Boreal and John Grey Season 2 (24 page)

But she’d hurt Finn worse in the process.
Why?
Cautiously, she knelt by his side, not knowing if to touch him or wait until he moved.

He finally looked up. He had bloody tracks on his cheeks.

“Are you okay?” She swallowed hard. “Finn?”

“Don’t pull my threads,” he rasped.

She shook her head. “I don’t understand. The threads look all the same to me.”

“You can’t see the pattern yet.” Finn slowly sat up. Strands of blond hair were stuck to his temples with blood. His eyes glimmered darkly. “And I don’t know how to show you.”

***

In the dream, light seeped under the carved door, spreading like a pool of gold on the polished stone. Finn reached for the handle — he was too little in this dream-memory, the handle too high — standing on tiptoe, straining his limbs, stretching up—

The door slid open with a whine of hinges, spilling him inside. Gasping, Finn staggered into the room, his steps silent, muffled by his soft skin shoes.

The fire burned in the hearth, the silver cone sucking the smoke out with soft sighs. Ella knew Finn wasn’t allowed in here as she followed him. His face was rapt, his small mouth open as he slunk between fur-covered easy chairs and book-weighed tables. Everything was huge, towering over them.

“Finn?” Ella followed him inside, dread twisting her stomach. “Where are you going?”

He didn’t answer; didn’t seem to hear. A couch sat before the fire and a woman lay there, her head on an embroidered, crimson cushion. A heavy book was open in her hands, displaying drawings of plants and animals, and lines of densely packed handwritten text.

Finn stopped and grinned, his eyes lighting up. “
Modhir
,” he whispered, his voice full of joy.

A memory of his mother.

But a shadow moved behind the couch — a tall, broad-shouldered man with long silver hair, similar to Finn’s, and yet his face larger, harsher. He pushed the couch aside, jostling the woman resting on it, and she rolled and fell to the ground with a horrible crack.

Finn cried out and stumbled forward. Ella’s heart seized, her own cry dying on her lips.

“You killed her,” his father said, his voice even and quiet, an incongruous smile playing on his lips. “You did this.”

“No,” Finn whispered as his mother’s pale face came into view — papery skin like parchment, sharp cheekbones and why did it seem all so familiar?

“You broke her heart,” his father went on, relentless, still smiling. “Her death is on your hands.”

“Stop it!” Ella shouted, trying to touch Finn, to pull him away from there, to cover his ears. But she couldn’t reach him no matter how hard she tried. “You can’t blame him for this. It was your fault, dammit.” She clawed at the still air; a barrier between her and Finn, just like it used to be before she managed to make herself heard in his dreams. “Let me in.”

“You kill people,” Finn’s father went on, looming over him. “You destroy everything and everyone. Stop fighting it. Stay dead.”

Ella’s throat closed. “Don’t listen to him, Finn,” she rasped. “Please, don’t listen.”

But boy-Finn’s eyes closed and he hung his head, tears tracking down his cheeks. “My fault.”

Space and time lurched, throwing her down, tumbling her around until she didn’t know which way was up or down. Her back hit hard, rocky ground. She rolled, coming to a stop against a wall, wet with moisture. Groaning, she pushed up to her knees, then sought a handhold on the wall to drag herself upright.

Then space opened again to a familiar snowed plain, framed by steep mountains.

Finn stood with the shiny tube-like gun in his hand, his face pale like death. “No,” he whispered, his voice rising, “no!”

Men and women. Elves. They lay facedown on the snowed-on ground, pools of blood spreading around them.

Oh god, no.

Chapter Two

Guilt

It was morning, but after a night of nightmares interspersed with fighting monsters from beyond the Veil gave everything a dream-like quality, and not in a good way. Her head weighed a ton and she felt as if she should be holding it in place so it wouldn’t roll off her shoulders.

Crap.

‘My threads.’
The words echoed in Ella’s head as she sat down on the sofa. Finn said he couldn’t explain more, that it was a matter of seeing.

How could she see?

It all had to mean something about her own abilities, and if she managed to decode it, to understand what she could do, then maybe she could find a way to unlock Finn’s memory.

Maybe Dave knew. But was it worth it, giving Dave more information and with it more power over Finn?

Was there any other choice if she wanted to save Finn and her world?

“Do you think there’ll be something useful on this?” She cast the elven gadget they’d taken from the dead Boreal a dubious look. It felt like months since they’d been inside the abandoned ship’s hold to feed the dragonets; since Finn had opened the gizmo and extracted the gleaming crystalline egg that apparently held the dead Boreal’s last orders.

Finn wore a blue t-shirt with the words
‘Warning: Permanent Sugar High’
that Mike had given him for Christmas. He lifted the egg in his palm. His knuckles were bandaged, a result of fighting the spiders bare-handed, and he had a scabbed-over cut on his cheek.

