Boreal and John Grey Season 2 (30 page)

“What? God, no.” Not
really
, at any rate. “I know I can’t take good care of you—”

 His fingers shifted, brushing over her lips. “You take good care of me.”

“Not true.” Muffled.

“She’s your mother,” Finn said.

Yeah, no question about that, but... “So?”

“She’s not here for me.” Finn gave her a serious look. “She’s here for you.”

***

The soup was good, and sitting there, around the coffee table with their bowls was...nice, Ella supposed. Cozy.

Also weird, but she tried not to dwell on that. Finn’s skin was warming up at last, a light flushing rising to his cheeks, and Ella had to take the bowl out of his hands when his head began to droop.

Linda got up to go, whispering and making funny faces, and okay, Ella still had whiplash from the change in her mother. She didn't think it would last, either. Had to be a phase.

She’d gone to the bedroom to throw on her old cardigan, when a voice drifted over from the hall, a male bass. 

Dave?
That was two surprise visits in one evening.

Frowning, Ella slid back into the living-room. “Dave, what are you doing here?”

“Yes, coffee would be nice,” Dave groused, “and yes I’m fine, thank you, how are you?”

“Oh, cut the crap. You only drop by when something bad has happened.”

“Actually I just happened to be in the neighborhood.”

“And you thought you’d come by for coffee?”

Finn was watching the exchange from under lowered lashes, arms folded over his chest where he sat on the sofa.

“I heard Finn makes a mean pot of coffee,” Dave said and wagged his brows.

Scary.

Ella threw her hands up in the air. “Fine. Come on in. Have you found out anything about Jeff? How’s the dragon?”

“Dragon’s fine, sends her regards. No sign of Jeff Somesby, which could mean just about anything.” He waved a hand. “I take milk and sugar, by the way.”

Ella turned and headed to the kitchen, muttering under her breath. What was Dave doing? She wanted to grab him by the scruff of his long coat and punch him right in the face — for everything; for shooting Finn, for implanting living metal in his body, for lying.

Wanted to sit him down and ask him more questions, because he was the only one who might have answers.

She was driving herself crazy.

Just as she stepped over to the fridge to grab the milk, she heard her boss talking in a low voice. What the hell was he telling Finn?

Grabbing the sugar and the coffee pot, she went to stand at the living-room door. Finn was nodding at something Dave had said. He glanced at her, a flicker of his eyes. He was deathly pale.

Shit. Ella marched into the living room and placed the coffee on the table. “There you go. Can I help you with something, Dave?”

“No.” Dave gave Finn a long, hard look. “You don’t believe what I tell you, that I have your best interests at heart. So I don’t expect you to.”

“Really?” Ella got in Dave’s face and lifted her chin. “You’ve got something to say, you can say it to me.”

Dave shook his head. He nodded at the table. “That my coffee?” He gulped it down. “Thanks.”

 Ella turned to Finn who looked as if he’d seen a ghost. “What happened?”

“I have to be on my way,” Dave said, putting the cup down and smiling. “Good coffee, Finn. Thumbs up. Oh and by the way, I have set up two bodyguards for you. They’re standing outside, so holler if you need their help. They have instructions to follow you at a distance whenever you leave, so don’t shoot them, okay? Good day.”

And he left, pulling the door closed behind him.

Okay, she was glad for the bodyguards, but that had been weird much?

Ella waved a hand in front of Finn’s face. “Hey. What did he tell you? Finn.”

“He asked...” Finn blinked and frowned. “He asked about the cave in my dreams. Said you told him about it. Asked what else I remember.”

She took a step back, feeling as if she’d been sucker-punched. Dave had gone around her back and basically told Finn she’d betrayed his trust.

Finn’s grey eyes stared right through her, sharp and intent. Yet his voice was soft, barely more than an exhalation, when he asked, “What else did you tell him?”

“Finn, listen.” She swallowed, her throat dry. “You’d had that seizure in the street, and he’d called me to get you out of the car, and then he carried you and drove us home, and I had no proof of a transmitter or anything, and then—”

“What did you say?” Each word hard and jagged.

“That I can’t share your dreams. That I can’t affect them. And that it’s probably the reason your power isn’t growing.” She wiped her hands down her pants. “I, um. Did I say I’m sorry? Because I am. But I don’t have anywhere else to turn for help.”

He shot to his feet and limped across the living room before she had a chance to say another word.

“Wait!” She rushed after him, hurrying out into the corridor, ready to stop him from breaking more doors.

