Boreal and John Grey Season 2 (2 page)

The threads

Episode 1

Nine worlds grow on the World Tree.

At the center lies Midgard, the human world.

Above is rich Asgard, land of the Aesir,

And cold Aelfheim where the Light Elves dwell.

In the north is Niflheim, of fog and lost voices,

In the east Jotunheim, of the sorcerer giants,

In the south Musspelheim, home to the fire demons,

In the west Vanaheim, prison of the vanquished gods.

And down below, in roots and blood, there’s Svartalfheim, the Dark Elves’ cradle,

and then Helheim, the pit of tortured ghosts.

Chapter One

Sunrise

Insistent ringing roused Ella from sleep, shattering a dream of Finn talking to her earnestly about lollipops.

Lollipops? Seriously?

Damn ringing continued. Had to be the alarm clock, Ella thought fuzzily and made a grab for it, upturning the lamp on her bedside table and catching it a second before it crashed to the floor.

Not the alarm clock.

Phone.

Blindly she groped for it and rolled on her back to answer, her arm flopping to the side.

Cold sheets. Finn wasn’t in bed. Where the hell was he?

And how was she going to stop the damn ringing?

She fumbled with the phone, jabbing a finger on the touchscreen and setting off alarms and flashing lights. God, this damn new mobile Mike insisted she buy. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

“Ella.” Dave’s crisp voice brought her to full wakefulness. “We have a situation.”

“You don’t say.” Because Dave usually called to read her the daily horoscope...
Yeah, right.
She sat up, scanning the room. Nope, Finn wasn’t there. “So, what’s up, boss man?”

They hadn’t had any Shade sightings in a month, and no Gates reported open. It had been quiet downtime, during which they’d more or less relaxed, checking any strange occurrence, verifying it wasn’t what they feared.

And now...

Ella’s pulse sped up. She wedged the phone between cheek and shoulder and got up, hunting for her cardigan. “Dave, are you still there?”

Papers being shuffled, a siren wailing in the background. “Yeah. Listen... We seem to have a sighting.”

Crap.
“Sighting. Of what?” Pulling the cardigan on, she exited into the corridor. Where was Finn? “Please tell me this is a bad dream I’m having.” She’d much rather go back to the one with the lollipops, weird though it might have been. She glanced into the bathroom. The radio clock on the shelf read three thirty in the fucking morning. “Make that a very bad dream.”

“White creature, flying over the buildings. Could be anything. Could be just a rumor, but things have been too quiet lately and that worries me.”

Yeah.
Ella couldn’t deny she felt the same. “Where?”

“You know the abandoned clothes factory behind the wharves?”

“Right. I’m on it.”

More shuffling of papers. A phone ringing.

Ella waited. “Anything you’re not telling me, Dave?”

“Well.” Dave cleared his throat. “The sighting was quite far from you, so it can’t be a new Gate, can it?”

Ella blinked a few times in the dimness of the corridor, her hand lifted to open the living room door.

Right, he was asking her because she was supposed to know how Finn’s magic worked. Dave wasn’t supposed to know she operated on hunches and experimentation when it came to that. “Too far,” she said.

Was it?

“Finn promised he’d keep the Gates shut,” Dave muttered, sounding distant. “He’d better.”

Ella frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Check out the damn sighting,” Dave said tiredly. “Okay?”

She grabbed the handle and the door swung open from the inside, scaring the bejesus out of her. “Shit.”

Finn stood there. He lifted a brow at her and folded his arms over his bare chest. He looked good. Hell, he looked practically edible in grey drawstring pants, his silvery hair loose on his shoulders. Barefoot. A light sheen of sweat covered his skin as if he’d been exercising.

Why the hell was he exercising at frigging three thirty in the morning?

“Ella,” Dave barked into the phone, “are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Finn withdrew into the living room and she followed.

“Just go over there and report, copy that?”

“Yes. Over and out.” Ella pressed a random button on the glowing touchscreen, hoping it’d turn the damn thing off.

Honestly?
Dave knew she wasn’t a morning person — hey, it wasn’t even morning yet — and multitasking before dawn wasn’t one of her strengths. Especially with so much of Finn’s body in display. It tended to fry a girl’s thoughts.

Besides, it couldn’t be a Gate. Dave was right, it was too far, and the temperature hadn’t changed. No freak snow storms. No dream memories from Finn. Maybe it was an albatross. Or a helicopter. Hell, it could even be the morning star. People often took it for an alien spaceship, and it could be that.

Right?

Finn was puttering in the kitchen and she followed the sounds. There was a hint of freshly brewed coffee on the air. A steaming mug of her favorite tea sat on the counter. Finn waited until she took a long draught of its bitter goodness, then he leaned back and lifted his chin.

“Sighting?” he asked, sipping his coffee.

“Yep. Something flying, Dave said.” She hesitated. “It’s not a Gate, is it?”

Finn shook his head and turned to put his mug in the sink. In the harsh light of the fluorescent lamp, the smattering of fine scars on his back glinted like silver.

“Okay then.” She gulped down her tea, scalding her tongue. “Let’s go check it out.”

***

The dusty windows of the abandoned factory had a rosy tint. The sun was rising over the wharves that lined the sea shore, coloring the clouds.

“Can’t see a damn thing,” Ella muttered, standing by the car, squinting upward. “Can you?”

