Boreal and John Grey Season 1

by Chrystalla Thoma

  Shaking her head, she pulled off the boots, dropped them to the floor and went in search of a drink. Almost nothing left in her cupboards, but she found a bottle of Frangelico, sweet hazelnut liqueur, and damn if it wasn’t almost empty. She didn’t even bother looking for food in her fridge; nothing there, at least nothing that hadn’t come back as a zombie. It was time to go shopping. She made a face and sighed.

  Snagging the bottle, she settled back on the couch, propping her socked feet on the scratched coffee table. She took a swig and closed her eyes, smiling when Missy jumped on her legs and curled up, purring. “Hey, kitty. You won’t believe what happened today. I barely made it out alive...”

  And that was her last memory until her phone rang the next morning.

  ***

  “What do you mean, ‘gone’?” Ella wedged her phone between shoulder and cheek as she worked herself out of her pants. She reeked of sour sweat and bitter ichor, and she was covered from head to toe in dust from the construction site. No way was she going into HQ like that. “Have you checked his apartment? Simon tends to oversleep when he’s had a few too many.”

  “He’s gone, Ella,” Dave’s voice rumbled from the other end. He sounded tired. “We’ve looked everywhere. His girlfriend doesn’t know—”

  “He’s got a girlfriend? Since when?” She managed to pull off her tee and her bra without dropping the phone, but she stumbled over her sneakers. “Damn.” She limped to the shower. Where ichor had touched her, on her hands, arms and neck, the skin had blistered and reddened. It hurt like a bitch.

  “He’s nowhere. Just vanished.”

  Ella frowned as she turned on the tap, waiting for the water to run hot. “Maybe some family business or some such shit came up and he had to leave suddenly.” Which sounded implausible even to her own ears. Simon’s only family was his uncle, Mr. Greary, at the elderly home. She’d know if he had more relatives — right? If she had one friend and one friend only, that was Simon. He slept over sometimes, even had a pair of sweatpants and t-shirts in her closet. He didn’t keep secrets from her.

  Right. Like she knew he had a girlfriend.

  “Listen, Dave, I’ll be in before nine, okay?” Missy meowed from the door and she sighed. “Make it after nine. Then you can tell me everything you got.”

  Dave grunted and hung up.

  Where the hell was Simon? She called him, half expecting to hear his sleepy voice answering. After fifteen rings, she flipped the phone closed.

  Shit.

  She stood under the hot spray and scrubbed herself with her generic soap, something vaguely floral and chemical, watching the water run black down the drain. Some of it was dust, some ichor. The Grey tainted whatever it touched. Her clothes were holed and eaten. She’d need to buy new ones.

  She wanted a raise. And to punch Simon, but that would have to wait.

  Drying herself roughly with a towel, she thought again of the strange man. He knew how to fight. A professional hunter of Shades? Few did this on their own, mostly those who’d been caught in the mess, like most voyants. What to most people looked like a gathering darkness and wind, malfunctioning appliances and strange noises, to a voyant it showed its true form — twisted creatures caught between dimensions. What if the man had suffered from them and decided to strike back?

  Like you did? She pulled on clean jeans and a red t-shirt with a band logo and pulled on thick socks and boots. It was possible, she supposed. Or else he worked for someone else with a grudge against the Shades.

  Missy meowed and rubbed herself on Ella’s shins as she dished out canned food in the cat bowl. Still, Ella knew better than to try and pet her again. She’d found Missy in the midst of a gang of gangly boys who’d tied a can on her tail and had run after her, beating her and shouting. The kitten would need time to trust again.

  Don’t we all? Ella made sure there was water in the kitten’s other bowl, then pulled her hair up in a ponytail. “Stay put, Miss Meow,” she told the cat, glancing at the dark skies outside. What was with the freak weather? Making a round of the apartment, she made sure all windows were fastened shut. “Not the day to escape and wander outside, hear me?”

  The kitten flicked an ear in her direction and went on eating.

  With a sigh, Ella grabbed her backpack, her guns and knives, and stepped out. After locking up, she checked that her iron charms were in place, nailed outside the door. No way could Shades enter.

