Boreal and John Grey Season 2

by Thoma, Chrystalla

  She forced her body to uncurl, her cramped legs to stretch. God, everything hurt. She slid off the bed, scanning the dimness of their room, then stepped outside, into the corridor. “Finn?”

  The golden threads of the Veil quivered in the dark, fizzling and fading, one after the other. No Shades, no Gate.

  Finn was curled up, pressed against the wall, his whole body flashing with bright lines. His breathing rattled, as if he couldn’t quite draw air. He jerked back when she leaned over him, smacking his head on the wall. Then he dragged himself sideways, away from her, his gaze wide and unfocused.

  Fuck.

  She stilled, not knowing what to do, standing in the cold corridor, in the dark, the only light the lines of fear on Finn’s skin. It felt like a nightmare inside a nightmare. She tried to remember the things she’d read on the internet about post-traumatic stress disorder, about the things Mike had told her... Her mind was still frozen from the nightmare.

  She took one step, then another, and slid down the wall next to Finn. The floor was so cold it stung her bare feet. She clasped her arms around her knees, shivering.

  Waited.

  Finn hung his head, his breathing starting to ease. When she reached a hand out to him, he hesitated for a moment, then clasped it in his. His fingers were icy.

  “Do you remember anything?” she whispered.

  He grimaced. “Pain,” he rasped.

  Yeah, she remembered that, all too well. Her back still ached, the marrow burned inside her bones. “What else?”

  “Lokke.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Spider,” Finn mumbled.

  “Not a white face, long and animal-like?” Hadn’t looked like a spider.

  He shuddered, the air leaving his lungs in a rush.

  “It’s over,” she said, steadying her voice. “Just a dream.”

  But it wasn’t. A memory, that was what it was — raw and vivid and real.

  Finn’s fingers clenched around hers. “A cave,” he said, and god his voice was so scratchy it hurt to hear it. “Water dripping.”

  He remembered, his words confirming the little she’d seen. For the first time he remembered something, and she wondered, as she’d done several times over the past week — was that a good thing? Maybe Finn’s mind was shutting the memories out for a reason.

  Yet, if he remembered what exactly had happened to him, then maybe he’d let her in and she might help — with the pain, the fear... and with the magic that allowed him to close the Gates and keep the world safe.

  At what cost? a small voice whispered in the back of her mind. At what cost to Finn’s sanity?

  She couldn’t remember whole years from her childhood, and the psychologists she’d been seeing told her that her mind was probably trying to protect her from some painful event. If she’d been experiencing Finn’s traumas, it was no wonder.

  She squeezed his hand, tugged on it lightly. “Come back to bed. It’s cold.”

  And the night wasn’t yet over.

  ***

  “Ella? Are you listening to me?” the high-pitched voice whined over the telephone.

  “Yes, Mom, I am listening. You were saying Alfred only bought you a dozen roses for your two-month anniversary and what an asshole he is.”

  “Mind your language, Ella.” As if Ella was still a ten-year-old. “Don’t you care that I’m unhappy?”

  Ella paused in the act of stuffing the washing machine full of dirty laundry and shifted the cell under her cheek. She was dead tired. A full-night’s sleep was a thing of the distant past, and Finn’s nightmares were getting worse — always revolving around the same: the shining creature with the long face, the cave, the pain.

  God, the pain.

  She shuddered. “I want you to be happy, Mom. I thought Alfred made you happy. I thought—”

  “He’s seeing another woman.”

  Ella blinked. “He is? I mean... that’s awful.”

  “He has all the signs. Comes home late, won’t tell me where he’s been... He’s distracted all the time. And I’m sure his secretary is giving him the sweet eye.”

  “Yeah well, that’s no proof, is it?” Ella stuffed more clothes into the machine and hoped it wouldn’t burst. She picked up one of Finn’s shirts, stared at the blood stains down the front. “Maybe he’s stressed over work.”

  “There you go, defending him. Oh god, I can’t believe I put my faith in this man. If he hasn’t got anything to hide, then why isn’t he talking to me?”