Were they Shades? It was as if the definition was getting looser each time. She’d have to ask Finn, but it looked like these creatures — the Ettin and the Jotunn — could walk through the Veil as if it were a corridor, waiting for a rip so they could step out. Last night hadn’t been such a bad trip she still expected to wake up and find out it had all been a nightmare — the rip, the spiders, and the motherfucking threads.

The pattern
, Finn had said. She couldn’t see it. If she had any power, she was blind to it and caused more harm than good.

Figured it’d be that way. Story of her life.

The egg began to glimmer, distracting her. “Finn?” She eyed the evil gadget. “Wait...” She wanted to ask if it would work with her. Somehow she didn’t think Finn had any more energy to spare. He looked like a ghost as it was, his skin ashen, his face gaunt and bruised. “What if I—”

Finn wiggled his fingers and the egg seemed to melt, then run up, coating his hand and wrist in a transparent glove. The transparent material lit up — and a golden projection appeared in the still air of the apartment. It expanded like a bubble around Finn, red symbols running down like rivers of blood. A flashing frame was rotating around the display, symbols spinning.

Ella remembered to shut her gaping mouth. She leaned toward the dizzying display and had to shade her eyes. “Holy shit. Can you read any of this?”

His eyes were wide, tracking the streaming symbols, and the last of the color was draining from his face.

Shit, that didn’t look good. Her hands curled, nails biting into her palms, as she waited.

And waited.

The projected bubble around Finn began to flicker. Then it faded, leaving bright afterimages in Ella’s eyes. She could barely make out the liquid glass retreat from Finn’s hand, gathering in the palm of his hand, returning to its original egg shape.

She reached out to touch Finn’s arm, when light rippled in the air and she stiffened.

Threads.

The Veil about to tear. She reached for her knives.

But it didn’t. Finn’s head bowed and the egg rolled from his hand, thumping onto the carpet, yet he didn’t seem to notice. His lips peeled back and pale flames rolled down his corded arms, swirling on his skin from the short sleeves of his t-shirt to his long fingers. They danced on his flesh, so beautiful Ella almost forgot the danger.

Almost. She realized her hand was steady on the handle of her knife at her belt in case Finn failed to control the Veil.

Shudders went through his body, and his muscles bunched up across his chest. Her heart was in her throat as he battled something she could barely see, barely understand. Sweat shone on his forehead and trickled down his temples.

The light dimmed and she swallowed hard, relief rushing through her like a cooling tide.

“Ella.” Finn’s rasping whisper was barely a breath.

She caught him as he slumped forward, pulled him up, hugged him close. His skin was cold as ice. “You did it,” she said into his soft hair. “It’s okay now.”

He shook his head. “It’s not.”

“You stopped it, nothing bad happened.” Frowning, she noted that his shaking hadn’t stopped. “You’re cold. I’ll make you some hot coffee to warm you up. Just sit tight.”

“No.” He gripped her hand in his icy one and squeezed. “I read the information.”

She stilled. It had been at the back of her mind, but she’d been worried about him, dammit. He was pushing himself so hard and sooner or later something was gonna give, she just knew it, and it scared her shitless. “What did the zombie device say?”

“Boreals work...” He had to stop to catch his breath. “They work for the Dark Elves.”

Ella sighed. “We’d suspected as much. The tech that crashed through the Gate was Dark elven, after all.”

He gripped her hand tighter, grinding her bones. “They have the Weaver.” His voice was so hoarse it made her wince. “Ella... They caught others like me, without magic. There are lists of names. And lists of Boreals reporting to them.” He looked away. “One of them was my father.”

***

What else had Finn read on the device? He’d been quiet afterward, not responding to her questions. What did the information about his father mean? Was he a traitor? Or had he been forced to report that his son had no magic? It wasn’t like he could keep it a secret.

Meanwhile, they had more pressing problems. Dave wanted them to meet him at the office, and no way was she taking Finn along.

She couldn’t leave him alone, either, what with everyone out to get him. Too dangerous and he was too damn exhausted. Yeah, overriding mother-hen mode was near impossible.

So sue me.

Only one solution she could see: invite her best friend over.

Said friend — aka Mike — stood in front of the coffee table and stared at the crushed gizmo, his eyes round as saucers. He reached out a shaky hand toward the broken transmitter, then retracted it.

Finn arched a brow.

“You can talk,” Ella said. “The transmitter’s dead.”

“Dead.” Mike glanced at Finn, then back. He paled. “Oh god.”

Ella would’ve laughed, but the threads were making another appearance, shimmering and then vanishing, reappearing, keeping all her senses on alert. Since Finn’s real name had been whispered behind the Veil, since the second seal broke, the attacks had intensified, and the only reason their apartment wasn’t a bloodbath and they were sitting there having tea and coffee, just talking, was Finn. He was keeping the Shades at bay, the magic pulsing behind the Veil back.

No wonder he looked so tired. She looked over at him where he sat on the armchair, still as a statue.

‘You’re growing stronger,’
Dave had said.

