Boreal and John Grey Season 2 (13 page)

“It’s the sea,” she said, not stopping, pulling him toward her favorite place. “The ocean. Don’t you have one in your world?”

The wind whistled in her ears and his hand was warm in hers. She glanced back at him. He had a strange expression on his face.

“We have frozen seas,” he said. “White snow deserts. Nothing moves there.”

She imagined Aelfheim to be like the Arctic: icebergs, miles of ice and snow, polar bears, polar foxes, polar rabbits...

She wasn’t entirely sure about this last one, but who cared. Polar mice, too. They'd be cute. 

A trail wound up on the rocks over the sea and her feet knew the way. They climbed up over the cliffs and then back down to an old water exit. The stone formed a seat there, a throne with space for two. She sat and waited for Finn to do the same, lowering his bad leg first. 

They sat in silence as the ocean growled and muttered below their feet, water splashing and white foam licking the black rocks. A seagull flew overhead, circling. The wind whined through the cracks in the stone like a badass mosquito.

“I used to come here with my parents when I was little,” Ella whispered. The place always robbed her of breath. “Isn’t it awesome?”

He nodded, his arm snaking around her waist, pulling her close. She clutched his sweater, inhaled his musky scent, and thought she felt happy — in spite of the danger, the mess, the chaos. She’d never been happier than sitting on that rock over the waves with Finn’s arm around her.

“Finn...” She closed her eyes, leaning into the warmth of his body, rubbing her cheek on the rough fabric. “How did you know how the poison of the
Ettin
worked?”

She heard his breath hitch. Frowning, she drew back.

“I don’t...” His eyes were wide, staring at nothing. “The poison paralyzes you, but you can still feel everything. Pain, pleasure... Everything. I know this, but I don’t know how.”

The cozy moment was over. They had to talk and the sound of the wind would cover their voices. “Did they inject that into your veins in that cave where Asmodr was? When you hung over that table?” She shivered. “Despite the pain, you couldn’t move. I thought it was the restraints, but I—”

“Can’t remember.” He scrambled up, hanging onto the rock as his knee buckled, and started to climb up the rock face.

“Finn, wait, dammit.” She hurried after him, feeling like a thug. “I’m sorry.” She wanted to rewind time and let him be happy again. How could her timing suck so badly? “Finn!”

She scaled the jagged rocks, climbing onto the platform, trying to see him — and stopped in her tracks, one booted foot resting in a hollow.

An enormous shadow blotted out the cloudy sky, growing larger and larger. It landed with a deep boom, shaking the rocky platform. Opalescent feathers, gleaming in the yellow pre-storm light, a crest of polished bone, wings spread wide. Smoke swirled from flared nostrils and the cavernous mouth opened, revealing rows of dagger-like teeth.

Her dragon.

Finn’s
dragon.

Holy shit.
What was the creature doing there?

Then she saw Finn. He hurried toward the dragon who’d laid her head down, the only thing giving him away his dark sweater; his pale skin and hair blending perfectly with the white scales.

Fucking hell, the dragon was there, with them, on the rocks above the waves.

“What’s she doing here?” Ella snapped. She hoped she didn’t sound jealous or anything.

Finn glanced at her over his shoulder. Jesus Christ, he had a hand resting on the huge snout, right next to those razor-sharp, sword-like teeth.

“Come,” he said. “Would you like to meet her?”

Meet her?
Oh god.
Was that going to be Finn’s pet? Cuddle on their bed at night? Rub against their feet?

Ella realized she felt dizzy. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Being close to the dragon, touching its snout, inviting me to become friends with her... The whole package was madness.

“She needs to get used to you,” Finn said.

She’s hungry and needs a snack, you mean.
“I’m not coming any closer. You can’t make me.”

He shot her a smile and her resolve to stay back melted away.

Damn.

She stalked carefully over the rocks, the dragon towering higher and higher as she approached. Even crouching low it was a mountain of snowy flesh and feathers.  

Jesus, Mary and Joseph.
Ella tried to think of more protectors she could appeal to.

Then the dragon lifted her head and Ella’s knees trembled. Okay, nerves of steel, nerves of steel. You can do this, secret agent Benson.