  Feeling better, she turned to go. Her neighbor’s door was ajar. Mike liked to air his apartment in the mornings, letting a draft go through. Said it cleared his head. She tiptoed by. Mike was always chatty and she wasn’t in the mood. At least he’d hung the charms she gave him — old horse shoes and four-leaved clover made of iron.

  Then she went in search of her car, her body vibrating with tension. Above, the clouds swirled in spiral patterns and faint clicking filled the air.

  The oncoming storm had nothing natural about it.

  Chapter Two

  Grey

  Ella found her car not far, in a side street. George had parked it right outside a bakery. The baker cast her dark looks as she approached. She pretended not to see him.

  Traffic was loose, and she made it to police HQ earlier than she’d predicted. The offices buzzed, phones rang, and when she stepped into the lift, she had to jostle for space. Everyone else filed out before sublevel three, though, leaving her to ride down the next four levels in quiet, broken only by her thoughts — the alley, the kobolds, the goblin, the shining symbols on the man’s arms.

  The lift dinged and she walked out into the bare-bulb lit corridor of the Paranormal Bureau. Hidden, unacknowledged, secret.

  With the veil thinning at this new speed, she wondered how much longer it would be kept a secret. Most calls the police HQ got nowadays were redirected to them. Camilla, their coordinator, had asked for an assistant with the phone. Of course, money being tight, she’d never gotten one. Which meant it was each for himself. You got a mission, you went and did it and came back to nurse your wounds. Simon called them the MB: The Masochists’ Bureau. Her mouth twitched as she rapped on Dave’s door. Mabel, his secretary, frowned at her from her desk.

  “Dave’s on the phone,” she said. She wore mascara so thick her eyes looked like two black moths had landed on her face.

  “Then I’ll wait,” Ella said, bypassed Mabel and entered Dave’s office. She closed the door behind her, ignoring Mabel’s protests.

  Dave swiveled his chair around, the receiver held at his ear in a white-knuckled grip. His face was pale with anger and his jaw clenched tight. He hummed.

  Ella sank in one of the plastic chairs and hooked a leg over her knee. Absently she scraped dried mud off her boot.

  “Yes, sir, I understand,” Dave said, his clipped tone belying his politeness. “Of course.” He listened for a few minutes longer, while Ella continued cleaning the mud from her boot, the pieces falling on the linoleum floor. Then he hung up and huffed.

  He gave the pile of dirt a pained look.

  “Finally done?”

  “Manners, Ella.”

  She rolled her eyes and straightened from her hunch. “Any news from Simon?”

  “I’m afraid not.” Dave rearranged a few heaps of documents on his desk. He placed two pens on top of a file, then changed his mind and lined them by his computer screen. He started humming again.

  It knotted Ella’s muscles with tension. “Dammit, Dave, what’s going on?”

  “Language, agent.”

  “Give me a break. We’re secret and officially don’t exist. Plus I was assaulted by some pretty nasty Shades last night, the attacks are increasing, and my fucking partner’s gone.”

  Dave scowled, flushing with anger. “Don’t push it, Ella. We’re informal most of the time, but you’re going too far.”

  So it was going to be one of those days, was it? “Fine. Sorry.”

  Her squad captain nodded and sat back. “As I said, Simon’s gone. Nobody knows where he is
. We’re filing a missing person report.”

  Jeez. The cold in Ella’s stomach intensified. “I’m sure he just forgot to let us know,” she said, “something must have come up—”

  “He’s gone, Ella.”

  She drew a shuddering breath. This couldn’t be happening. Hunting Shades, sending them back to the Grey had never been risk-free, but it hadn’t been that dangerous, either, not if you knew what you were doing. And Simon knew damn well what he was doing. Hell, he’d trained Ella.

  “Could be unrelated to the Shades,” she whispered.

  “Are you in full denial mode today?” Dave snapped. “What, you think a truck ran him over and nobody noticed to report it?”

  Denial, right. She nodded at the phone. “I need his girlfriend’s address.”

  “So you go poke and upset her more? We’ve asked her the questions that had to be asked.”

