Dear god. He was sprawled back and looked like death warmed over, bloodied and pale.
Just another day in the life of John Grey.
Scott left to find the medic-kit, and when he returned, he passed her a wet gauze. She wiped the blood off Finn’s forehead and cheek, and stuck a Band-Aid over the cut in his hair line. Finn’s gaze rested on her face, bright.
“Are you okay?” Scott then started on Finn’s Kevlar vest, loosening the straps. “You two need anything?”
Finn didn’t seem to even notice. Under the vest, his sweater was stained with blood, and Scott wrinkled his nose.
Ella sniffed herself and gagged. Blood, sweat and general sourness.
Time to clean up. Dredge up some energy first from somewhere. There were those pistachios in the kitchen cupboard. Hell, she’d drink the barbecue sauce from the bottle. Who knew using magic made one so hungry?
Scott tried to lift Finn’s sweater to check where the blood came from, and Finn’s fingers clamped around his wrist, stopping him.
“Just making sure you’re not still bleeding, man.”
“I’m fine,” Finn muttered.
“At least let me help you to bed. Ella said you got some sort of paralytic in your bloodstream.” He threw her a questioning look. “Shouldn’t he see a doctor? I know he’s an elf and super macho and stuff, but still...”
“I can move,” Finn said and that, apparently, was the end of the discussion for him.
Ella drew a deep breath and almost gagged again. “We’re great, thanks, Scott. Honest. Thanks for coming for us.”
Scott got up, frowning. He shuffled his feet, sticking his hands into his pockets. “Are you sure? I should get back to work, but I don’t want to leave you guys like that.” He gestured toward the kitchen. “I could make you something to eat first.”
“With what? There’s nothing to cook with.”
“That, um, isn’t true. There’s bread and ham and tomatoes, and Mike brought over some oatmeal and milk and stuff because you once told him Finn likes it, so...”
Oh god, could one self-combust with embarrassment? She picked at the bandages wrapped around her hands. “You filled our cupboards?”
Scott rubbed the back of his neck. “Mike said you can pay him later, if you want.”
“Damn right I will.”
Scott nodded and left quickly, closing the door hard behind him.
She really didn’t deserve friends like that. Though she still wondered where Mike was and why Scott wouldn’t tell her.
Awh fuck it. “I’ll make oatmeal.” She stood up and headed to the kitchen, feeling Finn’s gaze on her back like a flare of fire.
***
It was much later. Night had fallen, and the doorbell was ringing.
Fucked-up timing, as always. And she hadn’t even had the chance to talk to Finn who’d been dozing on the sofa about what had happened — the threads and how she’d manipulated them.
Ella grabbed a towel and stepped out of the shower, dripping all over the tiles. She’d used waterproof Band-aids on the cuts in her palms but maybe she should change them.
The doorbell rang again.
“Just a second!” She tiptoed to the bedroom to grab her clothes and pulled them on in record speed. She burst into the living room just in time.
Finn was half-way up, holding onto the sofa for balance, his gun in his other hand. Figured he wouldn’t sit back, not even when his legs shook and his hand trembled. Yeah, maybe it took a lot of Ettin blood to bring him down, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t affecting him.
“Calm down,” she said, crossing the room. “Maybe it’s Mike or Scott, come to check on you.”
The peephole showed her an empty corridor, which made her frown, but then a blond head entered her field of vision and she swallowed a sigh.
She opened the door. “Mom. What are you doing here?”
“You won’t answer my phone calls or messages. What’s a mother to do?”
Ah, melodrama. Linda was in her element. She patted her perfect retro blond waves a la Marilyn as she stepped inside, her heels clicking on the floor. She wore a knee-length pencil skirt and a grey button-down blouse, looking as if she’d just stepped out of a Hollywood Fifties movie set. Her red lipstick was blinding.
“Look, Mom, this isn’t a good time. Finn’s been under the weather and—”
Linda paled and took a step back.
