Boreal and John Grey Season 1 (5 page)

Ella didn’t answer, let her take her time and look. The Shade was shuffling toward the door of the office. It was in plain view, not hiding in a corner anymore.

She waited.

Martha finished her inspection of the surroundings and turned back to Ella. “You’re kidding me, right? Is it some sort of a test?”

It had been, and Martha had failed. Half an hour of Ella’s life lost — not taking into account her hunt for a parking space earlier. Could have been worse, she supposed. She could have been forced to take on a partner. “Thank you for your time, officer.”

“What exactly did Holborn want from me?” Martha asked, frowning. “I told him all this before. Why did he send you?”

“Just standard procedure,” Ella lied. “Checking whether you might have seen the murderer.”

“Good lord, no. The murderer used a knife like any proper human being.” Martha shivered. “What I saw...”

“... was probably due to stress.” Ella rose from her seat, palming one of her knives. She should take care of the Shade right now. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Martha walked her out into the reception hall. The Shade stood by the counter. In the detention cell at the back she could make out the man she’d noticed before, holding onto the bars. A green bandana was wrapped around his head, and silvery hair hung around his gaunt face.

Him!
“Who’s that?”

Martha huffed. “Caught stealing from a car. Gave me a good run. Told you.”

So it was he who’d given Martha
‘a run for her money’
. She wondered how he’d let the clumsy officer capture him.

“You,” the man whispered, sounding tired. In the fluorescent light from the fixtures overhead, his eyes were a pale, crystal blue. “How did you—?”

“Hey,” Ella interrupted, not wanting Martha to hear about their past encounters. “What’s your name?”

He opened his mouth, but only hissed out a breath and his eyes widened. “
Vaettir.
”

Shades
. Ella turned.

The Shade was shuffling toward the holding cell. She stepped in its way, her knife ready. It reached out a clawed hand and Ella ducked and slashed, carving upward. The Shade shrieked as it flickered, showering her hand in ichor, and vanished.

“What was that?” Martha glanced around, eyes very wide. “What did you do?”

Ella wiped her knife and hand on her pants. She’d need to wash it, soon. “Nothing.”

Avoiding Martha’s disbelieving gaze, she turned back to the man. “So, what’s your name?”

“Finn.” His voice was a pleasant rasp. His knuckles were burned, red and blistered. Splashed with ichor most probably, like hers.

“Finn what?” He said nothing. “Where are you from Finn?”

He shook his head, looked away.

“Do you have papers? What about an ID?”

He pressed his lips together, jaw clenching.

Ella considered this, aware of Martha’s gaze burning at her back. He was a thief, and without papers. She didn’t have the authorization to take him out, but, what the hell, he’d saved her life — twice. And she wanted to ask him a few questions in private.

“Let him out, Martha.”

“What? I can’t do that, it’s against procedure—”

“I’m taking responsibility.” Ella still didn’t turn. “Okay?”

“He’s probably an illegal immigrant. Did David Holborn give permission for this?”

“Yes,” Ella lied. She’d deal with Dave later. She gave the man — Finn — an assessing look. He was watching her intently. “Now open the cell.”

Martha hesitated, as if waiting to hear it was a joke. Then she waddled over, keys jingling in her hand, and unlocked the door.

Finn stepped out. His clothes were a mess. His cargo pants were ripped and muddy, and the white t-shirt was stained so many colors she couldn’t begin to image what he’d rolled into. And he was barefoot. Ella shivered just by looking at him, but he seemed unaware of the cold. In fact, he didn’t seem very aware of anything. He swayed where he stood.

“Hey, careful.” She grabbed his arm and guided him toward an empty chair, surprised at how skinny he was. He’d moved so gracefully when he fought, she hadn’t noticed.

But when she pushed him down to sit, he resisted. “I need to go. My knives.”

“Do you have them?” Ella turned to Martha who sighed.

“Yeah, I got them.” Martha went to retrieve the two bowie knives from a locked drawer. She handed them over, scowling. “If this costs me my job here, or a promotion...”

Ella handed the knives to Finn who sheathed them at his sides. “It won’t.” She gestured for Finn to follow. “We’ll be on our way.”

***

Ella kept an eye on Finn as they exited the station, but he didn’t stumble and kept his gaze straight ahead. Wrapped in her leather jacket, with her boots and snug, warm pants, she felt cold just looking at him in his thin t-shirt and bare feet.