  “He’s my partner. I’ll ask my questions.”

  He sighed, then rattled off an address. She memorized it; she knew the place. “So, spill, Dave. What did the powers above say?”

  “About what?”

  “Don’t. Simon’s missing, and last night could have been my last. You owe me honesty.”

  “Wasn’t in the contract.”

  “Fighting goblins wasn’t in it either. But here we are.”

  Dave sighed. “You know as much as I. The Veil is thinning.”

  “Has been, for centuries, here and there, but never like this,” Ella said. “Why is it getting worse, fast? What’s up?”

  “I don’t know. I’d tell you if I knew.”

  “Come on. I saw your face when you were on the phone. What did they tell you?”

  “I said I don’t know.”

  She got up, anger swelling in her chest. “Fine. I’ll go talk to Greary, Simon’s uncle. He may give us a clue.”

  She expected Dave to say Greary wasn’t right in his head, that he’d checked all leads. But he didn’t.

  “Just swing by the downtown HQ afterward,” he said. “I want you to talk to the chief officer there, Martha.”

  “What for?”

  “She may be able to See the Shades. We need every single voyant we can find.”

  “What about Listeners?” Oracles most called them. Those who heard the whispers of the Shades through the Veil. “Since Anya left the Bureau, we haven’t hired anyone.”

  “Don’t you have a neighbor who’s an oracle? Ask him if he could help.”

  “Mike? He’s a hazard to himself. I can’t involve him in this.”

  “You were the one talking of oracles,” Dave said.

  Damn him. She turned to go.

  “Ella?”

  She stopped. “What?”

  “You’ll need a new partner.”

  It was a punch to the stomach. She fought not to bend over. “I’ll be fine.”

  “No you won’t. You need another voyant to fight by your side. Martha—”

  “I said I’ll be fine. Simon will be back.”

  “Well, you can’t fight solo while he’s away. Too dangerous.”

  “Then assign me someone until Simon is back.”

  “I will. Martha, as soon as you tell me she’s a Voyant.”

  Ella shook her head and strode to the door. “I said I’ll be fine on my own. And I’ll find Simon.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  “Simon will come back.” She let the door slam behind her and marched toward the lift. The walls pressed against her. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  ***

  Officers she barely knew cast her curious glances as she marched through the lobby and out of the HQ, her eyes burning. Dave, damn him, talked of Simon as if he was dead. He wasn’t. No way.

  Where the hell was he, then? Greary had to know something; Simon visited the old man often.

  People didn’t just vanish.

  Meet Greary. Find clues. Bring Simon back. Feed the cat. Fight the Shades. Make it through the day. Small goals.

  The institution was located in a small park of pines in the outskirts of town. It even sported a duck pond up front. She gave her name and signed a form at the reception desk. She put “family” in the small box and thought with unease that, from now on, she could well be Greary’s only visitor.

  No. Simon would return. She’d see to that.

  An unhappy-looking nurse led her through long corridors and left her in a sitting room with Greary and with stern instructions not to open any windows or doors and to notify the reception after leaving the room.

  The old man didn’t seem to notice Ella at first and she wondered if his mind was completely gone. Old age or Alzheimer’s, she couldn’t remember which. Simon hadn’t talked much about it. Greary sat by the French doors, looking out into the garden. A bare tree spread its branches outside, black against the overcast sky. Pale sunlight filtered through.

  “Mr. Greary, it’s Ella,” she tried. “Do you remember me? Friend of Simon’s.”

  The mention of the names seemed to rouse him. “Simon. Ah. He should’ve married, had kids. I always told him that.”

  Ella looked away, bit the inside of her cheek. Simon and her, they’d tried dating a year back, but it hadn’t worked out. Would it be any use telling the old man Simon had gone missing?

  “Yeah, well.” Something caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. She stepped closer to the window, into the frail sunlight. “Nobody could ever get to tell Simon what to do.”

  “Stubborn son of a bitch,” the old man agreed. “Like his mother, bless her soul.”

  Ella nodded; not that she’d ever met Simon’s mother. “When Simon last came to visit you, how was he?”