  Ella swallowed hard, thinking how sure she’d been Finn was hiding something from her, when it had been another kettle of fish altogether. Did Dave really have a transmitter on Finn? Or inside the apartment? She glanced around, uneasy.

  “I can’t stand this any longer,” her mother went on. “I won’t be his little lapdog, waiting for him at home and wagging my tail for a treat.”

  A dog in a blond wig and red dress. Ow, the image. Ella slammed the door of the machine shut and leaned on it. It was set into a closet next to the bathroom and a stain was spreading on the wall. Damn. A leak?

  “I can’t take whatever he dishes out and be grateful, now, can I?” Linda insisted.

  “No, Mom, of course not. Just try to talk to him first, is all I’m saying.” It wasn’t like she knew Alfred. Had never met him. Maybe he was an asshole, after all.

  A crash sounded from somewhere inside the apartment and Ella stood so fast she saw black spots. What the hell was that?

  Her mother was still talking, something about clothes and how to pack them without creasing them — who cared? She sidled down the corridor, remembering she’d left her belt with her knives and gun in the bedroom. Dammit.

  “Ella? Are you still there?”

  “Gotta go, talk to you later.” She disconnected, shoved the cell into her back pocket, and peered into the living room.

  Empty. Quiet. Dim, with the curtains drawn even though it was still early afternoon, but nothing looked out of place. Best of all, no lights flashing, no clicking noises, no smell of ozone on the air.

  She crept inside, keeping her back to the wall, and stalked toward the kitchen door. The light was on inside. Something clattered, and she heard a curse.

  Ella peered around the doorjamb.

  Finn crouched on the floor, shards of ceramic in his hands. He looked up, a contrite expression on his face. “Sorry.”

  She wanted to laugh with relief. “No worries.” She knelt next to him, gathering the pieces.

  “It’s your favorite mug.”

  “I don’t care about the damn mug.” She put a hand on top of his, feeling the fine scars on his knuckles. “As long as you’re okay, nothing else matters.”

  His smile was worth the scare he’d given her, and when she kissed him to make sure he got it, to assure herself he was really okay, her heart finally quieted.

  For now.

  ***

  All the lights were on, flooding the living room with yellow light. It was like the set of a theater play, a pantomime, the actors moving about silently. Finn was checking under the couch, his head stuck below, while Mike examined the underbelly of the coffee table. Scott crouched by the window, patting the folds of the curtains.

  The television was playing, background noise, a program of music videos. The presenter said something witty and there was laughter, then more music.

  Ella finished her check of the bookshelves and wiped sweat and filth off her face.

  No sign of a transmitter so far and they’d been at it for a couple hours now, going through the whole apartment.

  Dammit.

  “Well, this is fun,” Mike muttered, sitting up and folding his legs, Indian-style, on the carpet. He had spider webs caught in his dark hair. “We should get together for drinks in your apartment more often. Hey, can I have another martini? Stirred, not shaken.”

  Well, they’d agreed to pretend they were meeting for drinks, not to tip Dave off, but Mike was going for an Oscar here.

  F
inn who’d pulled out from under the sofa, his face white with dust, lifted a brow. Right, Mike and his love for old Bond films...

  Scott walked over from the window and sank in the sofa with a sigh. Dust bunnies stuck to his pants. “You could use some help with the cleaning of the place.”

  “Well, it’s charming how dusty the TV set is,” Mike said. “I mean, you can hardly see the singer in the clip. That blurry, retro quality of image... You know.”

  “I’ll wash the screen,” Ella grumbled.

  “Save the water, I’m parched,” Mike said.

  Ella sighed and went to the kitchen, returning with a tray piled with glasses and a jar. “Any other improvements you’d like to see?”

  “Nah, I’m good.” Scott winked. “At least the floor is swept now.”

  Yeah, they’d swept everything, checked under every piece of furniture, fingered the covers and the cushions, dismantled the cupboards, pulled the shower to pieces, started a leak when they checked in the water pipes under the sink. Mike had brought a metal detector — assuming the transmitter was metal — and had passed it over the walls, the floors, the ceilings.

