Boreal and John Grey Season 2

by Thoma, Chrystalla

  Ella bit the inside of her cheek, slowing as they hit the city center traffic. She’d wanted to buy clothes for Finn for Christmas. More underwear and a good jacket, new pants and shirts. She’d also planned on buying him loads of small presents so she could watch him unwrap them, see the pleasure in his eyes. Had wanted to take him to the theater maybe, to a good restaurant. Buy him a thick book about the Vikings and human history and all those topics that seemed to interest him.

  Maybe she’d buy him a pair of socks; she had enough for that, probably.

  She took a deep breath. With his whole meager salary from the Bureau and most of hers going to physiotherapy, she’d had to give up on the idea. And then Christmas sort of got out of hand, with Finn freaking out at the sound of fireworks, and then came the dragon trouble, the breaking of the next seal and Finn’s seizure.

  That had been the goddamn scariest thing she’d ever seen. Though the attack of the Jotunn spiders were a close second.

  You should start getting used to such scares by now, Ella. She sniffed, wiped her hand over her cold nose. It’s sort of part of your job description. Fighting the invisible, expecting the unexpected. Fighting, always.

  Yeah, but now it was personal. No nameless, faceless victims. This was her family.

  Finn muttered something and she glanced sideways at him. He was leaning back, a dazed expression on his face.

  “Finn?” Was he going into a flashback? “Hey. What is it?”

  He had a hand pressed to his side. Oh crap, was that blood? “Dragon,” he said.

  “What do you mean? The dragon’s safe and the bond...” She hissed and swerved the car around, in the direction of the Bureau. “You haven’t broken the bond.” And someone had taken advantage, hurting the dragon. “Why haven’t you?”

  Finn lifted his hand, stared at this bloodied fingers. “Can’t.”

  Hell. Her gaze torn between the road and Finn, to make sure he wasn’t bleeding out — he probably wasn’t, judging from the death glare — she wound through the traffic, breaking at least half a dozen regulations, and parked right outside the Bureau building.

  “There’s a good chance Dave isn’t aware someone has attacked the dragon,” she said, wincing as Finn’s glower was turned on her.

  Okay, so Finn wasn’t in a forgiving mood right now. The constant pain of the tracker in his leg couldn’t be helping.

  He pushed himself out and limped toward the Bureau entrance, sending the receptionist ducking behind her desk. A man Ella vaguely recognized did a double take as Finn stalked by, backpedaling until his back met the wall.

  Finn tended to have that effect on people sometimes.

  Ella hurried after him, heading toward the massive elevators. “Wait for me, will you?” She stepped in and pressed the button. “Let me handle this.”

  “No.” Finn was glaring a hole into the metal doors.

  Damn, not a good sign — for Dave. And she couldn’t quite feel bad for him. Go figure.

  Dave was such a puzzle. Why admit to the tracker in Finn’s leg but not the transmitter? What did he hope to gain?

  They hurried down the corridor with the hanging bare bulbs and down to Dave’s office.

  Turns out he wasn’t in, the lucky bastard. Ella was sure Finn would’ve kicked his ass to hell and back.

  There was Diane, though, Dave’s new secretary, and her mouth stretched into a brittle smile. “He’s at the hospital,” she said. “He’s visiting his step-daughter and he said—”

  Finn grunted and threw out a hand, gripping the edge of the desk. He looked down, his eyes widening.

  A crimson stain was spreading on his jeans, right below the hip.

  Realization took a long moment to set in. The dragon. “They’re still hurting her.” She pulled out her phone, calling Dave.

  Diane’s mouth flapped and she got up so fast her chair knocked back against the wall. “Oh my god, he’s frigging bleeding! What should I do?”

  Okay, damage control.

  The stain didn’t seem to be getting bigger. Finn’s face was tight — with pain or anger? Probably both. Yet he didn’t seem about to pass out.

  All things considered, not too bad.

  “Find a medic kit,” Ella said while Dave’s phone rang and rang. “We need bandages.”

  That was it, keep a cool head, though there was nothing she could do about the way her heart raced with fear.

