and his love for old Bond films...

Scott walked over from the window and sank in the sofa with a sigh. Dust bunnies stuck to his pants. “You could use some help with the cleaning of the place.”

“Well, it’s charming how dusty the TV set is,” Mike said. “I mean, you can hardly see the singer in the clip. That blurry, retro quality of image... You know.”

“I’ll wash the screen,” Ella grumbled.

“Save the water, I’m parched,” Mike said.

Ella sighed and went to the kitchen, returning with a tray piled with glasses and a jar. “Any other improvements you’d like to see?” 

“Nah, I’m good.” Scott winked. “At least the floor is swept now.” 

Yeah, they’d swept everything, checked under every piece of furniture, fingered the covers and the cushions, dismantled the cupboards, pulled the shower to pieces, started a leak when they checked in the water pipes under the sink. Mike had brought a metal detector — assuming the transmitter was metal — and had passed it over the walls, the floors, the ceilings.

Over Finn.

Nothing.

Which was why they had to check by feel. Ella hoped Dave hadn’t hidden a camera, too, somewhere.