Curious, Ella turned. Ah, right. Finn had the gun trained on Linda, his gaze laser-sharp and focused. The effect was sort of spoiled by the fact tremors went through his body and the gun kept dipping — but Linda probably didn’t notice such details.
Couldn’t really blame her.
Ella approached Finn carefully, keeping her movements slow and smooth. She circled him, and his gaze flicked in her direction. “Put down the gun,” she said, hardening her voice. “Now, Finn.”
He frowned. His hands lowered, shaking so badly she lunged for the gun before he dropped it. She pushed him back and he wind-milled, falling back on the sofa with a gasp. He lay wide-eyed, his face a mask of shock.
Sorry, babe. “As I was saying...”
“Scott, Mike’s nice room mate, said Finn was hurt,” Linda blurted, wringing her hands together. “I thought you might need help taking care of him.”
Whoa, had she gotten over the shock of having a gun pointed at her already? And hadn’t she noticed Finn wasn’t laid out, waiting to be spoon-fed? Okay, that was because he was a tough, stubborn fucker, but still. The gun? The glare? Hadn’t she paid any attention?
“I’m fine, mom, really. Finn’s okay, he’s just—”
Linda moved surprisingly fast for someone in such high heels and such a narrow skirt. Ella gaped as her mother slid right next to Finn and grabbed his hands.
What. The. Hell.
“Finn, honey, how’re you feeling?” Linda batted her mascara-laden lashes and leaned closer, peering into Finn’s face. “Your hands are so cold. Ella, could you bring that blanket over?”
Ella held her breath, waiting for Finn to deck her mother, or at least shove her out of his personal space. Waited for the glare to fall into place, for his lips to peel back.
Nothing happened. Finn gave a slow blink, looked down at his hands held in Linda’s smaller ones, and didn’t move a muscle.
Maybe the paralytic was finally working?
“Ella. The blanket.” Linda let go of Finn’s hands and bent over to rummage in her large bag. “I’ve brought the ingredients to make a soup. It’ll warm you up.”
Ella couldn’t move. She felt as if she’d stepped into an episode of the Twilight Zone. Linda was going to make a soup? “You can cook?”
Linda’s penciled brows drew together. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Ella shrugged and went to retrieve the blanket from the armchair. She brought it over, shook it out and draped it over Finn’s legs. His stillness was unnerving her.
“Sit with him,” her mother said. “He’s always so relaxed around you.” She grabbed her bag. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Okay.” Ella sank on the sofa next to Finn, feeling her eyes go round. “Who are you and what have you done with my mom?”
Linda sighed. “I took care of you when you were sick. I raised you. You loved soup. I used to make you a tomato and cheese one, it was your favorite. Have you forgotten?”
A warm hand on her cheek, a smile, steaming bowls of soup, her father’s happy laughter... She had forgotten. Ella bit her lip. “Why now?”
Linda stopped on her way to the kitchen. She didn’t turn as she said, “You need me now. We may not always get along, but you’re my daughter and I love you.” She’d reached the kitchen door when she said, “And Finn’s a cutie.”
But by then Ella was hardly paying attention. Her eyes had filled up and she could hardly see.
Finn reached up, touching her face. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s...?” She sputtered. “Why did you let her... How did
you...?” She sniffled. “Why didn’t you push her off like last time?”
His expression grew dark. “Did you want me to?”
“What? God, no.” Not really, at any rate. “I know I can’t take good care of you—”
His fingers shifted, brushing over her lips. “You take good care of me.”
“Not true.” Muffled.
“She’s your mother,” Finn said.
Yeah, no question about that, but... “So?”
“She’s not here for me.” Finn gave her a serious look. “She’s here for you.”
***
The soup was good, and sitting there, around the coffee table with their bowls was...nice, Ella supposed. Cozy.
Also weird, but she tried not to dwell on that. Finn’s skin was warming up at last, a light flushing rising to his cheeks, and Ella had to take the bowl out of his hands when his head began to droop.
