Boreal and John Grey Season 1

by Chrystalla Thoma

  “He’s under my payroll now.” Dave jabbed a finger at Finn. “If he’s military, I want to know. I don’t like secrets.”

  “Dave.” Ella took his arm and pulled him a few steps away. “He’s just fought off two wolves, killed one, saved a bunch of lives, and he’s not even steady on his feet. He hasn’t had any downtime at all since yesterday. Give him a break.”

  “Now you’re telling me how to do my job?” Dave’s face flushed red with anger. “I’m your goddamn boss!”

  “Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “But he’s my partner, and truth be told, I need him.”

  Chapter Five

  Drekar

  The place crawled with police. Yellow tape was wrapped around poles and posts, marking the crime scene. Martha was calling out orders, cordoning off the streets and alleys radiating from the square to keep gawkers out.

  The engines of helicopters flying overhead tore the air apart and created vortexes of snow. There were police helos and those of news stations, come to cover the story. News vans were arriving, but they were stopped before they reached the square. Journalists argued with police officers, trying to sneak through. Cameras flashed. Ambulance sirens wailed. EMTs were gathered around those wounded. A tent had been erected over them to keep the snow out. The dead, already zipped in black bags, waited to be taken to the morgue.

  Ella rubbed her aching ribs. Nothing broken, the EMTs had assured her, but she’d be bruised black and blue come tomorrow.

  Could have been worse. She could’ve lost a limb, or even died. If Finn hadn’t been there...

  She turned to look at him where he knelt in the snow, cleaning his knives, his bandana drawn low over his eyes. An EMT approached to check on him and he glared until she retreated to a safe distance. He went back to his task, his hands red and chafed, blood trickling from a cut in his cheek down to his jaw. He didn’t seem to feel it or care.

  Same old, same old.

  Meanwhile, Dave paced in the snow, vibrating with controlled anger. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered. “If the Gates are open...”

  “Dave, the Gates are open. You saw the wolves.”

  “But what about fairy rings? Lights in the sky? What about the signs?” He growled. “Dammit all.”

  “So what’s the plan?”

  “Plan? We never planned for anything like this. The Gates weren’t supposed to open again. Haven’t opened for over half a millennium.” Dave sounded disgusted.

  “But you must have a contingency plan, right?” Ella waved at the chaos around them. “In case the elves came back?”

  “I’ve notified my superiors. They’re trying to convince the government that army deployment may become necessary. For now, they consider the attack an isolated event.” Dave scrubbed a hand over his face. “If this is true, if the Gates have opened... Well, if the epics are to be trusted, we’re in for a treat. The elves are real bastards. The Snatchers, people called them back then. Aelfadl, nightmares. Disease-bringers, death-dealers. Raping the women. Killing folk. One of their favorite pastimes was stealing healthy human children and replacing them with sickly ones of their own. Changelings.”

  From the corner of her eye she watched Finn who’d stopped cleaning his blades for a moment, as if listening. Or about to pass out. With Finn it was hard to tell. “And what happened to the kids they stole?” she asked.

  “We don’t know. Lost forever.”

  “But the elves fear iron, right? With iron weapons we can—”

  “No, that was our mistake. The Shades fear iron. We confused the Shades with the elves, but they’re not the same.”

  So they had no advantage over them? Ella’s hands clenched into fists. “Finn says worse things will come through.”

  “Worse than the elves? Is that even possible?” Dave’s eyes flashed. “Like what?”

  Finn raised his head and shot him a wary look. “Dragons,” he said, his voice frayed and low.

  Dave turned to Ella. “Is he serious?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Finn was always serious.

  Dave huffed, ran his fingers through his short hair, dislodging snow flakes. “Well, I’m not sure which is worse.” He scowled at the dead wolves. A team of lab technicians in white coats hovered over them, deciding on how to transport them for examination.

  Ella said nothing. She noticed Finn shiver as he sheathed one of his bowie knives. It seemed they couldn’t catch a moment’s rest, and Finn’s energy would sooner or later run dry. She thought of the warm clothes Mike had found him, still in a heap on the sofa, the boxes of chop suey on her table. It was time to go home.

