Boreal and John Grey Season 1 (15 page)

Under its white blanket, the city was unrecognizable. Pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks, wearing hoods and colorful scarves, leaving dark footprints in the snow.

Finn sat in inscrutable silence as they reached her neighborhood and parked in a side street, his face blank but tense. He limped so badly when he got out to follow her that she decided the stairs were out of the question. She rarely took the elevator — it was so small it gave her a mild sense of claustrophobia and carried memories of injuries when she’d been forced to use it, but today it would serve its purpose.

Missy scratched at the door as she struggled with the key, and meowed pitifully when she succeeded in opening. “Hey, kitty.”

It took the space of a second, as Finn crossed the threshold, for Missy to transform from a cuddly kitten to a hissing ball of electric fur.

“Whoa!” Ella stared at the tiny demon showing little sharp teeth, then turned to Finn. “Do cats always like you so much?”

Finn lifted a pale eyebrow and didn’t comment.
Right
.

Giving the kitty a wide berth, Ella led the way into the living room, sighing in pleasure at the warmth. She shrugged off her jacket and blew on her hands to warm them.

Finn stood at the edge of the plum-colored carpet as if not sure what to do with himself. Rolling her eyes, Ella strode over to him, grabbed his arm and dragged him to the couch.

“Sit,” she said. “I want to have a look at your leg, and your side.”

“I’m okay,” Finn said automatically.

Yeah, yeah
.

She pushed him until he sat and went to fetch her medic kit from the bathroom. Sitting by his side, she set it on the table and turned to him. He inched back on the sofa as if she’d grown claws.

“Shirt,” she said. “Up.” Huh, maybe Finn’s monosyllabic language was starting to rub off on her. When he didn’t move, she took things in her own hands and lifted the hem of his shirt.

“I’m—”

“Yeah, I know,” she snapped, untaping the gauze from his side. “You’re fine. Just humor me and sit still for a moment.”

He glanced at the door, then back at her.
Ready to turn tail and run
. She put a hand on his arm, the muscles under her fingers strung like cables.

“I’m just going to have a look,” she said, voice low, calm, keeping her movements slow. “Okay?”

Ice-blue eyes bore into hers. Then the tension left his body and he nodded.

The butterfly bandages had held and the slashes hadn’t reopened. Some blood had trickled out but it wasn’t much. Relieved, she packed fresh gauze over the wounds and taped it in place.

“It looks good.” Although new bruises were already forming on his chest and sides from his tussle with the Shade in the car. She felt along his ribs but he didn’t flinch. Nothing serious, then.

His skin was soft under her fingertips, and warm, and...

And she really shouldn’t be thinking of how good he’d look shirtless, not now.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Ella
.

Finn was watching her with round eyes, and she grinned. “What? Has nobody patched you up before?”

A light flush rose to his cheekbones. He set his jaw and glared at the far wall.

Was that a no? Damn Finn and his lost boy moments. It made her want to hug him, and that was out of the question.

“Now the leg,” she said and slid down to kneel by his feet. She undid his laces and pulled his boots off, letting them thump softly on the thick carpet. “Which one hurts?”

Finn grunted.

She tapped his left knee. “Is it this one?”

He stretched out his right leg with a wince, and she rolled up his pants to have a look.

Ow
. She ran her fingers over the thick, dark ropes of scars running from knee to ankle, and her leg twinged in sympathy. “Dammit, Finn. What happened?”

He jerked, almost kicking her in the process, and squirmed backward until he was brought up short by the backrest.

She tightened her hold, waited until he settled against the cushions. “What did this?”

“Accident,” he ground out.

“It must have been bad. Bones broken?”

He shivered, let his head drop back. She pressed her thumbs into his shin, against the tibia, and he stilled. The bone wasn’t entirely smooth; a little misaligned. The fracture hadn’t healed perfectly. Made her wonder how he was able to move so gracefully when fighting. With the cold and wet, it had to hurt like hell.

“Can you fix it?” he whispered and her head snapped up.

Short of breaking it again and realigning the bones, she couldn’t think of anything. But she was no expert. “Perhaps a doctor could help.”

The hope faded from his eyes. He jerked his leg out of her hands and proceeded to glare at her as if she’d insulted his mother.

Oh, jeez
. “No doctors, got it.” She was becoming an expert in decoding Finn’s glares. Simon would be proud.

Simon
. A weight crushed her chest as memory rushed back. Soon there would be a memorial service, and then a funeral. Simon would be lowered into the ground, and she’d have to accept he wasn’t coming back.
Ever
.

