Boreal and John Grey Season 2 (14 page)

“He’s fine.” Rubbing her arms, still wet, she walked to stand next to Dave. “I take it the dragon was shot in the wing?”

Dave nodded.

The wound in the dragon’s wing had appeared in Finn’s arm.
Shit.

“How does this bond work?” Apart from the obvious: hurt the dragon, hurt Finn.

“Its strength depends on the individual rider and dragon. I hadn’t realized a bond had already formed between Finn and the creature.” Dave sighed, rubbed the back of his neck. “What worries me is anyone else finding out. It’s a weakness that could be used by the people who are after you.”

“They won’t know.” She pressed her mouth flat. “Unless you tell them. You haven’t told anyone, right?”

Dave shrugged. “Can’t remember if the possibility was raised. After all, Finn swore he’d kill the dragon and I thought the issue of the bond would never come up.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “You need to trust me, Ella. You and your partner. Things are much more complicated than they seem.”

What else was new? 

“Have you found out anything else about the sniper?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “About this inside job?”

“I’m doing what I can,” Dave said. “This tech... the Gate was old, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. Finn confirmed he’d been in the area some time ago.”

“Good.” Dave sagged a little. “Look, as Sarah may have told you, I know something changed in the Veil. And it’s no surprise: Finn closed the Gates, strengthened the threads, but he’s not that strong yet, and he’s not the only one with strong magic. He may not be interested in conquering other worlds, but others are.”

Like you?
Ella thought. “And your point is?”

“That I need to know what’s going on, not find out through others. If Sarah wasn’t an oracle, I wouldn’t have known of the changes in the Veil. If the dragon wasn’t shot, I wouldn’t have known Finn formed a bond with her. What else aren’t you telling me?”

Oh god, if you knew...
Ella bit her lip. Then she remembered that Dave was listening in, even in their most private moments, that Sarah was most probably his spy, and not to forget, he’d shot Finn instead of giving him a chance to talk, so... “I’ll let you know if there’s anything new. Thanks for helping bring Finn home.”

Dave sighed, shook his head. “Sure thing.” When he turned to go, though, a wince tightened his face.

“Hey. Are you okay?” The question was out of Ella’s mouth before she realized and it hung in the air for a long moment. 

“I can feel the change in the Veil,” Dave said, his voice uncharacteristically low. He rapped a fist on his chest. “Right here.”

“In your machinery?” Ella frowned. “Why would you feel it?”

But Dave didn’t answer. He turned and walked out, closing the door behind him.

Interesting.
It felt like an important clue, though she couldn’t know what it might mean.

Yet.

***

“Hey, girl, would you like to come over for Thanksgiving dinner?” Mike’s cheerful voice over the phone jarred Ella from her daze.

“Thanksgiving.”
Right.
Because people went on with their lives, the earth still turned and dinners would be cooked no matter how messed up her own life was. “When is it?”

“In a few days. You sound off. Something happen?”

A sure bet with her and Finn. “Yeah. Listen... I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Okay. Take care, girl.”

She disconnected, rubbing her forehead. Worry ate at her insides, and she had a sudden urge to check on Finn.

He wasn’t in the bedroom and she swallowed down panic.
Cool it, Ella.
A sound from the bathroom had her turning her steps that way.

The door was open. Something glinted through the opening.

A blade.

“Hey.” She barged inside and grabbed Finn’s wrist, her heart hammering. “What are you doing?”

He jerked his arm free, saying nothing, his jaw tight. He held one of his knives but didn’t seem hurt.

It was then she realized she’d been afraid. Terrified, that he might decide to end his life. It’d solve the problem, wouldn’t it? It’d end the game of power and cancel the possibility of an invasion.

Oh god.
Her eyes stung as she took a step back, trying to control herself. And froze again.

Tufts of silver hair like feathers covered the sink. She turned her gaze back to Finn, and it finally sank in that his hair was now shorter, its uneven ends hanging barely past his jaw.

He’d hacked it off.

“Why?” she whispered, her mind an echoing blank.

He shook his head and put down the knife. In the mirror, his pupils looked dilated, darkening his gaze.

Was it some sort of mourning ritual? Or was it simply a reaction to frustration and anger at being unable to protect his own, to remember his past and find his power?

“Let me help you,” Ella said, hoping her voice wouldn’t break. “Please.”

Finn bowed his head, leaned over the sink. “How?”

Just that one word, loaded with so much bitterness.

Yeah, Ella, how?

“I dreamed of a huge building on a plain,” she whispered. “Carved in the shape of a person, a face. A tower.”

Finn turned slowly, a vein pulsing in his neck. “Frontier tower.”

“Were you in one?”

He nodded. “With the army.”

“I saw you return from somewhere. You held something long, like a machine gun.”

Finn stilled. It was as if every muscle in his body, every joint froze. “Return.”

“Yeah, returning from somewhere. A voice was saying things inside my head, about death and time running out. What were you looking for?”

Suddenly Finn pushed past her, punching the door on his way out, cracking it.

Her mouth fell open. She leaped forward and caught his arm but he continued, dragging her along toward the living room.

“Leave me... I can’t...” He stopped, panting. “Can’t talk about the dreams.”

She released him, a lump in her throat.

He staggered to the sofa and dropped on it, digging his fingers in his hair. It fell on his forehead, into his eyes, brushed his jaw like a silver curtain. The bandage on his arm was blood-stained. He stretched his bad leg forward and just sat there, breathing heavily, his head bowed.