The dragon’s talons scraped the rocks, leaving white grooves in the black surface. From so close, the scales looked transparent, as if made of crystal, and the horns on her head rose like the rays of a sun.

“She’s a friend,” Finn muttered, patting the dragon’s neck as if it were a horse or a dog.

Yeah, get the creature in your lap to scratch behind her ears and we’ll see how you like it.

The wind was rising around them, howling in the crevices of the rocks. Ella took another step, which brought her next to one clawed paw, and boy was that a frigging bad idea. One swipe and she’d be history, dashed over the rocks, if not dismembered.

Finn murmured something, lost in the moaning of the wind, and the dragon lowered her head, laying it down. It stretched like a small car in front of Ella, its yellow eye a window set in the scaly wall, regarding her.

“What do I do?” Ella hissed, her heart trying to pound its way through her chest. “Should I have brought carrots? Chocolates? A goat?” 

“Put your hand here, let her feel you.”

“You mean, smell me?” Like dogs did?

“Like this.” Finn again placed his hand on the dragon’s muzzle. “She can feel.”

Yeah, okay. Whatever.
Ella swallowed hard and put her hand next to Finn’s. The dragon’s flesh was warm and rough, the scales moving under her palm with tiny clicks.
Like a giant iguana
, Ella thought, except for the wings, the horns, the frigging size and the smoke coming out of the nostrils.

Not to forget the way those eyes looked at her, narrowing and widening, as if the dragon could read Ella’s thoughts and found them amusing.

“How intelligent is she?” Ella leaned closer to Finn and fought to keep the tremor out of her voice. “Can she... I don’t know, talk?”

“She can feel.”

Again with that.
“Feel what exactly?”

Finn touched two fingers to his brow. “The magic in you. Your connection to me.”

“Oh right. I...” She gulped when something flashed in her mind, an image but not quite. Blurry like an old memory, stinging with sorrow and singing with joy, a song but without sound, a reel but without form...

It was gone.

“What was that? Shit, Finn, did you...?”

“She says hi.” Finn’s smile turned into a wide grin.

Very funny. Okay, okay. Not freaky at all. “Did you know she’d be here?”

“I wanted her to meet you.”

Ella stared at her hand, still held against the dragon’s hide, and caught the yellow gaze above. “You told her to come here,” she said, her voice barely making it past her throat. “You communicate with her.”

Finn turned his face away, hiding it in the dragon’s neck. He nodded. “I’m her rider.”

***

The beach house kitchenette was barely bigger than a closet, but it had an electric cooker, and a small window brought in the salty scent of the sea and showed an expanse of dark night sky.

“Making salad again?” Finn’s voice rumbled in her ear, scaring the holy shit out of her.

“Salad’s good for you,” she said automatically, her skin breaking out in gooseflesh. This was like a
deja vu
. His scent filled her senses and his body was warm against her back. “But in fact I’m attempting a dessert.” She winked at him over her shoulder. “Pancakes.”

Oh god.
He wore a sleeveless white shirt that stretched over his broad chest like second skin, outlining every taut muscle. Was it suddenly too hot inside the kitchenette? She glanced at the electric cooker.
Huh.
She’d have sworn it was on.

Finn cocked his head to the side, as if parsing her words. “Pancakes.”

Jesus, the way he said it, low and dark... Like an alcohol shot straight to the brain. Desire spiraled down her body, expanding into a storm-front of fire.

Enough of cooking. She’d punish Finn for interrupting her by pressing him up against the wall for a security pat-down.

But just when she decided to go through with her plan, Finn turned around and left, leaving her to stare at his cute ass as it disappear through the door.

What the hell?

Right, he was leaving her to finish her cooking. Cooking was important in Finn’s book.
Food
was important.

Getting Finn naked was infinitely more important, though, and besides, she was so distracted she’d probably burn the house down if she continued.

She stalked into the open living-room, expecting to find Finn in the midst of his exercises — a habit he wasn’t likely to break because of a mere excursion to the beach. He followed his routines religiously every morning — often before the break of dawn, though that was most probably due to the nightmares. She loved watching him as he moved gracefully, sliding from position to position.

