Boreal and John Grey Season 1

by Chrystalla Thoma

  Grinning, he lifted the book that had fallen to the floor and placed it back in her hands. “I haven’t finished my exercises.” He winked as he stood up. “And then shower.”

  Laughing outright, she opened the damn book again. “Tease.”

  This relaxed, joking Finn was a revelation. Together. As one. Was that just teasing, too?

  Turning her back to Finn, because no reading would be forthcoming otherwise, she bent over the book, a smile tugging at her lips. The text rambled on about the danger from the Dark elves and the Guardians, who hunted for John Grey.

  “If John Grey was a young fellow in the Middle ages, he must be an old man by now,” she said, flipping the page.

  Finn grunted something, small thumps telling her he was in the middle of another exercise.

  “Beware of John Grey,” she muttered. “Yeah, and how? How is it possible that the elves don’t know who John Grey is?”

  “Our records were lost in the war,” Finn said.

  Right. When the Dark elves chucked their Lighter siblings to the frozen surface of the world with a sayonara and a wink.

  “That sucks,” she said and read on.

  Aha. Another mention of John Grey. The elves explained he needed a steady presence at his side, and went on to exhort the beauty and wisdom of Sirurd’s daughter who was to be his bride. Beauty and wisdom. Going out on a limb, those hadn’t been the criteria for her selection. Asa was her name. A skilled seamstress.

  Ella stroked a fingertip over the word. If Asa was her ancestor, she certainly hadn’t passed any of that wisdom and sewing skills to her.

  But what else have you passed on?

  The elves mentioned Asa’s mother, cryptically saying they were sure she’d be pleased to know of her daughter’s fortune. And why wasn’t the mother with them at the banquet? Women weren’t given much of a vote in anything, but the queen at least would be present at such an event, wouldn’t she?

  Well, Sirurd didn’t seem inclined to explain. He thanked the elves and said his wife would receive the tidings in her high tower.

  What the hell was she doing locked up in a tower?

  The elves inquired about the health of Sirurd’s spouse, and he responded she was the same as when they had returned her all those years back. ‘Living in a dream,’ Sirurd said and commanded everyone to eat and drink and have a good time.

  Returned her. From where? If the elves had her... Sirurd’s daughter was no changeling. But it sounded like her mother maybe was.

  “Finn, I think your theory about Sirurd’s daughter was right.” She turned to face him. He was stretching his legs and froze in the middle it.

  “Changeling?”

  “Her mother.” Ella rubbed a fingertip over her lower lip. “Any idea what kind of abilities the elves hoped to get with their experiments?”

  Finn shook his head. An ash-blond strand escaped its tie and stuck to his face. “Magic.”

  “Right, right. But what sorts of magic are there? Anything about stabilizing abilities?”

  He straightened, tucked the stray strand behind one black-tipped ear. “Magic is about affecting forces. Pushing, pulling, or meshing them in different ways.” His eyes went distant and a furrow formed between his brows. “In some it’s stronger than in others; in some it’s more of a physical force, in others it has to do with the mind.”

  Vague. All encompassing. “Maybe magic works differently on humans.”

  Finn shrugged, shoulders slumping. “Perhaps.” His lack of magic had made him an outcast, had almost cost him his life. Damned elves and their damn magic.

  And no progress yet in her search for clues. Somewhere, somehow, she’d missed a vital piece of information.

  That, or the Gates, the Shades, the little bits and pieces of knowledge she had — her family origins, Finn’s dreams, Simon’s book, Dave’s mysterious nature, none of it made sense, and that was the most frightening thing of all. The total lack of a pattern.

  Except everything seemed centered on her city, her neighborhood. Was it her? Was she doing something without knowing?

  She returned to the book, chewing on her lip, skimming down the pages. Not much about John Grey, but it did sound like he’d had a difficult childhood. Many deaths in his family, and recurring nightmares at night.

  Poor guy. She could totally sympathize.

