Boreal and John Grey Season 1
Page 10
He’d probably overdone it; after last night he should be resting, not fighting Shades. She’d take him home, check the wound in his side, make sure it was not bleeding.
Then she remembered the paper with the code in her pocket. “Shit. I need to pass by the library. Won’t be a minute.”
Finn stirred briefly, blinked twice and dozed off again, the lines of his face smoothing out. He slumped against the safety belt.
She smiled, not sure why. “You’re a good partner,” she informed him, knowing he probably couldn’t hear, and forced her attention back on the street. “You really have my back.”
Fighting the Shades with him by her side made her feel light and strong and able to do just about anything. If only Simon was alive...
Spirits dampened, she sped across the city, aware she was following the last route Simon had taken on the day of his death.
Chapter Three
F+frildia
Stevenson Library was housed together with a number of real estate companies and lawyers’ offices in an old neoclassical building decorated with pillars and gargoyles. Poplar trees lined the wide sidewalk and a parking lot sign flashed. Full, of course.
She parked in a street side. The moment she opened the car door, Finn came awake with a jerk, hands going to his knives.
“Hey,” Ella said, zipping up her jacket. “How are you feeling?”
He struggled with the seat belt as if he didn’t know what it was. His borrowed shirt and jacket were covered in ichor. He reeked of it, bitter and toxic.
She put a hand on his shoulder, pushed him back. He got that confused look again that stirred emotions inside her chest, the warm fuzzy kind she didn’t know what to do with. “Tell you what. Why don’t you stay here and sleep a bit longer. I’m just going to check out a book and I’ll be right back.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“They won’t let you in like this, so why try?” She glanced outside at the falling snow. “After I’m done here, we go to your place so you can change into clean clothes, all right?”
Before he could protest again, she climbed out and closed the door. He blinked at her from inside the car, still belted in, pale hair catching the light.
Reluctantly she left him and entered the building.
The stucco and pillars of the facade continued inside, at least as far as the lobby where a bored-looking guard gave her half a glance. She passed him and scanned the building map. Escalators led up to the sections of literature, history, politics and law. Other signs pointed to poetry, folklore, women’s studies and medicine. Then she spotted the place she needed to be and headed off. A moment later she was on the elevator heading down to the medieval literature section.
Somehow she always ended up underground.
The librarian’s name was Miss Cobble, according to the tag pinned to her lapel. She glanced at the paper Ella handed her, at the book code penned in Simon’s neat handwriting, and shook her head. She pushed her golden-rimmed glasses up on her tiny nose. They slid down immediately. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have it?” Disappointment swamped Ella.
“Oh, it’s here. But I can’t lend it out.”
“Fine. May I see it?”
“Do you have a membership card?”
Ella’s patience had been thin to start with; it was see-through now. She fished out her badge and shoved it in the woman’s face. “How about this one?”
“Huh.” The librarian gave her a disapproving look. “Not a week ago this young man came and did exactly the same. Flashed his police badge around, trying to impress me.”
Ella swallowed. “This young man... Was his name Simon? Simon Esterhase?”
“Esterhase, yes.” She looked down her nose at Ella.
Ella turned away. Her eyes stung.
“I’ll make an exception this time,” the librarian said, “but bear in mind that without a membership card you can’t take the book out.” She led the way to the shelves, the paper with the code clutched in a small hand. “What is the sudden interest in this story anyway? We only have a copy because we specialize in Norse literature.”
“What is it about?”
“You want a book and don’t even know what it’s about,” the librarian grumbled. “It’s a saga relating a visit from the aesir and the arrival of the aelfar.”
Ella’s heart beat faster. “And the title?”
“Here.” Miss Cobble pulled out a thin volume and handed it to Ella. “Grarssaga. The saga of Grey.”
The hell? “The saga of John Grey?”
“Yes, I believe the name is mentioned.”
Breath caught in her throat, Ella studied the faded green cover of the book. John Grey, the one the Shades couldn’t stop talking about. Damn it, Simon, why didn’t you tell me what you knew?
She flipped the book open, leafed through it. No note from Simon fell out, no mysterious symbols. It would’ve been too easy. She sighed. Had she made a mistake? Had Simon not meant for her to see it?