Linda got up to go, whispering and making funny faces, and okay, Ella still had whiplash from the change in her mother. She didn't think it would last, either. Had to be a phase.
She’d gone to the bedroom to throw on her old cardigan, when a voice drifted over from the hall, a male bass.
Dave? That was two surprise visits in one evening.
Frowning, Ella slid back into the living-room. “Dave, what are you doing here?”
“Yes, coffee would be nice,” Dave groused, “and yes I’m fine, thank you, how are you?”
“Oh, cut the crap. You only drop by when something bad has happened.”
“Actually I just happened to be in the neighborhood.”
“And you thought you’d come by for coffee?”
Finn was watching the exchange from under lowered lashes, arms folded over his chest where he sat on the sofa.
“I heard Finn makes a mean pot of coffee,” Dave said and wagged his brows.
Scary.
Ella threw her hands up in the air. “Fine. Come on in. Have you found out anything about Jeff? How’s the dragon?”
“Dragon’s fine, sends her regards. No sign of Jeff Somesby, which could mean just about anything.” He waved a hand. “I take milk and sugar, by the way.”
Ella turned and headed to the kitchen, muttering under her breath. What was Dave doing? She wanted to grab him by the scruff of his long coat and punch him right in the face — for everything; for shooting Finn, for implanting living metal in his body, for lying.
Wanted to sit him down and ask him more questions, because he was the only one who might have answers.
She was driving herself crazy.
Just as she stepped over to the fridge to grab the milk, she heard her boss talking in a low voice. What the hell was he telling Finn?
Grabbing the sugar and the coffee pot, she went to stand at the living-room door. Finn was nodding at something Dave had said. He glanced at her, a flicker of his eyes. He was deathly pale.
Shit. Ella marched into the living room and placed the coffee on the table. “There you go. Can I help you with something, Dave?”
“No.” Dave gave Finn a long, hard look. “You don’t believe what I tell you, that I have your best interests at heart. So I don’t expect you to.”
“Really?” Ella got in Dave’s face and lifted her chin. “You’ve got something to say, you can say it to me.”
Dave shook his head. He nodded at the table. “That my coffee?” He gulped it down. “Thanks.”
Ella turned to Finn who looked as if he’d seen a ghost. “What happened?”
“I have to be on my way,” Dave said, putting the cup down and smiling. “Good coffee, Finn. Thumbs up. Oh and by the way, I have set up two bodyguards for you. They’re standing outside, so holler if you need their help. They have instructions to follow you at a distance whenever you leave, so don’t shoot them, okay? Good day.”
And he left, pulling the door closed behind him.
Okay, she was glad for the bodyguards, but that had been weird much?
Ella waved a hand in front of Finn’s face. “Hey. What did he tell you? Finn.”
“He asked...” Finn blinked and frowned. “He asked about the cave in my dreams. Said you told him about it. Asked what else I remember.”
She took a step back, feeling as if she’d been sucker-punched. Dave had gone around her back and basically told Finn she’d betrayed his trust.
Finn’s grey eyes stared right through her, sharp and intent. Yet his voice was soft, barely more than an exhalation, when he asked, “What else did you tell him?”
“Finn, listen.” She swallowed, her throat dry. “You’d had that seizure in the street, and he’d called me to get you out of the car, and then he carried you and drove us home, and I had no proof of a transmitter or anything, and then—”
“What did you say?” Each word hard and jagged.
“That I can’t share your dreams. That I can’t affect them. And that it’s probably the reason your power isn’t growing.” She wiped her hands down her pants. “I, um. Did I say I’m sorry? Because I am. But I don’t have anywhere else to turn for help.”
He shot to his feet and limped across the living room before she had a chance to say another word.
“Wait!” She rushed after him, hurrying out into the corridor, ready to stop him from breaking more doors.
Silence. Finn stood with his back to the wall. His hair fell in his face, but his eyes glittered through, angry and a little wild. When he saw her, he thumped his fists back into the wall — and the scary thing was that he left indents, sending small clouds of white dust into the air.