A knock roused her. Finn sat up and drew his pistol in one smooth movement, pointing it at the door. There came another knock, soft and timid.

“Shades don’t knock,” she muttered and gestured at Finn to lower the weapon. He ignored her.

Hoping he wasn’t too trigger-happy, she moved toward the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Mike.”

She opened and Mike practically fell inside, his short dark hair standing on end. Frigid air rushed in as she pulled him inside and leaned on the door. “Damn cold.”

Mike stilled, faced with Finn. “Is he going to shoot me?”

Finn lowered his gun, brows twisting in a frown.

“It’s my neighbor, Mike,” Ella said, crossing over to the heater and practically sitting on top of it. “The clothes you’re wearing are his boyfriend’s.”

Finn remained blank.

“Hey.” Mike sauntered over to the sofa, apparently taking the lowering of Finn’s gun as an invitation to get cozy. “Hiding hot boys in your apartment and not telling me?”

Finn gave a slow blink and shifted an inch away from Mike. His finger twitched on the trigger.

“You’ve got Scott,” Ella countered. “I’ll tell.”

“Ah, well. Scott and I...” Mike sighed, looking dejected. He threaded his fingers through his short hair.

“Mike.” Ella shook her head. “He barely moved in. Give it time.”

“But that’s the point.” Mike leaned back. “He barely moved in and he’s already reorganizing my apartment, my wardrobe and my whole damn life!”

Simon had tried that, too, to bring some of the order of his life into her messy one. Hadn’t worked out. “What about the Voices? Is he okay with that?”

Mike’s shoulders slumped. “He doesn’t like it. Says I ought to go see a specialist. A shrink.”

Finn cast her a questioning glance.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mike is an oracle. He hears the Shades.”

Finn’s eyebrows lifted.

“I’m also an accountant by day. Very exciting, isn’t it?” Mike winked, then seemed to notice Finn’s boots lying on the carpet and his socked feet. “Hey, erm. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything?”

“No, you haven’t,” Ella said quickly. “Cross my heart.”

“Oh, good.” Mike grinned. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Mike, meet Finn.” Ella waved a hand at him. “My new, temporary partner.”

A hesitation, then, “Partner, huh? What about Simon?”

“Simon’s...” She drew a shuddering breath. “He’s dead.”

“Dead?” Mike paled and sat up. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ella. Shade attack?”

She shook her head. A knot had lodged in her throat. It made breathing hard.

“And here I am, coming to you with my stupid problems.” Mike got up, mouth pinched. “Really sorry.”

“It’s okay. Ella managed a deep breath. “Hey, um. Would you like a coffee or tea...?”

“No, thanks. I’ll just be on my way.”

She went after him. “Mike, wait. Have you heard anything else that could help us?”

“Not really, sorry. Although...” He paused by the door. “They did mention that word I told you again.”

“Boreal?”

“Yeah.”

Finn grunted and leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest.

“That’s Finn’s way of asking what they said,” Ella said. She shrugged at Mike. “He does that a lot.”

“I see. The strong, silent type.”

Finn did a fine impression of a deer caught in headlights. Ella’s lips twitched despite herself.

“Well, it sounded like the Shades hate the Boreal, whatever it is.” Mike rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t ask me why. Something about a Gate.”

Finn harrumphed and finally clicked his gun’s damn safety on. “The Boreals are People.”

Mike frowned. “People?”

“I think he means elves,” Ella muttered.

“Really.” Mike squinted at Finn.

“They’re the high lords of the Home,” Finn said. “Dragonlords.”

“And the Home is...?” Mike asked.

“I think he means
Aelfheim
, the world of the elves.” She stared at Finn. “So you’re saying the Boreals are some sort of high elves.”

Finn nodded.

“All right,” Mike said. “Elves. Of course. And how do you know all this?”

Finn scowled. “History lessons.”

Oh, right, of course
. Ella rolled her eyes as discreetly as possible. “What else can you tell us about the Boreals?”

Finn leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Boreals are born to the royal houses of the Silver Mountains. Trained to do battle in ice, to use energy-harvesting machines, and ride the
drekar
, the snow dragons. Centuries ago, they were driven out of
Aelfheim
by advancing glaciers and endless storms. They tried to invade
Midgard
. This world. As you know, they failed.”

“And now they’re coming back,” Ella breathed.

Shit
.