Silence. Finn stood with his back to the wall. His hair fell in his face, but his eyes glittered through, angry and a little wild. When he saw her, he thumped his fists back into the wall — and the scary thing was that he left indents, sending small clouds of white dust into the air.

Ella waited, ice trickling down her spine. She’d never had his anger — the fury that made him put his fist through doors and walls — turned fully on her. “God, I’m so sorry.” Apologizing a hundred times wouldn’t undo the damage, would it? “I just have no clue what to do next, and that seizure really scared me. If anything had happened to you...” She shook her head.

Finn lifted her chin higher, his eyes narrowing to slits, his lips peeling back.  “I told you he can’t help me.”

“You did. I know. But If I have to choose between Dave making you stronger to use as his tool, and letting you die or be kidnapped by the Shades, goddammit, I’d always choose Dave. When you’re strong you can fight Dave back, but not before.”

The air rippled and she took another step back. Between them, the air boiled. Christ.

The Gate stretched like a mirror, bisecting the corridor, distorting Finn’s features. It was one of those ‘closed’ Gates he could create, like a glass pane through parts of Aelfheim became visible without allowing access. Snow fell inside the mirror, thick flakes fluttering, swirling in a spiral.

“Can we talk?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice steady. Finn’s image was disappearing behind the Gate, and Ella wondered what would happen if she touched it. “Like, face to face?” She bit her lip. “Damn, Finn, I can’t do this on my own. I can’t even feed you, keep you from getting hurt. I don’t know how to do this, this magic stuff... I was trained to fight the Shades, not to move the threads or change other people’s memories. And I...” God, it was so hard to admit. “I’m so fucking scared. That one day I’ll be too late.”

The Gate shimmered, growing opaque, and began to fade.

Finn was staring at her, his eyes wide, still glowing with magic. Then he lowered his gaze. He tilted his head to the side, blew silvery strands off his face.

The air cleared and stilled.

Ella held her breath.

“He said you’re pissed with him,” Finn said, his voice down to a whisper.

“I am.”

“He said he didn’t implant the transmitter. Said he put a tracker in my leg.”

She nodded, staring at the tiles. It was like a reversal of roles — Finn talking, her barely answering.

“He wants to meet with someone from the Organization to talk about what I remember.”

She looked up. “You’ll do it?”

He let out a long breath. “I think... you were right to tell Dave.”

A breath went out of her. “You won’t kill me today, then? Or do you need to sharpen your knives first?”

“My knives are always sharp.” One corner of his mouth lifted, then the other.

A Finn smile, faint and yet bright. Real. He put out his hand and she took it, let him pull flush against him, pressed against his booming heart.

“I’ll go along,” he whispered against her hair. “But I still only trust you.”

“I hope you won’t regret it,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, “and god, I’m glad.”

Chapter Seven

Time

Finn pulled her into the bedroom like a man on a mission. She was still thinking of Dave’s backhanded move and the mess she was supposed to untangle, when Finn’s mouth crushed hers and her mind shut down.

He tugged on the hem of her shirt and she raised her arms, letting him take it off. She did the same for him and ran her hands over his hard chest, mapping the scars, the scabbed wounds and bruises.

Not letting her time to have her fill, he pushed her back until she fell on the bed.

Whoa.
He was in a hurry. Frantic, almost. His lips were on her throat, her breasts, as he tore at the straps of her bra, snapping them.

“Hey...” Ella tried to catch her breath as he lay on top of her, aroused and shaking. “Slow down.”

He buried his face in her neck, shuddering, and his movements stopped. God he smelled good — intoxicating, his light musk of arousal mixed with the scent of clean soap. She brushed her fingertips over the scars running down his spine and he gasped.

“Let me,” she whispered and gently pushed him off, rolled him on his back. She pressed by his side and pushed his draw-string pants down, holding his bright gaze. There was a question in it and she smiled at him as she trailed her fingers down his flat stomach, inching toward his hard length.

And wrapped her hand around it.

Finn gasped and surged into her touch. He was so goddamn beautiful, laid out bare for her, his body straining upward, his hands balling in the sheets to keep still.

“I want you,” he whispered. “I don’t... I don’t know...”

“Don’t know what?” She tightened her hold and grinned when he groaned and arched into her hand.

“What you like.” He licked his lips, panting, and watched her from hooded eyes. “Don’t know much about such things.”

“Not much hook-up in the snowed plains back home, was there?” She snickered, fearing for a moment she’d gone too far, but Finn’s smile returned; lazy. Dangerous.