  “If you’d told me about dragons yesterday I’d have laughed in your face,” Dave muttered. “But after these... wolves,” he nodded in the direction of the creatures, “I’d expect anything. So, fine, dragons. How do we fight them?”

  She turned to Finn, but he was staring at a point in space. The lines around his mouth had deepened and she didn’t know if it was pain, exhaustion or something else.

  “They’re apparently creatures of the cold,” she said, “winter coats and all. With the out-of-season snow, we’re at a disadvantage.”

  “Well, the army’s coming,” Dave snapped. “They’ll slaughter the dragons and anything else that comes with them.”

  “You can’t win this fight,” Finn rasped, stirring.

  “Bullshit.” Dave gestured at the frozen landscape. “The elves came before. They didn’t manage to conquer us when we were languishing in the dark ages, armed with stone axes.”

  “Steel,” Ella muttered.

  “What?”

  “They had steel axes then.”

  “Point is...” Dave turned to Finn. “They failed before and that was the Middle Ages. We have technology now, we have big guns.”

  “And you think they don’t?” Finn gave him an incredulous look. “You think only you made progress over the centuries? You asked why no fairy rings appeared, no lights, no warning. Don’t you think that by now they know how to disguise their arrival? Will you walk right into their hands, as naive and unprepared as your ancestors were?”

  Ella opened her mouth and snapped it closed. That was quite a speech by Finn’s standards. And what he said... Dear god, elves with technology. “But what about magic—?”

  “Magic and machines. Together. I said you can’t win.” Finn looked down at the throwing knife he’d been cleaning. “You won’t...” The knife fell from his hand. He stared at his shaking hand as if it didn’t belong to him.

  “That’s it,” Ella said, worry tightening her chest. She’d determined Finn wasn’t bleeding to death but he wasn’t in a good shape, either. “We’re going home, now.”

  “You can’t go,” Dave said.

  “The hell we can’t. We’ve been at it like machines since yesterday, and with Simon’s death...” She drew a breath. “We’re done here.”

  “I mean...” Dave hesitated. “Simon’s memorial service is in one hour.”

  Damn. If Dave had told her, it had completely slipped her mind. “Then I’ll drive Finn home and meet you there.”

  “I’m fine,” Finn said, predictably.

  “No, you’re not. You’re beaten to hell and back,” Ella informed him in case he’d missed it. “If you’d only let the EMTs check you...”

  Finn scowled. “I fight with you.”

  “And I make sure you don’t drop dead of exhaustion.”

  Dave cleared his throat. “Ella, you know you won’t make it in time to the service if you swing by your place first. All the roads downtown are blocked. Just saying.”

  Finn gathered his knives and sheathed them. He stood, wiped his hands on his pants and folded his arms over his chest. Arched an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side.

  Two against one. Oh, man. Ella sighed. “All right, fine.”

  ***

  The memorial service was a simple, sombre affair, in the Japanese Gardens behind the Town Hall. Ella knew why Dave chose the place: it used to be Simon’s fav
orite haunt.

  The Bureau was there, as were officers from other departments. Simon’s friends. Martha was among them, and oddly it made Ella feel better. She didn’t know many of the other officers and she felt she stuck out like a sore thumb — covered in mud and spattered with blood, one of her sleeves torn. No wonder she was garnering odd looks.

  They stood inside the small pagoda while snow fell silently all around, blanketing the trees and the shore of the small lake. The other officers whispered among themselves as they waited for Dave to say a few words.

  Sarah, Simon’s girlfriend, stood behind Dave, holding a bunch of white lilies in her gloved hands. Dressed in a black dress and matching coat belted at the waist, high heels and a hat, she looked like a picture from a fashion magazine.

  She caught Ella staring and nodded in greeting. Swallowing hard, Ella looked away. She hadn’t known Sarah had been released from the hospital. Had Simon been happy with this woman? Had he been happy with Ella as his partner?

  I hope you were, Simon. The knot in her throat kept growing until she thought she wouldn’t be able to breathe ever again.