  The elves said his only remaining family accompanied him. A sister, apparently, and a couple of young cousins. Also his pets and his favorite servants. How considerate and how very suspicious. Ella decided she didn’t trust the blasted creatures at all.

  Dancing followed, with some of the songs transcribed in the text. Joy. Heh, it looked like John Grey couldn’t dance. She could relate. Not much for rhythm. Oh wait. He had a problem with his leg. Apparently it had been broken once and hadn’t healed well.

  In other news, his magic thrived on pain, the elves cheerfully explained, and they’d make sure his magic stayed strong.

  How was that for a veiled way of saying they’d hurt him?

  Ella shivered. He sounded like a very sad fellow, this John Grey. Was he a Dark elf? No mention of wings anywhere, but that didn’t mean anything.

  Though, if he was, it meant she might have winged children one day.

  Shit.

  Now Sirurd was asking about John Grey’s peculiar name. Right, because Sirurd was such a common Norse name and all... Interested in spite of the worry nibbling at her concentration, she skimmed the elves’ evasions and supposedly wise sayings, hoping they’d answer the damn question.

  They did. John Grey — or it’s Norse equivalent — wasn’t really the guy’s name. Huh, go figure. All this hubbub and infamousness when it wasn’t what he was called in real life. It was simply a designation of his peculiar magic, the elves explained in their usual high-brow and damn annoying manner, a magic which had to do with the Grey. His real name was based on the birthmark which designated his nature.

  “Finn...” He had a birthmark his shoulder. In fact, she could see it now as he straightened from a floor exercise.

  He looked up.

  “I didn’t know your birthmarks represented your type of magic. Is it common for Light elves to name yourselves that way?” She frowned. “And why do you have one if you don’t have magic?”

  He glanced at his shoulder, where the dark starburst stained his pale skin, and swallowed. “This mark wasn’t in the priests’ books.”

  “Then what does your name mean?” She remembered the elven lady in the Gate calling him. “Isthelfinn.”

  He winced. So that really was his name.

  “What does it stand for?” she whispered, watching as pain, then anger rolled over his face. “Nothing good, I’m guessing.”

  “It means ‘not real’,” he muttered through gritting teeth.

  Ella gaped at him, rage rising inside her like a hot tide, until her hands curled into fists and her heart boomed. Bastard elves. Heartless motherfuckers.

  If she got her hands on them, she’d kill them.

  Very painfully.

  ***

  John Grey’s real name was based on the birthmark on his arm which looked like a flower. His name meant ‘bridge’. Which made perfect sense if you knew his ability to open Gates.

  Whereas Finn’s real name... Not real. Shit. She rubbed her eyes, fury still rolling through her in great, burning waves, as Finn left the room, his footsteps silent as a cat’s.

  A flower. A starburst. Spirals and darkness roiling in a vortex.

  Her phone rang, jolting her upright. Almost ripping her backpack in the process, she dug the damn thing out. “Yeah?”

  “Ella, it’s Dave.”

  Gee, really? How unexpected. “Do you need us to come in?”

  “Stay put. It seems that snake wasn’t the only animal that crossed over.”

  Oh shit. “Wolves? Dragons?”

  Dave grunted into the phone. “Possibly.”

  Ella sighed and sank back into the couch, dragging a cushion behi
nd her back. “Any progress with the trail of the Gates?”

  “Not sure.” A humming filled the connection. Dave was stressed. Maybe he wasn’t a Guardian after all. She’d found no evidence whatsoever he was one, and she’d been close to him in times of great fear. Altered states. Had never seen any spirals inside him. And he stressed a lot. Maybe he was too human for his own good.

  “Give me what you got.” She picked at the corner of the book distractedly, sounds from the shower reaching her ears.

  “We have a fully formed one reported near the Stevenson Library.”

  The library where she’d gotten the book? “What else?”

  “The others are clustered in your neighborhood, making you the only constant we have. What do you make of that?”

  Ella thought of the Gates flickering and fading, the woman looking like Finn’s mother floating in them, and her stomach clenched. “I’ve always attracted trouble.” And his name is currently Finn.