  Over Finn.

  Nothing.

  Which was why they had to check by feel. Ella hoped Dave hadn’t hidden a camera, too, somewhere.

  She met Finn’s gaze and shrugged. They still had to search the car. Hadn’t figured out how to do it under the watchful eye of Dave’s men.

  She refused to believe the bug was on Finn. A tracking micro-device, perhaps, but an actual voice transmitter...

  The doorbell rang.

  Shit. She grabbed the metal detector and shot to her feet. She had to hide it. “Finn, would you get the door?”

  Escaping into their bedroom, she slid the detector under the bed, where it could make new dust bunny friends. Trying to keep back a sneeze, she returned to the living-room, patting her pants.

  The first thing she caught was the tension in the air — not golden-threads-parting, no ohmygod-the-Veil-is-tearing sort of tension, but a what-the-hell stiffness in everyone’s posture.

  Mike and Scott flanked the door, like bodyguards, hands fisted, while Finn stood in the middle of the living room, his glare burning a hole through the new arrival.

  And when Ella came into view of the door, she knew why. In one motion, she drew her gun.

  “Hey, Ella,” Sarah said in the same airy tone as always, her short hair falling in her green eyes, her stilettos marking the floor. “Hold your fire. I was only looking for Mike. And here he is.”

  ***

  “What the hell does she want?” Ella muttered as she boiled water for tea, glaring through the open door at Sarah who sat on Ella’s couch, in Ella’s living room, as if she’d been invited over for a chat.

  “We’ll soon find out, won’t we?” Mike whispered back, taking the cups and the sugar. “Come on.”

  “What if she tries to kill Finn?” The thought sent ice through her.

  “You took her gun and knife. Don’t hand her any sharp implements and don’t let her get near him. Should work out fine.”

  Ella made a face and followed him out of the kitchen.

  Sarah was locked in a staring match with Scott who sat across from her. Finn had laid claim on a chair at the far side of the living room, cleaning his knives with a rag.

  Subtle... so not. Ella smirked as she brought the tea to the table. “Here.”

  “Thanks.” Sarah poured herself black tea and stirred in sugar. “What’s with the drawn curtains? It’s actually sunny outside today.”

  “Okay, cut the crap.” Ella perched on the edge of the armchair and folded her arms over her chest. “We’ve done the nice, polite thing. Now what do you want?”

  Sarah grinned over the rim of her cup, glancing at Finn. “Hey, cutie-pie. How’re you holding up?”

  Finn’s hand jerked. He paused. When he lifted the knife, staring at the blade, Ella wondered if she should have taken any sharp objects away from him, as well. But Finn only sent up a brief glare and resumed polishing, his pale lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones.

  Sarah’s grin widened.

  Damn her. Was she enjoying this? If she didn’t drop the grin, Ella would punch it off her face, then throw her out of the apartment — preferably through the window.

  “So, spill,” Mike muttered. He sat down next to Scott, his face pinched. “What do you want with me? Why are you here?”

  “I bet looking for you is just an excuse.” Ella glowered at Sarah. “Let’s be straight with each other. Did you send the sniper to get Finn?”

  “Sniper?” Sarah’s eyes widened. Her shock seemed genuine. Or else she was a good actress.

  “You failed to kill him once. I figured you’d want to give it another go.” Ella stared at Sarah, hunting for any telltale shift in her expression. She itched to draw her gun and shove it into the woman’s pretty face, scare her into telling the truth.

  Problem was, she didn’t think Sarah scared easily.

  “I don’t know anything about a sniper,” Sarah muttered. “I was convinced to hold back. To wait and see what happens.”

  “Well, I bet you didn’t like that,” Ella said, keeping her voice neutral. “Or the fact that your step-father is an alien robot.”

  “Step-father?” Mike blinked.

  “At least we share the same goals,” Sarah said evenly. God but she had a good poker face. “He’s protecting this world. He’s not John Grey, able to open the Gates and get us all killed.”