“Hook-up,” he whispered.

Oh god, when he said it like that... “Or maybe the
aelfar
aren’t into baby making? Maybe you grow out of flower buds or something?”

“Mm.” Finn’s eyes were heavy-lidded, his hair fanning around his head, soft and bright.

She released his hardness and trailed her fingers lower, exploring, coaxing a whimper from Finn’s throat. “I love everything you do to me,” she said, and meant it. “I want to touch and kiss you everywhere, to know every inch of you. That gives me great pleasure.”

And god, she could spend days looking at him. A velvet sofa, flames in a fireplace, a rug and Finn laid out before her like an exotic animal, some sort of arctic lion, magnificent, muscles straining in each limb as he stretched—

Finn twisted and flipped her on her back, knocking the air from her lungs. He leaned over her before she caught her breath, his arms solid barriers on either side of her head, the ends of his hair teasing her skin. Closing in, he trailed his lips over her jaw, leaving a path of heat.

Then his hands unfastened her belt and pants and slid them down her legs. He knelt, looking up at her. 

“Finn? What are you...?” 

“Not much hook-up back home.” A wicked gleam entered his eyes as he bent forward until his lips brushed her jaw. “But I’m learning,” he whispered against her skin, making her shiver. 

He was, no doubt about it, she thought as he set about to prove it.

Wow.

***

The dreamscape was deserted and silent, not even wind whistling down the gorge. Somewhere up high, against the soft clouds, a dark bird of prey was circling.

The elves stood in rows, facing them, their eyes wide, glistening with fear. They wore a uniform, white leggings and tunics, and pale grey jackets with hoods, sturdy grey boots.

The same Finn was wearing. He faced them and held the gun in both hands, sighting down the barrel.

Ella could only watch, frozen.

He wouldn’t. He didn’t.

Only this was his memory and he seemed about to.

Ella reached for Finn, her mouth opening to shout for him to stop.

A sound like hail rang in the quiet, and the gun in Finn’s hands flashed with a rainbow of colors, like a prism.

Blood spattered on the snow. The bodies fell, one after the other, folding down in the snow like puppets whose strings had been cut.

The gun clattered to the ground and a moment later Finn dropped to his knees. A choked sound left his lips.

He reached out and touched a young elven man’s shoulder, an elven woman’s cheek.

“
Daudr ok blod
,” Finn whispered. “Systkin.”

Death and blood. Friends.

She knelt next to him, a different cold emanating from deep inside her. “Why?”

“Done,” Finn whispered simply and let the gun fall to the frozen ground.

***

Ella lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her heart thundering. Finn had his back to her. He wore a sleeveless tee that left his shoulders bare. His starburst mark seemed to glimmer.

Goddammit, Finn. Why?

Had he gone mad for a while back there? Had the Aesir broken him in that cave and he’d gone on a rampage, killing his friends? Had his friends wronged him, betrayed him somehow?

Did it make the act of cold-blooded murder forgivable?

Jesus.

Finn muttered something and rolled over to face her. His lashes fanned on his cheekbones like silver filigree and his eyes moved behind his lids.

Still dreaming. She leaned closer, inhaling his sweet-spicy scent. His lips looked so soft.

“Shit.” She rolled away and swung her legs off the mattress. Her toes curled against the cold floor.

She just needed a moment to think; to clear her head.

Because deep inside she’d known, hadn’t she? It didn’t take a genius to connect the gun in his hand with the corpses lying on the plain — but why would he kill his comrades?

“Ella?” Finn rasped.

She glanced over her shoulder.

Finn was blinking sleepily, cheekbones flushed with sleep. His gaze found her and settled on her face. Then his eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

“Do you remember?” The words tore from her mouth like jagged shards of glass. “What happened on the plain?”

His pale brows knitted. “I don’t...”

“You killed them.”

He sat up, a wince crossing his features. “What are you...?” He stilled so suddenly, it was as if time had stopped. The blood drained from his face.

“Why did you?”

“I can’t remember,” he said hoarsely.

“Did someone command you to? You once told me, in your dream, that you’d been sent there. Were you sent to kill them? Did they betray you?” She bit her lip. “Dammit, Finn, try to remember.”

He swallowed hard, his throat clicking. “They were my friends. I can’t...” His face greyed. “
Faen.
”

Suddenly he was out of bed, stumbling toward the bathroom, bare feet slapping on the tiles. She thought she should go after him, yet was frozen on the spot. She had to be in shock, she thought — but then why did she feel like a sleaze, standing there as the sounds of retching reached her?