  “The half-formed Gates, though...” He tsked. “They don’t seem to have any pattern. They’re spread around the city.”

  “Where?”

  “Well, there was one in Bentley Park. That’s right behind Harlem Avenue, corner with—”

  “—Remy Street?”

  “You know it?”

  Ella swallowed her reply. That was where Finn had called her from, where she’d found him and brought him home with her. “Anywhere else?”

  “A mall near the stadium.”

  Dammit, that was where Finn used to live. “What else?”

  “Apart from the ones in your neighborhood, we have two more locations. One near the Warf 2 and another in the suburb, at a gas station.”

  Ella sat, the book slipping from her numb fingers. The Wharf. Finn said he’d been there before, hadn’t he?

  There was a constant alright. Finn. He’d been at the places where the fully operational Gates had formed as well. The Stevenson Library. He’d waited in the car for her when she’d gone to look for the book. Had he been at that gas station out of town? She’d have to ask Finn.

  Somehow she was certain he had.

  She felt sick.

  “Ella? You are telling me everything, right? Can I count on you?”

  “Yeah, Dave. You can count on me.” She forced her mouth to keep talking. “I’ll look into this and let you know. And you keep me posted if you find out anything else, right? We’ll be on stand by and ready to go if you call us.”

  God dammit, Finn.

  She flipped the phone closed and placed it on the coffee table, feeling as if her hands belonged to someone else. Picking up the book, she ran a trembling finger down the page talking about John Grey.

  Come on, book, give me something I can work with.

  John Grey had lived an isolated life, due to his special ability. Although he came from one of the royal houses, he didn’t participate in the ceremonies and usual activities.

  Royal houses?

  Finn chose that moment to walk into the living room, in black pants and white shirt. Her heart stammered at the sight of him, torn between joy and fear.

  “Finn.” Her voice was barely a breath, and she forced more air in her lungs. “Finn. Didn’t you say you come from a royal house?”

  “Yes.” He licked his lips. “Why?”

  She forced a smile, her head pounding. “Just wondering.”

  God, this couldn’t be right. John Grey wasn’t a Light elf. No, she was seeing a pattern where there was none. The Light elves had stated John Grey wasn’t one of them. Even Dave had said so.

  Finn wandered away and sounds reached her from the kitchen. He was putting water to boil, presumably to make tea and coffee. Every sound made her jump. Holy shit.

  She flipped the pages until she found the passage. There. See? ‘Not one of us,’ the elves said. ‘A John Grey belongs nowhere.’

  A John Grey. She gripped the book, her breath quickening. What, there were more than one of them?

  Images from Finn’s dream, the hilltop. ‘Not one of us,’ the priest had said. Because... Because Finn had no magic. Rejected. An outcast.

  A John Grey belongs nowhere.

  Oh my god. John Grey was a Light elf. An elf living apart from the others, not because he had no abilities but because he’d been gifted with an unusual magic.

  Opening Gates. Jesus. Her stomach churned, sending bile up her throat. Dammit, Finn.

  She’d given her heart to the one person about to destroy her world.

  ***

  Ella stared out of her bedroom window. Air hissed through a crack. Outside, down in the street, the wind lashed the trees and bowed them to its passage, and overhead dark clouds sailed.

  Her mind was empty of thought and full of echoes. A flower. A starburst. A bridge. Not real. Finn.

  She splayed her fingers on the icy glass. Oh Christ.

  A shuffle made her turn around.

  “Hey.” Finn stood at her door, brows drawn together. “I made tea.”

  She shook her head. His hair had dried; it framed his face in silver. His eyes were somber with concern. He looked so good; he’d felt so good in her arms, in her life.

  Strange you saw what you’d been missing when you knew what to look for. All the clues had been there.

  Apparently all Boreals, the royalty, were born with the gift of magic. Touching the energy, they called it. But once in a while, a child was born with no such magic, marked with a strange birthmark. Though the seeming lack of magic was deceptive. The child had a different kind of magic — that of opening. That child was a John Grey.