  The old man didn’t reply. He was staring outside. “Do you see them?” he asked, a little breathless.

  “See what?” The air was bright and clear. Sheets of light fell through the clouds.

  “His fingerprints,” he said and patted the blanket on his legs. “Everywhere.”

  Ella pressed her lips together. Was he talking of god? She couldn’t remember if Simon had said Greary was religious. “Where?”

  “John Grey.” Drool dripped on his chin. “Grey.”

  With the clouds spanning the sky, it was hard not to see grey. “Well, winter’s coming.”

  “Winter, yes.” He kept staring at the fogged-up glass panes and she followed his gaze. Someone had drawn a symbol, a small spiral. Flashes of darkness, a long road covered in snow. A winged shadow flying against the moon.

  “Where’s Simon?” Greary asked and she jerked back. He’d turned his gaze on her. A white film covered his eyes. Cataract. He was nearly blind.

  She blinked. “He had work. I came instead.”

  “Did he find what he was looking for?”

  At last, information. “What was he looking for?”

  “The soldiers...” He looked confused. He blinked and blinked, twisting his hands in the blanket. “The guards. The grey.”

  Deflated, she nodded. “Right. The guards.”

  “Did he?”

  “Did he what?”

  “Find them?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Greary. Did Simon tell you anything? Was he going somewhere?”

  “Simon... He always looked out for you.”

  “Yeah. He did.” Ella rubbed her eyes and turned to go. “I’ll come to visit you again soon, okay? Take care.”

  A nurse trailed her with a form to sign out as Ella strode through the lobby and out of the institution, heading back to her car. What a waste of time.

  Half-way to her car through the small park, she stopped. The air clicked around her, and her hair whipped without wind. A dark mist rose. She drew her gun and crouched behind a low fence.

  Two shapes formed, unfolding from the mist, and, good god, were those horns on their heads? They were goat-legged and hooved. Huge though, at least two heads taller than her, and twice as wide. Oh man, she hadn’t even had breakfast yet, and the day was shaping up pretty bad already.
r />   She bit her lip, clutching her gun to her chest. The clicking filled her ears. A theory said it was how Shades communicated, and expert linguists had been brought in to decipher it. They hadn’t cracked the code yet.

  Still, she strained her ears. What if these Shades knew what had happened to Simon? What if they spoke his name?

  The clicks grew louder as the Shades approached, their hooves clacking and mingling with their strange speech. How would ‘Simon’ sound in clickish? Simon was the one with the language skills. Simon...

  The clicks stopped. She blinked. The creatures sniffed, their faces wrinkled, and they gave a sort of screeching bellow. Then they launched themselves at her.

  Oh, crap. She stood up, firing bullet after bullet. They didn’t stop. She holstered her gun and drew her throwing knives. Dammit, she should have passed by the armory first. Narrowing her eyes, she threw the first knife. Missed. The creature moved too fast for a good target, but she managed to cut its cheek. The Shade hissed but kept coming.

  The other knife hit the other Shade right between the eyes and it fizzled and faded.

  Ella grinned.

  Then a hand landed on her shoulder, and she gasped, tried to turn around. Claws dug into her flesh, scraping the bone, and she struggled not to scream. She hadn’t seen this one creeping from behind.

  Ella went for her second knife, but suddenly she was airborne. She hit the shed wall with a force that knocked the breath out of her lungs. Dropping to her knees, grating them on gravel and twigs, she bent over, trying to suck in air. Ow. Her ribs and her shoulder blared pain, while her knee throbbed in time to her racing heart.

  More figures appeared from her right. Holy crap, how many were there, and what did they want? A snack, a voice in her head piped, and she hissed, getting to her feet. No, she didn’t feel like getting eaten today, or dying in general, not before finding Simon and bringing him back. His uncle needed him, hell, she needed him. The world was falling apart and she couldn’t go on without her friend and mentor.

  She lifted her knife, but the next blow threw her face-down to the ground. Pine needles scraped her cheek and neck, stung her arm. Her knife was gone, thrown out of her hand on impact. She blinked at the needle-covered ground, pine-green of course, and damn uncomfortable.