Shit shit shit.
She wanted to hurl, too. Her stomach was twisted up in knots.

He’d killed people. He’d killed his friends. What would you do in such a case? What could you say?

A dream-memory, a memory around which his mind had built a wall, blocking everything that had happened.

For a reason.

A heavy conscience.

Now what?
When she’d found out he was an elf, she took it in her stride. Then she found out he was John Grey and accepted it wasn’t his fault.

But this?

She forced her feet to move. She walked to the bathroom and stopped at the door.

Finn was bent over the porcelain bowl. He wasn’t heaving anymore, though his face was pale and clammy. The old scars on his back glinted like molten metal, and the newer ones were angry cuts scattered across his shoulder blades.

She took a step inside and his eyes flicked sideways, finding her.

Ella slid down the doorjamb and leaned her head back. So tired. So confused. She looked down at her hands. They shook.

Finn wasn’t a killer.

Or was he? He’d killed the controller of the huge machine that had fallen through the Gate. He’d been a soldier back in Aelfheim. Sure he’d killed.

Not lightly, though. She recalled the guilt he’d felt over the Gates he opened, the victims caused by the Aelfheim wolves and dragons. What had happened to make him kill these people he knew and obviously liked?

You don’t really know him
, she reminded herself.

Yeah, but she did know him in all the things that mattered. Which made this all the more confusing.

“Finn, I need to know...” She heaved a frustrated sigh. “Did they force you to kill your friends?” She’d believe it in a heartbeat.
Please say they did.

But Finn shook his head. “I wanted to... wanted to kill them.”

Damn it all to hell.
“We have to talk to Dave,” she said faintly.

Finn twisted until he leaned sideways against the toilet, closing the lid. His jaw was clenched hard.

“We need to discuss this with Dave,” she repeated. “Maybe this memory is a clue to help us untangle this mess.”

Finn grimaced. “And then?”

And then... She closed her eyes as nausea rose again. It felt as if her stomach was trying to crawl up her throat. “Then we’ll see.”

That was all she could promise.

***

“He killed whom?” Dave finally decided to answer his phone, but didn’t sound too pleased.

“He killed elves. His comrades in arms.” Ella rubbed her forehead as she paced the living room, fighting the urge to start kicking at the furniture. A good thing Finn was in the bedroom.

In fact, no, it wasn’t good. Finn was sitting there, in the dark, in his own personal hell, staring at nothing. She bet she knew what he was seeing instead of the bedroom wall. Blood and bodies and unblinking eyes in the snow.

Ella gave in and kicked the sofa.

Didn’t make her feel any better.

“Killing elves? That’s what he’s been dreaming about?”

“That’s his
memory
, Dave. It’s a real memory.”

Dave was silent for a beat. Ella could imagine him obsessively arranging and rearranging the pens on top of his desk at the Bureau. “Tell me more,” he finally said. “What else does he dream about?”

“There’s a cave where he’s being tortured by an Aesir commander. He’s hanging over a table, and the elven queen is talking to this commander through a sort of Gate. They’re doing something to his back. He’s in a lot of pain.” She swallowed hard. “And then the dream passes into another memory — a plain with a watch tower and there are elves marching in the snow. Finn has a gun and...”

“And?”

“And kills them. Shoots them dead.” She exhaled. There, she’d said it. “They’re elves he knew in the army.”

“Okay. What else?”

“They said they have the Weaver.” 

“Fucking hell.” Dave hummed. “That’s a catastrophe waiting to happen. Did they say anything else?” 

“There’s someone whispering,” she said. “About the Divine Frenzy.”

“The Frenzy? They said that?”

“Yeah, they—”

“What did they say about it?”

“They said it’s his duty.” She shook her head. “His duty to obey the divine laws, to taste the Divine Frenzy.”

“Taste the Frenzy...” Dave didn’t hum as much as rattle by this point.
Worrisome.
“I’ll talk to someone who might have an idea and get back to you.”

“Someone? Who are you—”

“Does he dream of other stuff? Apart from being held in that cave and killing his comrades?”

“Sometimes,” Ella said. “But not consistently. These are the two recurring memories. The cave and the plain.”

“Good. I’ll call you.”

“Dave, when—?”

“Relax, agent. Stress isn’t good for the heart, or so I’m told. Now we’re done keeping secrets, we can get somewhere.”

And before she could reply, he hung up.