  Dave cleared his throat and the whispers ceased.

  He spoke of Simon’s courage and kindness, of his humor and many talents — in languages, in art, in music. He was the soul of parties, the one with all the answers.

  All Ella wanted right now was to hide in a deep, dark hole and forget. It wasn’t true Simon was dead. It wasn’t possible. It’s a lie! she wanted to shout. Please.

  As she stepped out of the temple, the others walked up to her, indistinct faces, gripping her hand and offering condolences. For her partner, her friend. She scuffed the layer of snow with her boot. Dirt and snow and ash — flakes spiraling down, landing on her lashes.

  ‘We’re so sorry, Ella, so sorry.’

  Yeah. As if they had any idea... She forced herself to reply, to nod, to get through this. Simon had no other family. Old Greary, his uncle, was dead, and if this was the last thing she could do for Simon, then by god she would, even if all she wanted was to run away.

  A glance over her shoulder showed her Finn standing like a bodyguard at her back, arms folded, scowling at everyone. A wisp of warmth curled inside her chest. Suddenly she was thankful he’d insisted on coming.

  Dave turned to her as the others filed away. “It’s a dark day when an agent dies,” he said. “And I’ve lost too many lately. Good officers, all of them.”

  She’d known some of them. Couldn’t imagine them gone. Couldn’t grasp the concept of Simon’s death.

  “We’re going to have a drink in Simon’s memory at a bar downtown,” Dave was saying. “Are you coming?”

  She shook her head.

  He flicked her a worried glance. “Will you be all right? Would you rather grab a cup of coffee or something instead?”

  “Nah, I’ll be fine.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She felt chilled. “Home sounds good right now. Didn’t catch much sleep last night, and the cat needs to be fed or she’ll shred the furniture.”

  “What about him?” Dave nodded at Finn who’d followed and stood a few paces behind.

  “I’m just helping him settle in the job.” She blew on her hands. “Until he gets a paycheck, you know. He’s new in town.”

  Dave squinted at Finn against stray sunrays that had broken through the clouds. “There’s something off about him,” he muttered under his breath.

  “Because he fights better than you and me? Or because he’s prettier than either of us?”

  Dave snorted. “He’s just... an odd one, Ella. And he knows too damn much.”

  A chill traveled up her spine. She’d been wondering, too — where he’d come from, who he really was. Still... “Give him a chance. You saw how he fought today.”

  He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Well, if you need anything, call me. I’ll try to keep you off the roster tonight, let you have some rest.”

  “I appreciate it, Dave.”

  Dave shook his head and left with long strides, flakes catching in his short hair and reflecting the light.

  So, Simon. This is goodbye. The service made it official. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. No, she wouldn’t weep again. Enough tears.

  “Ella?” Tottering on her high heels, Sarah approached her. She’d placed her bunch of lilies by the lake and now she wrung her gloved hands together.

  Ella tensed and forced herself to nod.

  From up close, bruises showed on Sarah’s face, dark smudges under the thick makeup. Her cat-like eyes were sad. “I’m sorry about Simon.”

  “Me too.” Her anger had seeped away. What did it matter if Simon hadn’t told her he had a girlfriend? It was all over now. “How are you holding up?”

  Sarah shrugged and gave a hesitant smile. “Still in denial, I guess. Can’t believe he’s gone.” Her smile faded. “I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Sure. What about?” Her thoughts turned in circles, the image of Simon’s torn body at their center.

  “About the guardians.”

  That snapped Ella’s attention back to the present. “That’s what you said back at the hospital, isn’t it? Guardians of the Gates?”

  “I did?” She frowned. “Can’t remember. Well, the Shades keep mentioning them. I thought you might want to know. Duergar, they call them.”

  Duergar. The ones the elves would protect John Grey from. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. “Are the guardians Shades, too? What do they guard?”

  “That’s not clear.” Sarah chewed on her lower lip, getting red lipstick on her teeth. “But one thing is: they’re always mentioned in connection with you.”

  “With me?” Ella asked, surprised. She studied Sarah’s open face. “This makes no sense.”