Yeah, but what about Finn? What should she do? She had no clue.

“Where did you find this transmitter?” Mike asked. “We looked everywhere. We even checked the car and everything.”

“Finn cut it out of his shoulder.”

“Out of his...?” Mike’s eyes bugged out.

“His shoulder,” Ella said. “It was—”

“Holy shit!” Mike finally exploded, stomping around the table and throwing himself onto the sofa. He waved both hands in the air. “That vampire thing was inside you? How can it... How do you...?” He fell back, his face a picture in frustration. “Did your boss do that?”

Ella shrugged. “He won’t admit it, but yeah.”

“Can’t believe it. This is... ugh. And he still has one of those in his
leg
?” Frustration gave way to anger. His dark brows knitted. “How do we get the fucker out?”

“That’s the problem,” Ella said. “We don’t know if we can.”

“Why not?”

Ella glanced at Finn. He was frowning. “From the x-rays, it seems the tracker has bonded to the shin bone. Taking it out might require surgery. We still don’t know who to ask about it.”

‘Three growths on the bone,’
Darla the physiotherapist had said. But the third looked odd and was probably the tracker.

 “So what can I do?” Mike sighed. “Except for going and busting Dave’s chops, the only other thing I’m good at is giving parties and mixing drinks.” He shot to his feet. “Talking of which, I think a stiff drink is in order.”

“Sit down,” Ella said.

He did, blinking. “Kay.” With his hair sticking up, his eyes wide and cheeks flushed he looked like a three-year-old.

“Sorry.” Ella pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s just that... we need a plan.”

“For what?”

Yeah, good question. For just about everything.

Like the threads shimmering in the air again, telling her Shades were trying to break through the Veil, Shades that Finn was keeping at bay. God knew what it was costing him to sit there like nothing was up and pay attention to the conversation.

To keep going, when he was battered from every side.

Ella dropped on the sofa next to Mike. “We have a problem.”

“Only one?”

“No, but I didn’t want to scare you.”

Mike’s chuckle died in his throat. Yeah, she hadn’t been kidding. “Go on. A plan about the sniper? The Shades? The tracker in Finn’s leg?”

“Well, first of all we need a volunteer to feed the baby dragons,” Ella said and waited.

“Feed what? Are you frigging kidding me?” Mike gave her a wild look.

Yeah, exactly the reaction she’d expected. “We can’t keep doing it, not with Dave able to track Finn.”

“Holy fuck, Ella, are you serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s not the same as feeding your cat.”

“Definitely not,” she agreed.

“Do they eat cat food?”

“No. And you won’t have to get too close, I promise.  I’d do it, but...”

“But?” Mike was breathing fast. She hoped he wouldn’t hyperventilate, and she still hadn’t told him there was a corpse in the hold with the dragonets. “But what?”

“Here’s another problem.”
One of many.
“I can’t leave Finn alone right now. Not with the Gates opening and the Veil ripping all the time. Not when the Shades speak his name.”

Finn looked like he’d swallowed something sour.

“His name? Wait a second...” Mike licked his lips, swallowed hard. “Isthelf...”

“
Isthelfinn
.” It was Finn who said it. He glared at the opposite wall.

“That’s you? That’s the word I keep hearing? Ella, why didn’t you tell me?”

Finn’s gaze swung to settle on her and Ella winced. Had she done anything right? “I was going to tell you,” she told him, “but then Sarah did it for me.”

Finn’s gaze revealed nothing.

“I’ll also need help to figure out who sent the sniper,” Ella went on, clamping down on the worry. She chewed on her lip. “Can you run a background check on someone?”

“Sure.” Mike had slumped against the cushions, his hands twisting nervously in his lap. “Who?”

“Jeff Somesby. I’ll pass you everything I have on him.” And that hurt. Jefferson was her friend, someone she’d trusted. Losing trust was like a knife in her chest. “Call me paranoid, but Dave may be keeping tabs on my web searches.” She sighed. “Sorry for dumping all this on you.”

“No problem.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got your own stuff to worry about.”

“That’s not it and you know it.” Mike rubbed his hand over his spiky hair and gave a shaky laugh. “Although the idea of feeding baby dragons is stressing me out, I’ll admit.”

“No kidding.”

Mike was quiet for a long moment. Then he sat up. “What is this really about, girl? Spell it out.”

She massaged her temples. The headaches didn’t seem to ever leave her these days. “Well, there’s the sniper. And the Shades trying to drag Finn through the Veil and deliver him to the elven queen or the Dark Elves or whoever the hell is searching for him, to use him as a weapon. Then there’s the dragon and her bond to Finn. Not to forget the last magical seal about to break and the fact it may kill Finn. Mike...” She had to stop.

God, she’d never been so afraid in her life, not that she’d admit it out loud. Too many dangers. Too many factors out of her control. Too many people — organizations, empires, worlds — after Finn.

Not fair.
She’d always hope to fall in love with a kind, funny man and live a quiet life.