  And Dave still wasn’t answering. “Leave the medic kit,” Ella said, turning to Diane who was going through her drawers, her lower lip quavering. “Call Mr. Holborn immediately.”

  He wouldn’t dare not answer the phone of his own office.

  ***

  Dave did answer and Ella grabbed the receiver. “Where’s the dragon? Someone’s hurting her, and hurting Finn.”

  “Ella, is that you?”

  “Yeah, who do you think?”

  A pause met her words, then Dave’s voice came jagged, and she realized he was running. “Is Finn okay?”

  “Don’t worry, Dave, your precious tool is still alive, but you’d better make sure the dragon survives.”

  “So the bond is still active.”

  No shit.

  “I’ll take care of it,” Dave bit out. “Go home and be careful. Jeff has not come in today. I hope you have your Kevlars.”

  Ella sucked a sharp breath.

  Finn grabbed the phone out of her hand and she was too stunned to react. “You said you’d protect the dragon, Duergr,” he breathed, his body shaking with tension. “You swore.”

  He slammed the receiver down.

  Diane whimpered.

  “We’re going home,” Ella told her.

  “But the medic kit...?”

  “I’ve got one in the car.”

  Finn was already moving toward the elevators and she followed him. The Kevlar vests were in the car, too. The snow was packed and slippery as they hurried out of the building across the street, exposed to any attack. Her skin prickled.

  They made it inside unscathed. She started the engine after the first two tries and waited for it to warm up, fishing for the Kevlars that were stacked on the back seat.

  Finn dragged his on, and she got a glimpse of the blood on his chest and hip before he did. It didn’t seem to be spreading. Thank god for small mercies.

  She pulled off the curb and did a highly illegal u-turn in the avenue, heading home.

  Jefferson. Jeff. Why, goddammit? Hadn’t the Feds been informed they weren’t supposed to kill Finn? Could it be they didn’t find the reasons convincing?

  Damn you, Jeff. If it’s you, I hope you rot in hell.

  Could Dave stop him? Could the Organization beat the FBI?

  “Ella. Ella!” Finn’s voice, hoarse and tinged with fear.

  “What?” How long had he been calling her name?

  Finn’s hand smacked into the glass, cracking it, and she stepped on the brake.

  An impact and a crash.

  The belt cut into her chest, pushing all the air out of her lungs. She slumped, trying to breathe, vaguely aware the crash hadn’t been that bad — the airbags hadn’t deployed.

  Had it been the sniper? Were they hit?

  Movement and scratching from her left drew her attention. She turned to see something huge looming outside Finn’s door.

  The door was torn away as if made of paper and claws grabbed Finn, hauling him out. He kicked and twisted, fighting the hold, but more claws descended on him and he was out and gone.

  “No!” Ella fumbled with her seat belt, cursing. “Hell, no.” At last she was free and she drew her gun as she threw the door open and jumped out. “Hey!”

  Ettin — and goblins. What, had the whole village shown up? They held Finn’s limbs, carrying him like a hunted animal. A tentacle-like appendage was wrapped around his arm. Was that a sting at its end?

  “Let him go!” She aimed down her gun, her hands shaking. “Now.”

  She took shot after shot, her ears ringing with the noise. The
monstrous creatures barely seemed to notice the bullets thudding into their flesh. They kept backing away, toward a tall building — a bank — and their forms began to warp out of shape. A curve in the air, bending the building backward.

  A Veil rip.

  Holstering her gun, she broke into a run.

  The two goblins turned toward her, as if noticing her for the first time. So they were the rearguard, safeguarding the exit of the Ettin with Finn.

  She let the first knife fly before she was even sure she had a target, and it caught the goblin charging her on the leg. She was running as she let go of the second knife. Ducking under the fizzling goblin’s arm, she saw the second goblin stumble, her blade sticking out of its rock-like chest, and it shrieked as it returned to the Grey.

  “Finn!”

  The Ettin had let go of his legs, letting them drag on the asphalt, and were hauling him away, face down.

  “Stop!” She pulled out her knives. “Finn, delay them!”

  But strangely, Finn’s struggling had slowed, his head rolling forward. What the hell was going on?