  “I know.” Sarah nodded. “It sounds crazy. But it’s what I’ve heard from beyond the Veil.”

  Ella shifted her weight on the snow, slipped her hands into her pockets. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure of what I heard. Whether or not it’s true...” Sarah shivered. “I don’t know what these guardians are, or what they’re supposed to be doing, but it seems...” She glanced around as if to check for eavesdroppers. “It seems they’re keeping an eye on you. Have been, for a while.”

  Ella grimaced. “They’ve been following me?”

  “Since you were a child.”

  Ella took a step back. The black void of her childhood had never seemed so ominous. Spirals and fear. “What for?”

  “I honestly don’t know.” Sarah tugged on her wide-rimmed hat, shadowing her gaze. “As I’ve told you before... be careful.” She shook her head. “Unless it’s already too late.”

  “For what?” Ella whispered, but Sarah turned and walked away, wobbling slightly on her stiletto heels.

  Goddammit. Ella rubbed her chest, that damn knot still lodged somewhere in there, making her feel sick and cold.

  She turned to Finn and found him staring somewhere to the right — at a mother and her little boy who were piling snow to make a snowman. They laughed, the sound ringing clear in the quiet.

  “Ready to go home?” she asked.

  He met her gaze, his blue eyes hooded and full of unexpected pain. But before she could ask what was wrong, he shrugged and started on the path leading out of the gardens.

  ***

  Finn reluctantly agreed to wait in the car while she popped into the pharmacy-cum-health food store. She hunted for iron tablets, vitamins and painkillers, and pain-relieving gel for Finn’s leg. She also grabbed a few energy drinks and bars, and bandages and Band-Aids. She had a feeling they might need more, soon. Knee bands made her pause, and she picked two. They even had sports underwear and socks, and she selected a couple for Finn, hoping she’d guessed his size right.

  Oatmeal drew her eye and she balanced a package while she grabbed a carton of soy milk. She was pretty sure she had sugar and cinnamon at home. Maybe Finn liked oatmeal?

  Finn.

  She paid and pa
used at the store exit. Outside, the snow whirled in eddies. More spirals. She gazed at his dim form seated in the car. Who was he really? Ex military or something stranger still? Tired and way too skinny, beaten up, his mouth set in a thin line—whoever he was, he looked like someone who could really use some warm food and a good night’s sleep.

  Someone who had her back at all times.

  Gripping her bags to her chest, she returned to the car. This time she didn’t find a knife at her neck, but the pistol lay in Finn’s lap, half-covered by his hand, and Ella had no doubt it was cocked and ready.

  Finn was looking at her sideways, his almond-shaped eyes a crisp blue-gray, his high cheekbones flushed, his mouth a perfect small bow. He looked so... elfin right then, as if he’d dropped out of a fairytale. Which was ridiculous. The Gates had barely opened. Muscles rippled in his arm, straining the fabric of his shirt, when he lifted the pistol to holster it at his side.

  “What is it?” he bit out.

  Oh yeah, no staring. Bad girl. “Here.” She handed the bags over and forced herself to focus on driving safely home.

  She caught glimpses of Finn, of course, from the corner of her eye. He drew her gaze like a bright light. He sat quietly, staring out of the window, the brown bag of purchases between his legs. His eyes fluttered closed, his head dipped forward. He had no reserves; too stubborn to stop to rest. Fair hair brushed his cheek, ruffled by his breathing; his bandana was slightly askew. Why was he so adamant in always keeping it on?

  Curiosity got the better of her. She reached out, lifting the bandana with a finger.

  He twitched, hand going to his head, and she jerked back. He pulled the bandana down to his brows. Shot her a dazed glance, then nodded off once more, pale hair sliding forward.

  She swallowed hard and turned her attention back to the street. Was she being paranoid? Maybe Finn was simply ex-military. Maybe the bright lines she’d seen on his face and arms were fluorescent tattoos, or some new, fancy tech used by the army.

  Yeah and maybe he was a Buddhist monk on a pilgrimage. Nice try, Ella.