It didn’t matter. It was the saga of John Grey. Answers lurked within its pages. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take it with me.”
“I said you can’t—”
“People’s lives depend on it.”
“On an old Norse saga?” The librarian lifted her chin and huffed, clearly not buying it.
Ella held the old woman’s gaze, fury building in her chest. “Yes.”
“I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“No,” Ella agreed, “you don’t.”
***
Coming out of the library building, Ella squinted, momentarily blind. Thick snow drifts swirled by, obscuring the trees and other buildings. Crazy weather. Last she’d checked, it was still September, change of the season into autumn when the leaves turned pretty colors and the sky was a perfect blue.
Not this year, it seemed; winter had entered all at once. She thought of Finn in his thin borrowed clothes and shivered. That had to be rectified.
Her car was covered in snow, the windshield opaque, so she couldn’t see him. Yet, as she trudged to the driver’s side, she thought she saw swarms of white moths fluttering on the air.
But it was just the snow, spinning in eddies. Spirals in spirals, like the afterimages of a dream. Shaking her head, she opened the car and slid into the dim interior, pulling the door closed.
A rustle, and a cold blade pressed against her neck. Her heart jolted and she opened her mouth, but a hand clapped over it. Scent of spice and honey.
Sliding her gaze sideways, she found Finn’s face. His eyes were wide and unfocused, as if he was sleepwalking.
Her lips moved against the rough texture of his palm. “Finn?”
Seconds slipped by.
Then the hand lifted and the pressure of the blade left her. Finn blinked, looked around, then tensed again. “Where is this?”
“I was at the library. You must have fallen asleep again.”
“The snow.” He gestured with his knife at the white surrounding them.
“Freak weather. Happens.”
“It’s a Gate opening.”
She gaped at him. “Are you saying...”
“The snow is coming through.” He scowled. “And it won’t be all that passes.”
A Gate. Should she believe it, believe he was right? He spoke of scaly wolves and Gates, but where was the proof?
It was ice-cold inside the car. She revved the engine and flicked on the heater. The wipers whirred against the windshield, letting in hazy light.
Finn seemed to glow, too, a faint luminescence that rose from his skin like mist. Ella squinted. His hair glimmered as if Christmas lights were caught in them, tiny dots of brilliance, and his face burned. Designs swirled on his hands.
Then he turned away and the glow faded.
What the hell had that been? She’d seen the glowing lines on his hands and forearms before, but never so bright. Her hand had gripped her gun; she let it go and reached toward Finn, to shake the truth out of him.<
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He made a small noise in the back of his throat and a shudder went through him. His lips looked blue. Fuck. Glowing or not, he was freezing his ass off.
Shrugging off her jacket, she threw it over him and cranked up the heating. “Do you have warm clothes at home?”
Finn scowled, although he made no movement to push off the jacket covering him. “I’m fine.”
“It’s freaking snowing.” She gave the thick flurries outside a pointed look. “How about a jacket, mittens, a scarf? Thick pants?” Or how about you tell me why you were glowing like a goddamn firefly a moment ago?
Finn said nothing. She thought back at his dirty clothes; they’d looked like he’d slept in them for days. “Do you have a place to stay?”
He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he repeated.
They really had to work on Finn’s definition of ‘fine’. “You were sleeping outside, weren’t you?”
Finn shrugged.
“What happened to you?” She looked at his hands which shook against his legs. “What about your family?”
He snorted. “Family,” he spat.
Oh, that good. Well, she could relate; her family was as dysfunctional as it went. She pressed her lips together, swallowing the questions she really wanted to ask. The snow swirled outside. It was going to get much chillier. And snow or not, no way was she leaving Finn out in the cold.
“You’re coming home with me.”
Finn didn’t look at her. “No need.”
“You’ll freeze to death.” She bit back a groan of frustration. Too stubborn or too proud? “Come on, Finn. For my sake.”
“No.” The word was pushed through chattering teeth.
“Listen.” She pulled out of the parking space, the wipers swishing against the glass. “You’re doing your part. Helping me, keeping me alive, giving me information.” She licked her dry lips. “This is the least I can do.”
When he didn’t protest again, she smiled.
***
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.
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...?”