Finn opened the car door and scowled at the overcast sky. His clear eyes reflected the grey as he drew his semi-automatic from its shoulder holster. He got out, dressed only in a white t-shirt and black cargo pants.

Jesus.
The temperature was in the thirties and she was wrapped up in her jacket and scarf. Damn elves and their tolerance to the cold.

She pulled her gun from its hip holster, following him to the padlocked doors, watched as he rattled them and stepped back.

No need to break them down. If it was an animal that had crossed over from Aelfheim it wouldn’t have locked up after using the place.

Finn re-holstered his gun, headed to a rusty ladder nailed to the wall and started climbing.

Flying creature. Roof nesting. Made sense, but damn, she hated heights.

Muttering to herself, casting one last look around, she clambered up the rusty, rickety rungs.

The roof was a wasteland of broken crates, metal grids and assorted trash. Finn was crouched by a wide chimney, his hair draped on his shoulders like a cloak of silver.

Quiet. No wind.

But something moved in the air, a golden ripple. Ella narrowed her eyes. A reflection on metal?

Another ripple and she drew her knives, watching the air break into successive waves that vanished.

The air was still once more.

The hell was that? When Finn had opened Gates, the air had bulged and shapes had been visible through the Veil, but this...

Wary, knives held loosely at her sides, she stalked toward Finn who stood, head bowed, still staring at a spot on the roof.

“Find anything?” she called.

A hesitation. His blue eyes flicked sideways, finding her. “Not sure.”

“What is it?” Nothing out of place she could see from where he stood. Just more garbage — broken wooden beams and slabs of concrete.

“An animal nested here,” Finn said. “The scent is a few days old.”

“What kind of animal?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Finn, your nose is like a bloodhound’s. If you can’t tell me...”

“A White animal. But there’s a human smell, too.” He frowned. “Familiar smell.”

White animal. Aelfheim.
Hell.
“I thought you said no Gate opened.”

He shook his head.

Could he tell when a Gate opened? So far it had always happened when he was caught in nightmares. Did that mean he really had no bad dreams anymore?

And if not, why had he been awake before dawn?

“Were you dreaming of army drills this morning, Finn?” She observed him move to another spot and sort through trash. “That why you were up so early?”

Finn didn’t answer.

Typical.

Sighing, she walked to the edge of the roof.
Not afraid of heights, not afraid of heights...

Nothing stirred below. Mist curled around the buildings. She turned, sheathing her knives, thinking another cup of hot tea would be nice before reporting to Dave.

“Your dragon,” Finn said.

“Beg your pardon?”

He tilted his head to the side, blue eyes narrowed. “This place smells of dragon, and...” He lifted a chunk of wood and fabric from the floor. “This smells of you.”

“Wait, are you saying this is the dragon you tamed and sent away? The one that burned my apartment down?”
That bastard.
The days and weeks after that had been crazy busy — and then crazy
crazy
— so she hadn’t thought about it. She’d assumed Dave had taken care of the dragon. She eyed the piece of furniture Finn held. “Hey, is that from my sofa?”

“Dragon moved on. She doesn’t nest here anymore.”

She-dragon.
When he’d stuck the knife in the dragon’s head that night, Ella thought the creature had left the way it had come. Back to Aelfheim. Now why she’d thought it possible...

“Where can she be now?” Ella asked.

“High places. This sort of dragon nests in the mountains.” Finn threw the piece of wood across the roof, striking a chimney. He kicked a box. “
Faen
.”

“Whoa.” Ella lifted her brows. “What’s up?”

“We need to talk to Dave.”

“Yeah, I know that’s annoying.” Dave being the man who shot Finn with the purpose of killing him, a man who was in fact a clockwork machine programmed to guard the Gates against John Grey, but still... “I can do the talking. You can stand there and grunt if you like.”

Finn didn’t seem amused. Go figure. “I know why the scent was different.” He stalked to the edge of the roof and rubbed a hand over his face.

Okay...
“So, why?”

“She’s going to lay eggs.”

Eggs. More dragons.

Oh fuck.
“Actually, you’d better do the talking this time. Sorry, but I know jack about dragon babies.”

***

Dave’s office was immaculate as always. Neat piles of documents on his table, a half-empty mug on a leather coaster, not a spec of dust on the shelves where folders were arranged by color.

Maybe dust got in his machinery?

Finn leaned by the closed door, one booted foot propped on the wall — putting as much distance between himself and their boss as possible.

Well, Dave had shot him once. Standing in the same room with him was brave, in Ella’s opinion.

“Are you sure about this, son?” Dave scratched at his eternal three-day stubble, then leaned away from his desk. “That she’s going to reproduce?”

Finn nodded. “Her scent’s sour.”

Lovely.
The first dragon to cross over had to be a pregnant one.

“I see.” Dave was humming. Stressed out. Probably about to blow a fuse.

Ella snickered, then pretended to cough behind her hand. “Sorry.”

Yeah, not funny at all.

“And you’re sure no new Gate opened?” Dave stared at Finn who glared back. The air sizzled.

“I can’t be sure,” Finn said. “But I don’t think so.”

“No nightmares and no Gates opening, huh? You’d better be right.” Dave sipped from his mug. God knew what he had in there; probably the special oil for his metal cogs and wheels, as reported in the
Grarsaga
.