  A John Grey was unique. But as soon as he died, another would be born to take his place. Not an old man, living through time. A young man.

  Finn.

  She turned back to the window, feeling so cold she might shatter at a mere touch. How would Dave react to the news? Yeah, boss, my partner is not only a Boreal but he is the one who’s been opening Gates. Please don’t hurt him. As you know, he swore he won’t work for the other side; that he’ll fight with us.

  That would go down beautifully, she could just see it.

  And that wasn’t the worst part.

  “Ella?”

  She turned her head. Finn had stepped into the room, worry etching lines on his forehead. Her partner, sullen and quiet as he was, unbeatable in a fight, loyal and kind.

  Her lover.

  She just stared at him. He’d been there all that time as they’d puzzled over the Gates, the stories, everything. Right there by her side, fighting with her, fighting against fate.

  A John Grey.

  “What is it?” Finn asked, his voice low and careful.

  Unable to bear it anymore, she started to pace. So many questions she had to ask. Such a mess this was going to be. “What town did you say you worked at before coming here?”

  “Blackwater.” He swallowed hard, his gaze darting to the door. “Why?”

  Damn, the gas station Dave had mentioned was on that road. “You said you’ve been to Warf 2 before we found the snake there?”

  He gave her a piercing look. “I slept there once.”

  “When you first arrived to the city.”

  He nodded.

  Damn, damn, damn! Add to that the places she’d met him the first couple of times Dave didn’t know about, and...

  Why had only a few of the Gates worked? What was different about those times?

  “What’s going on?” Finn asked, each word vibrating. His hands had clenched into fists against his thighs.

  There had to be a pattern there, too, subtle clues she was not seeing.

  At the library, she’d left Finn in the car, half asleep, before the wolves came through. At her apartment, before the dragon attacked, he’d been asleep. When the stone-plated dragon passed through, she’d left Finn asleep on the couch. Before the last wolf attack, they’d both been asleep, and now, before the flying snake was seen, and the other animals Dave mentioned...

  Heat crept up her neck. Yeah, they’d been
asleep, together, on the couch.

  Did sleep have something to do with it?

  Shit.

  Footfalls behind her. She spun around, took a step back. Finn approached, eyes wary, a hand lifting as if to touch her, then falling back to his side.

  She didn’t think she could say the words, but they came out in a rush. “You’re John Grey.”

  Finn’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “You can’t sleep anymore,” she blurted. Oh yeah, that made perfect sense.

  “What?”

  “You’re opening Gates, Finn. Maybe it’s your nightmares.” Oh good lord, he’d dreamed of the flying snake before it had appeared, hadn’t he? Why hadn’t she seen this? “I don’t know how it works. But wherever you’ve been, Gates have opened. Most aren’t complete. But lately they’re operational, letting the animals through, and soon...” The elves.

  “No,” Finn whispered, his eyes huge in his pale face, splotches of red on his cheekbones.

  “I’m sorry.” Such a useless thing to say.

  He took a step back. “No,” he said again and turning around, left the room.

  ***

  What was the usual course of action when you’d just told a person — a person you loved — that they’re the monster they’d been fighting all along? When you’d seen the hope in their eyes go out and don’t know how to bring it back?

  She found Finn standing by the window in the living room, forehead pressed to the cool glass.

  Neither spoke for a few minutes.

  “Are you sure?” Finn finally said, his back stiff.

  “The places of the Gates match your presence there. What the book says about John Grey is that there was never only one. And his birthmark... It looked an awful lot like yours.”

  Finn shivered.

  Her arms ached with the need to hold him, but her life had just been turned upside down — again. She hugged herself instead, and wondered if the ice inside her chest would ever leave. “Remember you told me how the Shades are following you? How the Veil thinned wherever you were? How you jumped into this world one day? You have the ability to open Gates.”

  The wind whistled outside.