  Ella fought a wince. Sarah: score. “And how would you know what sort of abilities a Guardian of the Gates has?”

  Sarah said nothing. Yeah, what could she say? Information on the Guardians was as scarce as it was about John Grey and the Dark elves.

  Finn put down one knife, picked up the other, his movements smooth and graceful, betraying no agitation.

  “You still haven’t said why you’re here,” Mike said.

  Sarah sipped tea and observed them, her gaze moving from Mike to Scott, brushing past Finn and stopping on Ella. “As I’m sure you know, something has changed in the Veil. Hard to miss for anyone listening in.”

  Mike grimaced but said nothing.

  Finn stilled.

  Well, it wasn’t a secret, if indeed Dave had compromised Finn. It all depended, of course, on how good his invisible transmitter was, if it could catch every whisper.

  So many ifs.

  “It’s deafening,” Sarah went on, placing her cup on the table and pulling down the hem of her short skirt. Her hands shook slightly. “The screeching comes and goes. At first I thought I was going mad. Then I realized what it was. I had gotten used to the quiet.”

  And Ella shouldn’t be feeling sorry for the damn woman, but she was. Shit. “So what, you came for a group hug?”

  “I came to ask what the hell is going on.” She nailed Finn with her green gaze. “I figured if Mike can’t help me, John Grey may be able to.”

  Yeah, and what if Dave had sent her to find out more? What if the Organization sent her? What was her agenda in the big scheme of things?

  “What do you know?” Ella fought the urge to stand and place herself between Sarah and Finn.

  Sarah shook her head. “I asked Dave but he said very little. Something about a rip in the Veil and magic leaking through, magic like fire.”

  Son of a bitch. Those had been Finn’s more or less exact words. He was listening in on them. On Finn.

  Well, one thing was for sure. They could stop looking in the apartment and the car; the bug wasn’t there. Finn had spoken those words at the physiotherapist’s. If there was a transmitter, it had to be on him, in him, somehow. Under his skin, buried in his flesh.

  The thought made her shudder.

  “Does Dave know you’re here?” Ella asked. Because he does now, and did you know he’s listening to all we say?

  “I said I’d pass by, talk to Mike.”

  “Nothing to talk about,” Mike said, a little too quickly. He shook his
head. “The screeching is just a glitch in the Matrix.” He winked. “Take the blue pill and the story ends.”

  Mike and film quotes. Terrific.

  “And the magic? The fire?” Sarah watched Finn like a hawk. “Won’t you help me out here?”

  Great, as if the transmitter wasn’t enough worry, now they had Sarah bugging them. God, with Dave listening in, the dragon still roaming free on the city, the nightmares getting more and more real but never revealing what came before or after that moment in the cave...

  “Why on earth would you think you could just drop by for tea and ask for help?” Ella blurted, her blood boiling. “Are you out of your mind? You’re not welcome here.”

  “And as I said,” Mike muttered. “Everything’s fine now.”

  “You...” Sarah stood, wobbling on her stilettos, and jabbed a finger at Mike. “Of all people, you know how it hurts to hear this constant screeching. How debilitating it is, how it makes you dizzy and nauseous and turns your life to crap. I’m asking you as the only other oracle I know, damn you.” Her voice cracked. “I’m not here for Dave or anybody else. I need to find out how to make the noise stop or I’ll go mad.”

  Well, Ella had to admit, it was a hell of a performance. Or was it really so bad all the time? The screeching was caused by magic moving through the Veil, according to Finn. Was she more sensitive to the noise than Mike? She knew there were degrees to everyone’s abilities.

  Guilt washed through her and she struggled to stop it from swamping her and dampening her anger.

  Anger was good. She had to hold on to it. Had to remind herself this person had threatened to kill both of them more than once, and well, if Finn knew the secret to stopping the noise from the Veil, he’d have told Mike, at least.

  Hell, if there was a way to avoid hearing it, Finn would’ve used the trick himself instead of popping painkillers like candies.

  “You want something in return, is that it?” Sarah gave Ella a long look. “I know you don’t like me. I know you don’t have any reason to trust me.”