Boreal and John Grey Season 1 (9 page)

They made their slow way back to her car, Finn limping by her side, one arm slung over her shoulders. His breath wheezed with every step.

He smelled of blood and ichor, and some sort of sweet spice. She didn’t know much about him — not her fault that he was tighter than a clam — but she was somehow quite certain that allowing her to help meant he’d reached the end of his impressive endurance. The way he sucked a sharp, shallow breath from time to time made her suspect cracked ribs, and as for the limp... She’d have to see when they got out of there.

If Finn let her. His scowl, when she propped him against the car to get the door open, couldn’t possibly get any darker.

She froze in the process of reaching out to help him, meeting his glare. “Fine, man.” She lifted her hands. “See, no touching. Only wanted to help.”

Arms folded across her chest, she stood by as he struggled inside. She never thought she’d meet anyone more stubborn than Simon, but there he was. More stubborn and more pissy. Worse than a cat on a bad hair day.

When he was finally seated — shaking and sweating, pale as a ghost, and all his fault for being so pig-headed — she closed the door non-too gently and went around to get behind the wheel.

“So, Finn.” She revved the engine, eyed the gas indicator. Still enough to go on. “This time you’ll tell me your address, and no squirming about it, hear me? You can hardly walk, and you’ll probably land in bed for a couple of days.”

He grunted, cradling his swollen arm against his chest.

“So where are we heading?”

“Bradley Street.” His voice had gone from rasp to a barely audible whisper. The marks of the goblin’s hand around his neck were livid, purple and crimson. “Behind the stadium.”

Cheap area, not too safe at night. Ella nodded and drove out into the avenue, keeping an eye out for more Shades. “Buckle up.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, staring out the window as they rolled through the business district and down by the river.

“How did they get you this time?” she asked. “You need more weapons, man. A gun, for starters, and some throwing knives. Better hit them from a distance if you can.”

Lamps by the riverside sent yellow and gold rippling on the water below. A festooned restaurant-boat was moored at the wharf, people dancing inside.

“I’m glad you called me,” she said, not expecting a reply. “I was worried, you know. Someone said they saw you, and that you were hurt. My partner has gone missing, and I just...”

She tried to keep the words back. Finn was a stranger and she had no business pouring her heart out to him. Then again, they’d been bound by circumstances; he’d saved her, she’d saved him. That had to count for something. “I’m just happy you’re okay. How do you know where the Veil is thinning every time? I always have to wait for some passerby to call.”

The buildings spaced out, the spaces in between filling with empty lots where the homeless huddled around fires in metal bins. The stadium loomed on their right, metal gates locked and covered in old posters, the street outside littered with trash from the last match.

“Where do we go from here? Finn?” She turned to find him slumped over. “Finn.” She braked, and he slid forward even further, limbs lax, head lolling. “Damn.”

She parked at the street side and unbuckled. Turning in her seat, she pulled the lever and pushed the seat down so he lay more or less flat. She didn’t like the way he sprawled bonelessly there, his lips white in the meager light from outside, and his skin cold. Her nerves hummed.

First things first. Pulse
. She found it beating in his throat, a little too fast but steady, and she relaxed.
Okay. Bleeding?
His shirt was definitely sticky with something. She turned on the map-reading lights overhead and examined her fingers.
Red. Blood
. And it was fresh.
Dammit, Finn
.

She lifted the shirt and her breath hissed out. Four parallel gashes in his side, deep and ugly, bleeding steadily into the waistband of his pants. They looked like they’d been made by goblin claws. How long ago? No wonder he’d passed out.

Her medic kit was under her seat; standard supplies. She grabbed the antiseptic spray and cleaned out the cuts. He’d need stitches, but butterfly bandages would have to do for now. She patted the wounds dry with clean gauze, then forced her hands to stop shaking and tore the package, fishing out the bandages. Applying them was tricky as the gashes were parallel and quite close to each other. Each cut took two Steri-strips to stay closed, and then, to her relief, the hemorrhage finally slowed.

Sitting back, she packed gauze on top of everything and taped it in place. Then she pulled down the shirt and buckled Finn in. Tried to organize her thoughts. Stared at the blood staining the car seat, the crimson painting her hands, and Finn’s slack face.

The hospital
. He’d need antibiotics, maybe even a transfusion.

Feeling better for having a goal, heart thudding against her breastbone, she executed a perfectly illegal U-turn and stepped on the gas. She sped back the way they’d come, not seeing anything but the road ahead, then drove down Brisbane Avenue toward the closest medical center. Everything would be okay. She only had to take him there—

Finn mumbled something. A glance showed her his eyes moving rapidly under his lids. Was he waking up?

“Finn?”

He blinked, pale lashes lifting to reveal slivers of blue.
Good sign
.

“Hey, can you hear me?” He didn’t seem to focus. “Grunt once for yes, twice for no, okay?”