Ella waited, ice trickling down her spine. She’d never had his anger — the fury that made him put his fist through doors and walls — turned fully on her. “God, I’m so sorry.” Apologizing a hundred times wouldn’t undo the damage, would it? “I just have no clue what to do next, and that seizure really scared me. If anything had happened to you...” She shook her head.
Finn lifted her chin higher, his eyes narrowing to slits, his lips peeling back. “I told you he can’t help me.”
“You did. I know. But If I have to choose between Dave making you stronger to use as his tool, and letting you die or be kidnapped by the Shades, goddammit, I’d always choose Dave. When you’re strong you can fight Dave back, but not before.”
The air rippled and she took another step back. Between them, the air boiled. Christ.
The Gate stretched like a mirror, bisecting the corridor, distorting Finn’s features. It was one of those ‘closed’ Gates he could create, like a glass pane through parts of Aelfheim became visible without allowing access. Snow fell inside the mirror, thick flakes fluttering, swirling in a spiral.
“Can we talk?” she asked, doing her best to keep her voice steady. Finn’s image was disappearing behind the Gate, and Ella wondered what would happen if she touched it. “Like, face to face?” She bit her lip. “Damn, Finn, I can’t do this on my own. I can’t even feed you, keep you from getting hurt. I don’t know how to do this, this magic stuff... I was trained to fight the Shades, not to move the threads or change other people’s memories. And I...” God, it was so hard to admit. “I’m so fucking scared. That one day I’ll be too late.”
The Gate shimmered, growing opaque, and began to fade.
Finn was staring at her, his eyes wide, still glowing with magic. Then he lowered his gaze. He tilted his head to the side, blew silvery strands off his face.
The air cleared and stilled.
Ella held her breath.
“He said you’re pissed with him,” Finn said, his voice down to a whisper.
“I am.”
“He said he didn’t implant the transmitter. Said he put a tracker in my leg.”
She nodded, staring at the tiles. It was like a reversal of roles — Finn talking, her barely answering.
“He wants to meet with someone from the Organization to talk about what I remember.”
She looked up. “You’ll do it?”
He let out a long breath. “I think
... you were right to tell Dave.”
A breath went out of her. “You won’t kill me today, then? Or do you need to sharpen your knives first?”
“My knives are always sharp.” One corner of his mouth lifted, then the other.
A Finn smile, faint and yet bright. Real. He put out his hand and she took it, let him pull flush against him, pressed against his booming heart.
“I’ll go along,” he whispered against her hair. “But I still only trust you.”
“I hope you won’t regret it,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, “and god, I’m glad.”
Chapter Seven
Time
Finn pulled her into the bedroom like a man on a mission. She was still thinking of Dave’s backhanded move and the mess she was supposed to untangle, when Finn’s mouth crushed hers and her mind shut down.
He tugged on the hem of her shirt and she raised her arms, letting him take it off. She did the same for him and ran her hands over his hard chest, mapping the scars, the scabbed wounds and bruises.
Not letting her time to have her fill, he pushed her back until she fell on the bed.
Whoa. He was in a hurry. Frantic, almost. His lips were on her throat, her breasts, as he tore at the straps of her bra, snapping them.
“Hey...” Ella tried to catch her breath as he lay on top of her, aroused and shaking. “Slow down.”
He buried his face in her neck, shuddering, and his movements stopped. God he smelled good — intoxicating, his light musk of arousal mixed with the scent of clean soap. She brushed her fingertips over the scars running down his spine and he gasped.
“Let me,” she whispered and gently pushed him off, rolled him on his back. She pressed by his side and pushed his draw-string pants down, holding his bright gaze. There was a question in it and she smiled at him as she trailed her fingers down his flat stomach, inching toward his hard length.
And wrapped her hand around it.
Finn gasped and surged into her touch. He was so goddamn beautiful, laid out bare for her, his body straining upward, his hands balling in the sheets to keep still.
Boreal and John Grey Season 2 Page 31