Talking of positions...
She almost growled at the images the word conjured.

Then she stopped in her tracks.

Finn stood by the French windows, rubbing at his chest. His head came up when she approached, his pupils so dilated his eyes looked black. He seemed lost in memory, not all there.

Ella walked up to him and wound her arms around his neck. “You left in a hurry.”

He looked down at her, his gaze heating. He kissed her then, a soft nip at first, then slow, deep, cupping her face in his hands. His breathing changed, quickening, and he pressed against her, all hard lines and satiny skin.

She pulled back, her breath locked inside her lungs. She wanted him with a fierceness that almost stopped her heart. She wanted to mark him, brand him, keep him. Yeah, keep him always with her, to make sure of his wide smile, the sounds of pleasure he’d make, the light of glad surprise in his eyes.

She nudged him backward until he fell on the sofa, his eyes glittering, dark with desire. She’d always followed his lead in their lovemaking, had felt he needed to take control at least in this one aspect in his life. Had delighted in watching him explore, in his touch, gentle and tentative, his great strength tightly restrained. She could feel it now, coiled in his muscled arms that lay deceptively lax on the cushions.

“Let me,” she whispered, bending over him, sliding her hands under his t-shirt, mapping the shifting muscles of his stomach, his ribs, the raised scar running from his heart to his navel.

His eyes shone, filled with trust.

Hers, he was hers, and she’d make sure he could forget his memories, his nightmares and the world for one night.

Chapter Six

Broken

Ella slept badly, flashes of frozen plains and huge, tower-like vehicles invading her dreams. Villages with colorful fences streamed by, as if she was flying, shooting through the air, and a sense of dread overlay everything like a foul smell.

Smell of spilled blood and acrid sweat, a clamor of frightened voices, a wail carried on the wind.

This was Finn’s world, Finn’s memory. Where was he?

Whispers swirled on the air like snowflakes, threats and curses.
‘You’d better hurry, accursed boy. You’re not free of us
.’

She slowed, her feet landing, sinking in soft snow, trying to listen.

‘If you don’t obey, you’ll find yourself back in your bonds.’ 

She took a few steps in the snow. “Hello? Who’s there?”

No reply.

An immense structure jutted out of the plain to her left.
A mountain?
A rock pinnacle?
It had been carved into the shape of a figure, a gigantic statue staring over the snow-covered expanse.

Someone was walking toward it, a faint, pale silhouette, moving like a ghost across the snow-covered ground. Light flashed on a set of broad shoulders and long, silver hair.

Ella started after him before she even knew what she was doing. “Finn, wait!”

What was that place and why was he heading there? It had a sinister air about it and she glanced again at the narrow face carved in the rock, the eyes that gazed impassively over the plain.

A watch tower, she thought, trudging in the snow. A look-out of the Light Elves, because the caves were nearby, the entrances to the world under. Finn was returning to base, returning...

... because he’d been set free from the Dark Elves’ clutches, from the
Aesir
Commander’s torture chamber.
For what?

The figure came to a stop, staring up at the carved face. She started to run, trying to catch up before he set off again, and as he half-turned, she saw his face. It was Finn alright, his face skeletal thin, drawn in a grimace.

Something long, like a metal tube, glinted in his hand.
A gun?

Finn’s hand jerked as if against his will, and the tube fell. He took a step back, arms wind-milling, and almost lost his balance.

But he didn’t. A huge shudder went through his body and he stopped; straightened. Fear radiated in waves from his frame, a bone-deep terror she could feel through their connection. He bent over to retrieve the gun.

“Finn!” She was now close enough to see the blank expression on his face, one she’d come to know well.

Finn couldn’t hear her.

He turned his back to her, his long white cloak falling around him like a mist, and resumed his hike toward the watchtower.

***

The call from Dave wasn’t all that unexpected. After waking up and finding Finn sitting in bed, his face pale and eyes unfocused, she’d guessed it was only a matter of time before she learned things were worse than just a nightmare.

But as it turned out, it wasn’t a Gate.