  She stumbled to a stop. The tentacle with the sting. Ettin poison. They’d paralyzed him.

  Fury shook her. Threads trembled around her, golden, silver, crimson and blue as she set off again.

  Nobody was taking Finn away. No way in hell.

  Reaching behind her back, she drew her shuriken. A good thing she was always ready for hell.

  The Ettin dragging Finn were almost inside the Veil by now, their long tails lashing at the sidewalk, and she gritted her teeth, balancing the shuriken in her hands. She threw them, one after the other, into the two Ettin’s backs and launched herself at them with a cry.

  One of the Ettin jerked and stopped. She jumped on its tail, wrapped her hands around spines jutting out of its spine and climbed up. Her shuriken stuck out of the Ettin’s leathery shoulder and she tried to pull it out. When that didn’t work, she climbed higher and stepped on it, pushing it deeper.

  At least all movement forward had stopped. The rippling in the air was way too close — a breath away.

  The Ettin under her growled and turned, but she clung to its back, the spines slicing into her hands, the pain a distant sensation. Her heart pounded; she practically felt the blood pumping in her veins, burning hot.

  The creature shook, its plated skin rattling, but it was losing substance. That’s what you get for traveling through the Veil, you bastard. Ella braced her booted feet on either side of the creature, holding on as it began to waver — then remembered what came next.

  She jumped off, rolling on the asphalt, and ow, she left a good stretch of skin there.

  The Ettin exploded in fire and flames.

  No time to even think. The other Ettin was still standing, pulling Finn the last couple of feet toward the rip.

  No weapons left. But the threads quavered, singing — calling. The dark golden threads; her own.

  You can do this. You have to.

  Reaching up, she stroked them, murmured to them, not sure what would happen — thinking of shaking the world, throwing the Ettin off its feet.

  She pushed.

  The ground groaned and the car shuddered, its doors rattling.

  The remaining Ettin stopped, the rip in the Veil expanding like a gaping mouth, then thinning.

  Now.

  She scrambled to her feet and kicked dirt as she slid to the ground, scraping her knees, barely managing to grab Finn’s legs. Reaching up, she pulled a knife from Finn’s belt — one of her own he’d borrowed — and stabbed it into the Ettin’s thick tail.

  The Ettin shrieked. The hold on Finn grew slacker and Ella gritted her teeth as she pulled on his legs, hauling him backward. She was aware of moments trickling by, of the creature turning, its muzzle dripping fire, its tail lashing — and found a man in a grey suit and tie standing in front of her, his eyes big as saucers, a suitcase in his hand.

  Shit.

  The Ettin had begun to fizzle, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She jumped to her feet and stood behind its hulking form and Finn. “You’re not taking him.”

  The creature let out a long-drawn whine and its clawed feet clicked on the concrete of the sidewalk. A flame belched out of its maw and then it fell backward, into the Veil. The rip swallowed the Ettin so hungrily Ella half expected a burp.

  “Ugly motherfucker.” Ella wiped a hand over her mouth, panting. “Burn in hell.”

  The threads whined, still thrumming, making her skin crawl.

  She turned to find Finn lying on his back on the sidewalk, the man in the suit bent over him.

  “Is he alive?” she asked, her heart thumping hard.

  The man looked up, his eyes still wide. “Yes,” he said.

  He spoke more words, but Ella couldn’t hear. She shoved him aside and dropped to her knees at Finn’s side. Pain in her hands reminded her she’d hurt them on the Ettin’s spines.

  “Finn.” She shook him until his eyes fluttered open. Half his face was bloody; a gash at his hairline was still bleeding. “What should I do? What do you need?”

  His lips moved. “I remember.”

  She shook her head, trying to get rid of the pounding pulse ricocheting inside her skull. “What?”

  “I remember the gun. Glamr. That’s its name.” Finn’s breathing came in short gasps.

  “Okay. Just breathe, Finn. You’ll be okay.” She bent over, sick with worry. “We’re going home.”

  Somehow.

  Chapter Six

  Fail

  Mike wasn’t answering his cell. Which was odd.