Chapter Four

Frekar

Fast food would save the world if the elves didn’t take it first, Ella thought as she paid the delivery boy and carried the boxes of chop suey inside. She closed the door on the chilly breeze and shivered while crossing over to the living room table. Mike had promised to find Finn something warmer to wear from Scott’s closet, but they’d have to go shopping for clothes sooner or later.

She set the food down and went in search of Finn. The sound of blades being honed drew her to the bathroom.
Oh yeah. Finn priorities
. About to fall over from exhaustion, but who cared when there were knives to be cleaned and sharpened?

“The food’s here,” she called.

He didn’t even look up, focused on his task, the whetstone screeching against the metal of the blade. Had he heard her?

Shrugging, she returned to the living room. She wasn’t all that hungry herself, not since she’d been told of Simon’s death, and even less since seeing his body at the morgue.

It was barely midday and she was bone-tired. With a sigh, she curled on the sofa and pulled the book from her purse.

Grarssaga
. Simon had been dating an oracle. No wonder he’d realized before all of them what was going on. Sarah, his girlfriend, was at the hospital. Ella wondered if someone had informed her that her boyfriend was dead, torn open by a...

She swallowed hard, chased the images from her mind. She opened the book, but the letters swam before her eyes. Torn open by a wolf, according to Finn. A white, scaly wolf. The picture just wouldn’t form.
Scaly? What the hell?
She couldn’t recall ever reading any description of the animals of the
aelfar
.

Or it was all in Finn’s mind. Maybe something perfectly mundane had killed Simon; maybe the lab had been wrong about the DNA.

Yeah, and pigs could fly.

The saga opened with the usual genealogy of an obscure king called Sirurd, a description of his Hall and lands, his exploits against his neighboring kingdoms and the wife he stole from his best friend in a bloody fight. So typical. Then came his complaints about his thieving subjects and descriptions of the feasts he provided his buddies after hunting.

Bother
. She rubbed the aching spot between her eyes. Who knew weeping brought on such a headache? Add to that a sleepless night and worrying about Finn, the Shades and the fate of the world, and it was no wonder she felt like a spike was driving into her skull.

She flipped past pages of useless information about another king’s visit and the fun the both of them had — she hadn’t known you could do that to a roasted pig and now she wish she hadn’t — and stopped at the first mention of the
aelfar
.

They had been visiting Sirurd, apparently on a regular basis. They were treated as guests of honor and then came long pages of the magic the
aelfar
displayed for the enjoyment of Sirurd’s guests. They juggled crystal spheres that hung in the air like stars, and created arches of pure light that changed colors. Music played without instruments, and withered flowers bloomed afresh in the vases. They also brought fantastic gifts — jewels unlike any Sirurd had ever seen, pearls which glowed with an inner light, and animal pelts like white velvet. In return, they asked him to host in secret one of their party, one called John Grey.

Ella paused with her finger marking the name in the text. Why would the elves want Sirurd to hide John Grey? As Dave had said, the only other mention they had of John Grey was a warning. Beware. Dangerous. Powerful, for sure. How would hiding this person in a small lord’s hall serve them?

Lots of blather followed, transcriptions of songs sung around the long tables, and a brief mention of this John Grey, sitting apart, silent. No description, no comment whether he was a Shade, what his power was.

Damn
.

Mike came bearing gifts — a sweater, a scarf, thick pants and socks, even gloves. Ella thanked him, distracted.

What was the role of John Grey? The text didn’t offer much in way of information about him. For several pages he was forgotten in favor of more fireworks by the elves, and descriptions of a few of their female company. Apparently elven ladies were beautiful like fresh snow and yet warm like mead. Ella had a good idea of how Sirurd knew that, and wondered if these alien ladies had gone with him willingly or were forced in order to show good will.

Because, apparently, they really, really wanted Sirurd to hide John Grey. Why Sirurd? Why John Grey? Why this whole game?

Damn, the headache was like rusty nails being drilled into her forehead. She flipped another page and stopped. Apparently Sirurd was no idiot: he had the exact same questions.

The elves didn’t give an outright reply. That would’ve been too easy. They hedged and extolled the beauty of human women, their virtue and honor. Ella snorted.
Hypocrites
. She spread her fingers on the page and frowned.

The elves apparently wanted to ask for the hand of Sirurd’s daughter for John Grey.

Ella shook her head, nonplussed.
Again, why?
If they wanted an alliance, why not seek out one of the great Kings of the time? Could it be that Sirurd’s lands had special properties?