“There was a sighting of the dragon in the area of the bay,” Dave said. “A hiker said he saw something huge and white fly over the cliffs. I don’t know whether to believe him or not, but I thought to check with you.”

“Haven’t noticed anything,” Ella lied with the ease of long practice. They’d packed and she sat in the car, waiting for Finn to come out. When he did, he took his time walking to the car. He looked a little unsteady on his feet, though she knew better than to offer help. “We’re heading back to the city.”

The storm clouds had gathered, hanging dark and low over their heads. She really hoped to get to the city before it hit.

“There’s one more thing.” Dave hesitated. “Found a piece of tech that may be elven. It may have fallen through some time ago, we can’t be sure, but I’d like Finn to come have a look.”

Tech. Whoa.

The car door opened and Finn entered, letting in a blast of frigid air. He fell onto the seat with a grunt and fumbled with his seat belt.

Setting her jaw, Ella revved the engine and turned on the heater. “Roger that, Dave. We’re on our way.”

Finn stared straight ahead as she drove along the coast, searching for the entry onto the highway. His hands were clenched on his thighs, his knuckles white.

“What did Dave find?” he asked as they raced back toward the city, its buildings jutting into the leaden sky.

“Tech. Said he wants you to have a look. Could be from an old Gate.”

God, she certainly hoped so. Besides, the dream hadn’t been bad enough to open a Gate, had it? True, it had a sense of foreboding and dread and had left Finn pretty shaken, but it wasn’t the bone-jarring, heart-wrenching horrible memory that usually led to a breakthrough to another world.

Right?

Finn twitched, jerking against the seat belt. He grabbed his arm, cradling it to his chest.

“You okay?” Ella gave him a quick glance. Why was he holding his arm like that?

He said nothing, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

Well, fine.
He needed rest.

No rain yet, which was a good thing. Ella hated traveling on the highway with low visibility. They entered the suburbs and Christmas lights in storefronts blinked, while in the distance lightning flashed.

Dave’s directions led her to a quiet neighborhood near Ashton Park, an area of old houses with white picket fences and tall, old trees. It seemed like the most unlikely place to hunt for elven tech.
Then again...

She turned to Finn as she parked. “Have you ever been here?”

He gave her a wary look. “I think so. Shade attack. Months ago.”

She relaxed. The Gate, if that was what it was, had to be that old. Now curiosity was getting the better of her. She’d never seen elven tech.

Getting out, she scanned the street. Dave’s green sedan was stationed around the corner. Finn levered himself out of the car, his motions slow and tired. He took a moment leaning against the car before he pushed off to follow her, his mouth twisting in a grimace.

Barometric pressure changes, humidity rising. No wonder he was in pain. Her own bad leg throbbed.

Making a mental note to go shopping for extra strong painkillers, as well as vitamins and energy boosters for Finn — hell, for both of them — she checked her gun until he caught up with her. He had his jacket zipped up and his hands stuffed in the pockets. 

She gave him a moment to catch his breath, decided to put the physiotherapist on speed dial, and they set off together. A drizzle began as they rounded the corner, annoying as hell.

Three people stood on the sidewalk, staring at something over a fence. Two of them wore Bureau technician jackets with yellow stripes and the logo of their department on the back.

The other was Dave.

“Hey, boss.” Ella shoved her hands into her pockets and wished she were home with a pot of hot, sweet tea and cookies. “Where’s the find?”

Dave glanced at Finn who’d stopped, his teeth obviously gritting, and lifted a brow. “Here.” He pointed into the front yard of a dilapidated house where the weeds had reached waist height.

Which explained why nobody had reported this so far.

The technicians vaulted over the fence and Ella followed their example. Finn leaned against the wooden spikes, then carefully climbed over. When he jumped into the garden, his knees buckled and Ella grabbed him just in time, saving him from falling flat on his face.

Okay, what the hell?

She patted his shoulder, avoiding Dave’s gaze, and pretended all was fine. She pasted on a smile and made a show of adjusting her belt while waiting for Finn to straighten, her heart pounding.