The first thing she did upon entering the car was turn on the heater. Finn belted himself in when she told him to. Sniffed suspiciously at the air, jerked when she turned on the radio.

“I’ll take you home,” she said. “Give me your address.” She waited, the heater blasting hot air inside the car.

Finn didn’t reply. His hands clenched in his lap, against the dirty fabric. He had long, graceful fingers, but they were scratched and covered in grime where the ichor hadn’t burned them. Traces of silvery lines rippled on his skin, like the ones she’d noticed on his forearms the first time.

“What are those? Tattoos?”

He shoved his hands under his armpits, hiding them.

“Thank you, by the way,” she said, staring at his profile, the slightly hawkish nose, the pale eyebrows drawn together over intense eyes. “For saving my ass. Did you just happen to pass by when the Shades attacked me?”

He grimaced. “I follow the thinning of the Veil.”

“Do you work for someone?”

He shook his head. Made sense. If he did, he wouldn’t need to steal, would he?

“Been hunting alone for a long time then?”

He nodded. So this was how the conversation would go. “Why are you here?” Ella asked.

“The Veil.”

Ah, monosyllables and repetitions. Fun
. And it couldn’t be that simple. She forced on a smile. “Hey, relax, I won’t bite, okay? I’m just going to take you home. What’s your address?”

He clenched and unclenched his hands, let out a breath. “Collin Park.”

“That’s not an address.” But she set off anyway. Maybe in Finn-speech that meant
‘Please drive me to Collin Park, I live nearby, thank you.’
Keeping one eye on the road, she shot him the occasional glance, hoping to catch a shift in his expression. “There was an attack there today. Heard about it?”

Again he said nothing and generally kept a sullen silence as she drove. She’d somehow expected her savior to be more interested in talking to her. But he didn’t seem curious at all, hadn’t asked a single question. His silent, forbidding presence grated on her taut nerves. She’d been used to Simon riding shotgun, grinning and cracking jokes, or recounting his day on their way to the gym or a bar.

She tried hard to stop thinking of Simon. She failed.

Collin Park came into view. Police cars were parked outside, and the area was cordoned off.

“Left,” he rasped, surprising her, and she turned into a narrow street with uniform buildings, modern concrete walls, chrome and glass. Offices and stores.

“You live here?” she asked, slowing down, craning her neck to look up at the reflections in the endless windows. “Finn?”

He opened the door and fell out of the moving car, somehow landing on his feet and staggering to the sidewalk.

“Finn, wait!” Damn the man and his stubbornness. She stopped the car, jumped out and scribbled the number of her mobile on one of her business cards. She crossed to him, pressed it into his hand. “I’m Ella Benson. Here’s my number.” He clutched it, eyes narrowing. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I owe you.”

“I don’t...” He looked down at the crumpled card. “I’m tired of this.” For just one second, his impassive facade crumpled and tears shimmered at the corners of his eyes.

“Of what, Finn? I can help—”

But he turned around and jogged down the street in an uneven lope. She started after him, but he was ungodly fast for someone who’d seemed so wobbly back at the station. Before she’d broken into a full-out run, he’d vanished into some alley.

Ella stopped. He didn’t want her after him, or he’d have told her something about himself — at least his real address. He didn’t want her help. It stung but it was his call.

She returned to the car, got inside and gripped the wheel hard. Thumped her forehead lightly on it. Nothing more she could do. She had Simon to find and her job to do. Hell, Missy needed to be fed, and Dave to be updated. Maybe not in that order.

Pulling off the sidewalk, she drove toward HQ. But she couldn’t shake off the unease, or chase away the image of the tears in his eyes.

***

Dave received the news of Martha’s unsuitability as Ella’s new partner with a grunt and a sigh, but didn’t seem put out, even though he stressed it would be temporary.
Yeah, whatever
. He still denied he knew why the Veil was thinning so fast. So Ella avoided him. Punching your boss in the face was bad form.
Probably
.

Later that night, when she’d finally curled up her sofa with a take-away burger and fries, an emergency call came through from another Bureau team and she found herself fighting Shades for the second time that day. More goblins, more horned trolls or whatever they were, and the team emerged from the encounter bruised and beaten.