Sirurd gave a long speech about his daughter’s virtue, the strength of the elves, the honor they bestowed upon him and the cartloads of gifts he expected. And of course no mention of the girl’s opinion anywhere. It didn’t matter if she was willing or not, and that was one of the things Ella hated most about the epics. She was glad to be born in the twenty-first century, thank you very much.

The elves gave their own long-winded speech after Sirurd was finally done, assuring him he’d get the trinkets he wanted, the stupid git, and that they were most overjoyed he agreed to their terms.

Terms?

Ella bent over the text, flipped a couple pages back. What had the elves demanded? Tracing the words with her finger, she found it: they wanted Sirurd to let them examine his court and every guest crossing his doorstep before they ever approached John Grey and his daughter. In fact, the couple would live in a special building the elves would construct, a sort of tower.

Heh. Interesting
. John Grey was powerful. But maybe he wasn’t invulnerable. Maybe he could be harmed, even killed.

It gave Ella hope.

The elves briefly explained that there were people out to harm the couple’s happiness. Not humans, in fact, but what they called Duergar of Dokkalfar.

Apparently, Dokkalfar also came from
Aelfheim
, but they easily passed off as humans. Few things could pick them apart in the crowd, but the elves advised how to do it. It wasn’t easy. Apparently, for one, there was an angle from which they showed their true nature.

Sirurd asked what nature was that. Dark, the elves answered. Dokkalfar. Dark elves.

Yeah, as if that meant much. Dark of skin? Or what?

Sirurd clarified he wasn’t talking about the Dark elves but the Duergar that had been mentioned.
Good man
.

Okay, so apparently Duergar and Dark elves weren’t the same. Duergar didn’t sleep. At all. They didn’t eat.

And then there were the
spirals
. The word was underlined several times, and in the margin, in a familiar looping handwriting, stood her name.

Ella let the book drop on the coffee table and sat back, her hands starting to shake. What the fuck? Why had Simon marked it? What did he know about her dreams?

Finn wandered in, startling her. He spotted the food and grabbed a box of takeaway. He dug in with his fingers, eating so fast he might choke, and froze when he caught her eye.

“There are chopsticks,” she said, “inside the plastic bag.”

He gave her a blank look. With Finn, nothing was self-evident.

Mouth settling in a hard line, she picked up the book once more, determined to find out what was said about the spirals. But of course the elves didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to explain, because they themselves would guard Sirurd’s lands and John Grey; they would pick out the Duergar and stop them from approaching.

Dammit
. She pulled off her hair tie, pushed her fingers into her hair and massaged her scalp. Her head ached. For every answer, two new questions.
Useless
.

Then her phone rang, and it was the emergency tone. She grabbed it, flipped it open. “Ella.”

“Get your new partner and get over here,” Dave rumbled over the line. “We’ve got a situation downtown.”

Finn looked up, took in her expression and dropped the takeaway box on the table. “Trouble?”

“Yup.” Grabbing her gun, she checked it was loaded and sheathed her knives and
shuriken
. Put the book back in her purse. Glanced at Finn who was strapping on his weapons and sighed. “It just never ends.”

***

Chaos was the only word that could describe the situation in the town center. Amidst the swirling snowflakes, people ran in panicked circles. The place wasn’t far from the library where they’d stopped with Finn earlier, but it was unrecognizable. The streets were jammed with cars, drivers honking and shouting, trying to leave. Useless, of course. Too many cars, too many people.

Where was Dave?

Someone tapped on her window and she rolled it down. A chubby woman dressed in police uniform. She looked familiar.

“Martha?” Ella asked. “Martha Graham?”

Martha pushed her glasses up her nose. “Ella Benson.” She didn’t look overly thrilled to see her again. Could be because yesterday — was it just yesterday? — Ella had taken Finn out of jail without an explanation.

“Dave called me. David Holborn.”

“He’s here.” Martha pointed in a direction from which more and more people came, running as if hellhounds bayed at their heels.

“Stay here,” she told Finn. After seeing his leg, she wanted him to rest it if possible. “I’ll be back.”

She hurried out and tried to take stock of things. No clicking in the air, which meant no Shades.
Probably
. One shouldn’t forget that the last time they’d appeared without warning. “What’s happening?”

“Animal attack. Maybe more than one animal. Killed three people already.”

“What kind of animal?”

But Martha had already turned away, marching to a group of passersby and gesturing for them to leave.