He groaned. Was that a yes? Then he tried to sit up and she threw out a hand to stop him. “Stay down. Are you hurt anywhere else, somewhere I can’t see? Your stomach? Your back?” She waited, but Finn only managed to look pissed, even lying there like that. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.”

Finn fumbled for the lever and pulled the back of his seat upright. His face paled alarmingly and he grimaced.

“What are you doing? You’ll start bleeding again.”

“I’m fine,” he rasped, swaying. His head dipped forward.

“Sure you are.” She put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You passed out. We’re going to the hospital.”

“No hospital.” He pushed her hand off, the stubborn bastard.

“Damn you,” she muttered. “I won’t let you die because of some stupid notion of macho I-don’t-know-what. When you need help, you accept it, okay?”

 “No hospital,” he repeated, panic in his eyes, and dammit all if he didn’t unbuckle himself and try to open his door as they moved at 70 miles an hour.

She grabbed his arm again and hoped to hell it wasn’t broken. “Don’t you dare. I fought three Shades to save your ass. You have to get yourself checked out. Those cuts could get infected.”

“I’m okay.”

“
‘Okay’
as in
‘not dead yet’
?” The silence stretched, but at least he wasn’t trying to jump out of a moving car anymore. Good, because she really needed to keep an eye on the road as well. “Are you concerned about your lack of papers? Or money? I’ll take care of that. You’ll be okay.”

“No.”

An ice-cream parlor flashed with festive, multicolored lights. She parked outside and turned to him. “Finn...”

“Please,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “I just need a place to sleep tonight. Anywhere.”

“God, Finn...” Her head pounded. “I didn’t save you from the Shades to let you die of blood loss or infection, do you understand?”

He nodded, still not looking at her. “No dying. Understood.”

That made her smile in spite of herself. She sighed. “Okay. You’re crashing at my place, so I can still drive you to a doctor if you get worse overnight.”

“Not your place.”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“The Shades...”

“My place has full charm protection.” She tsked. “And the Shades are after me, too, so it won’t make any difference if you sleep out on the sidewalk, okay? So, my place, take it or leave it.”

He said nothing, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Then he nodded again.

***

For the first time she could recall, she spotted an empty parking space right outside her building.
A miracle
. She fished her dead mobile phone from the back seat, shoved it in her pocket, and went around to help Finn. He accepted her aid with his usual grace, glaring and stiffening under her touch. They really ought to have a little talk about manners.

Then again this was the man who’d saved her ass twice. Maybe she could be a bit lenient.

So she stood back and waited, counting under her breath. Mulishly, he stepped outside the car on his own.

A look of surprise crossed his face, followed by a grimace of pain. She made a grab for him and he leaned against her, shaking, lips pressed together tight. She winced in sympathy.
Yeah, baby, didn’t you know?
When the adrenaline faded, you felt every bruise and cut.

His lean body was heavier than she’d expected. Skinny but wiry, packed with hard muscle. It was a good thing she hit the gym regularly, although her back and ribs protested. His bad leg folded under him twice, and she practically had to haul him all the way up to her apartment. By the time they reached her door, she was sure she’d wrenched both her shoulders, and her knee ached.

Damn man, refusing to go to the hospital. Why had she listened to him? Using every swearword she knew, she fumbled with the key one-handed, managed to unlock the door, and shoved Finn inside. He made no sound as he stumbled inside, fetching up against the wall.

Standing by the door, she kept an ear out in case anything had followed them, but no clicks sounded and no eldritch breeze blew.
Good enough
. She kicked the door closed and dragged Finn into her living room. He staggered to her battered sofa and sank against the cushions with a grunt. He really looked like crap.

She considered his clothes, probably worn for days and weeks, and now steeped in blood and ichor. His dirty feet were still bare, dirty and reddened, the soles black with grime. Asking him to hop into the shower didn’t seem like a good idea right then, not when he seemed to cling to consciousness tooth and nail.

Ah well, she’d clean up the sofa later, and disinfect the throw rug. Burn it, in fact.

“Stay here,” she said and he shot her a dirty look.
What?
It wasn’t like he was going anywhere in that state, was it? “I’ll be right back.”

He still glared daggers.
Jeez
. She was only trying to make him comfortable. Missy hissed from the doorway to her bedroom, back arched and ears flat against her head.

Oh great, two pissy persons in her apartment. “Missy, come with me.”

The kitten glowered at Finn who seemed unaffected, or perhaps too tired to scowl back. Ella pulled two blankets from her bedroom closet, and after a moment’s thought, she grabbed Simon’s sweatpants and a t-shirt. She’d wash them afterward; Simon would never know.

 She returned to find Missy still hissing at Finn.
What the hell, kitten?
“Sorry. She usually doesn’t mind visitors.”

Finn stared at her, as if not understanding the words.

“Here.” She offered the sweatpants and t-shirt. “Take off your clothes, they’re wet and bloody. Put these on. I’ll be back in two minutes.”