The find was partly obscured by the overgrown weeds. Ella edged closer, seeing the glint of metal in the grass. The piece wasn’t very big, less than five feet long and two feet wide. Silver and squarish, like a panel, with indentations and protrusions forming patterns. Spirals, of course — now she saw them just about everywhere — but also rectangles, long wiggly lines and blossom-like shapes.

The rain was now falling in earnest, soaking their clothes, washing the tech clean so that it shone. Whiter than steel, obviously not affected by the passage of time.

“So is it?” Dave crossed his arms over the fence. “Your tech?”

The last was addressed to Finn who made an effort to move toward the metal chunk, although he seemed to be getting paler with each step. A feat of stubbornness that made Ella’s heart ache.

“Yes,” Finn said, wiping rainwater from his face. “Looks like ours.”

He bent over as if to study it, hands braced on his knees, but Ella could hear him wheeze. This was getting scary. She got he was exhausted from the nightmare and the lack of sleep, also that his leg was probably killing him, but why did he look like he was about to keel over?

“A piece from a wanderer,” Finn muttered and pointed at a carved pattern that didn’t look any different than the rest to Ella. “A defender. It’s dead.”

“What do you mean, it’s dead? And a defender of what?”

But Finn’s eyes closed and he folded quietly to the ground. 

Ella grabbed him as he toppled and fell on her knees, her arms around him, saving him from crashing onto the tech.

“What’s wrong with him?” Dave asked, and the technicians’ voices rose, too, but Ella tuned them out, holding on to Finn

He was out cold. Goddammit, what was wrong? Had something else changed in the Veil?  

“Is he breathing?” Dave asked by her ear, and she swore.

“Yes, he’s breathing. He’s just exhausted.”

“Why?”

“Not sleeping well.” Ella snapped her mouth shut, holding Finn’s head against her shoulder as the rain fell, cold and stinging — though not as cold as the pit of fear in her stomach. Was that blood dripping off Finn’s hand? She shook him. “Wake up!” She turned to Dave. “He’s hurt.”

“’M okay,” Finn mumbled, making an effort to push off her and failing.

“Let me help.” Dave knelt and got a good hold around Finn’s waist. “Let’s get him up.”

Together they hauled Finn to his feet. He was mostly dead weight and his lips were bloodless. His head rolled forward.

Dammit.

They moved toward the metal gate, opened by one of the technicians.

“So tell me,” Dave said as they exited onto the street, adjusting his hold on Finn. “Are you sure you didn’t see the dragon at the beach?”

“Damn you, Dave, I told you, no,” Ella snapped. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

“I might,” Dave said.

The other technician opened the car door and Finn roused enough to sit, his head falling back.

“He’s not bleeding much,” Dave said in the same voice he might have used to say ‘lots of traffic today’.

Ella was undoing Finn’s jacket, trying to assess the damage. She pulled up his black sweater. The white t-shirt underneath was stained with fresh blood, but as Dave had said, it wasn’t much; a thin streak and drops.

The rain kept falling, drenching her. She drew back. “If it’s not that he’s bleeding out, then what is it?”

Dave shrugged. “I think it’s shock. Better warm him up.”

“Shock? Why?”

“Well, when we got news of the dragon sighting I told you about, we sent an agent down there and he managed to get a shot in.”

Ella slid into the car, gathering Finn to her. His lids fluttered, his eyes half-opening, but his face went slack before he fully woke. “What’s shooting the dragon got to do with Finn?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.” Dave settled behind the wheel and started the car. “They say there’s a bond between a dragon and its rider. Do you think there’s any truth in that?”

Oh god.
She felt sick. “Is the dragon dead?”

“She flew away, although she was having trouble.” He hummed as he drove toward Ella’s neighborhood. “I told him to kill her. I hope you can hear me, Finn.” He shot them a glance through the rearview mirror. “I may not know much about elven tech, but I do know a thing or two about dragons, and quite a bit more about the Boreals.”

***

Dave stood by the window, the curtain tweaked back, staring out into the wall of rain. He turned when she entered the living room.

“How is he?”

Pale as death. Barely came around when she dabbed disinfectant and bandaged the round wound in his bicep that looked a lot like a bullet hole, dammit. But she’d taken off his wet clothes and covered him up, making sure he was warm before she left him to rest.