  But Scott did. He arrived in his pick-up truck, his boyish face screwed up in a deep frown. Mike was apparently out of town in a meeting and couldn’t make it.

  Huh. She had no idea Mike had out of town meetings. And why wouldn’t he answer the phone?

  Someone had called an ambulance and she was glad to have the cuts in her palms cleaned and wrapped up; grateful for the painkillers.

  As for Finn, he could move already. Looked like his Kevlar vest had prevented the Ettin from injecting much poison. Who knew Kevlar had such uses. She should tell Jefferson.

  Jefferson. Quite possibly the enemy. The thought brought a bitter taste to her mouth.

  Scott had sat Finn inside his pick-up and was fending off the paramedics. Good thing her friends still had brain function, unlike her. She felt she was wading through molasses, everything going in slow motion. Too many fights, too many tangents; too many unknowns. It boggled her mind.

  Find the tangle; find the snare. Fix the magic.

  Yeah, Dave. Piece of cake.

  At least no more wounds had appeared on Finn, which had to mean the dragon was now safe. Fingers and toes crossed. One thing less to worry about.

  She dialed Dave’s number, and again he didn’t answer. What was up with that? Did he think she’d chew his leg off for planting the tracker in Finn’s leg? She needed to know how to take it out — and why did he keep denying he planted the transmitter in his shoulder? Really, come on — who else had elven tech at a hand’s reach and the opportunity to insert it?

  Two women approached her. She recognized them vaguely as Bureau agents. They said they’d received a call from a hysterical passerby reporting flashing lights and a man being dragged in the street by beings made of fire. A low level voyant, probably.

  Ella gave them a brief report and in return they promised to see that her car door was fixed and the car returned to her address.

  The Bureau sometimes had nice tricks up its sleeve for its employees. Sadly the money would be taken out of her salary, but she’d worry about that later.

  Ella thanked them and returned to Scott’s pick-up to find him arguing with a paramedic.

  “There’s blood on him,” the paramedic was saying, gesturing at Finn who leaned back in the passenger seat, a hand on his shoulder where the mark was. “He was lying in the street when we arrived and—”

  “He’s fine,” Scott said and patted
Finn’s arm through the open window.

  “He’ll have to sign a treatment waiver.”

  “Pass it over.”

  Ella climbed into the back seat as Finn scrawled something that looked more like a map of the city rather than a signature. The paramedic took it without a word and hurried away.

  Wow. Finn’s glower had to be breathtaking.

  Ella almost felt sorry for the guy, but the painkillers were kicking in and her muscles were relaxing. She slumped back as Scott slid behind the wheel.

  The car rolled into the traffic, leaving the strobing lights of the ambulance behind.

  “Didn’t know Mike was out of town,” Ella muttered, because it bothered her that Mike had never mentioned it. His boss rarely sent him further than the suburbs. “Whose books is he checking today?”

  Scott took a moment to answer. “I don’t know.”

  And Ella knew he was lying. It set off all sorts of alarms in her head. She couldn’t help it, not after learning Jefferson was Finn’s wannabe murderer — at least it looked that way — and that Simon was FBI. Too much — the shock of handling the threads and defeating the Ettin; the worry about the poison in Finn’s blood, because Finn would act like he was fine even if he was drawing his last breath.

  Her hands fisted at her sides.

  Scott remained silent during the rest of the ride, which was unlike him, and it wasn’t helping the flutter of nerves in her stomach.

  He parked right outside the building entrance and went around the car to help Finn out. Which turned out to be a good idea as, despite the cool front, Finn leaned so heavily against Scott it was a miracle he was still standing. Stubbornness could only take him that far as his body fought the paralyzing poison.

  Finn said nothing when Ella put his arm around her shoulders and nodded at Scott. Together they half-carried him to the elevator, his feet dragging, and then to the apartment door. She had to pull away to work the tricky lock with her key until it opened, leaving Scott to maneuver him inside. He deposited Finn on the sofa, then proceeded to kneel and work Finn’s boots off.

  She unclipped her holster and put it on the corner table, then wandered to the sofa and sank down on the cushions by Finn’s side.