Silence stretched as she took a seat across from him. She had a bitter taste in her mouth; she was causing him pain, but knew no other way of doing this. She was like a blade, cutting him in every possible way.

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me see,” she said. “I’ll fail you, and you’ll fail the world.” She swallowed hard. “And to hell with the world. I don’t want to lose you, dammit. Let me in.”

Finn wiped his face on his forearm and snorted, though his eyes were a little too bright. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll try.” 

***

Ella dreamed of a frozen plain, stretching up to steep forested hills. Snowflakes swirled and pelted her with the wind, stinging her brow and cheeks. She couldn’t feel her lips. She stumbled in the thick snow, her feet heavy like stones.

A purpose. She was there for a reason. What was it?

A figure stumbled ahead, shoulders set against the wind and snow, long, pale hair whipping back, flashing with light.

Finn.

She forced her frozen limbs to move faster, to catch up with him, but in vain. His feet didn’t seem to sink in the snow, and his strides ate the distance.

Damn.

“Finn!” Her cry was swallowed in the gale, so she tried again, filling her lungs first. “Finn, stop.”

He did. He staggered a few steps and halted, then turned, his face curiously blank, his eyes dark. He lifted his hand, and he held one of those long silver tubes. 

It looked an awful lot like a machine gun, and he was pointing it at her.

“No, Finn, don’t!”

Her cry woke her up, thank god, and she found herself sitting up in the bed, gasping for air.

Why would Finn...? Would Finn shoot her? Had he even recognized her?

Goddammit!

Just a dream, Ella.

Fuck it, no.
A memory and she’d intruded. Only he’d always recognized her in his memories, integrated her.

Not this time.

She had to talk to Finn. Only he wasn’t in bed, yet again, and her clock read four in the morning. Ungodly hours.

Had the Veil torn? Was he okay?

Grabbing her old cardigan, struggling to get her heart to calm, she padded out into the corridor and peered into the living room.

Finn knelt in the center of the room, his back to her. He sat slightly hunched over, a hand clutching his shoulder. And holy shit, a Gate was open right in front of him — a sheet of beaten silver, liquid metal rippling in the air like a screen, like a mirror.

In it was a woman, not the same Ella had seen in the Gates opening before — still something in her lean face was similar.

The woman was dressed in a light blue uniform that covered her body like second skin. She held a glowing scepter in one hand and her long hair reflected the blue of her gown. She was speaking, that sussurating language that sounded like the voice of the sea.

“Isthelfinn.” She lifted her scepter and her eyes flashed.

Finn bent over, a retching sound leaving his throat.

Shit.
Ella threw the door wide open, sending it banging against the wall, and rushed inside. The Gate was flickering and the woman inside looked annoyed, her mouth pinched and her brows drawing together.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Ella snapped, “but may I borrow Finn for a second?”

The Gate fizzled as Ella crouched down. She wrapped her arm around Finn, felt him sway where he knelt. Blood dripped from his nose. Asking if he was okay seemed ridiculous. His face was ashen. His skin was ice cold.

“Can you get up?” She wasn’t sure she could haul him to his feet if he didn’t cooperate and he didn’t seem to hear her.

He reached up to wipe at the blood trickling down his chin and she caught his hand. He blinked. 

“Finn, who was that woman?”
Ella asked.

“Adramar,” Finn whispered.

The elven queen.
Was that her real face? Broader than his mother’s, flatter, the cheekbones more prominent, the eyes hard and cold. “What did she tell you this time?”

“She promised...” Finn swallowed. “If I go back...”

Ella’s heart sank. “She’s playing with you, Finn, don’t you see? I thought you said you don’t trust her.”

“I don’t. Always lying, always commanding...” Finn’s voice cracked and he hissed. What the hell had she told him?

“Commanding what?”

“Can’t. Remember.” Wheezing. “She said...”

“What did she say?”

His breathing came in gasps, as if he couldn’t get enough air. It scared her.

Holy fucking hell.
“It’s okay. Take deep breaths now.” She shook him. “Breathe, Finn. Come on.” 

He clutched at her arm, so hard she thought he’d break her bones. “She said,” Finn bit out, “that my mother’s still alive.”

THE END of EPISODE 2 (SEASON II OF BOREAL AND JOHN GREY)

The Warp

Episode 3

Long is one night,

Long are two nights,

How can I hold out three?

The sun grows dark,

The earth sinks into the sea,

The bright stars

From heaven vanish;

Fire rages,

Heat blazes,

A weapon gleams.

The sun doesn’t know

Where I am headed;

The moon doesn’t know

Where I have been;

I don’t know

What is real

Or where the nightmare begins.

Chapter One

Pause

“I like your new look,” Mike said, munching on a cookie. He leaned back in the armchair in Ella and Finn’s apartment and sighed in pleasure. “The tousled, just-got-out-of bed look. That’s fashion for you.”

Finn glanced up from his mug of coffee and gave a slow blink. His hair brushed his cheeks like spun silver. “Fashion?” he muttered.

“The look’s all the rage now.” Mike waved his cookie in the air, raining crumbs all over the cushions. “I’d trim the ends a little, though, otherwise it’s more like a “just-hacked-my-hair-off-with-a-machete” kinda look. Less popular, that one.”

Ella took a sip of her strong, sweet tea and hid a snort behind her kitty mug, because that, of course, was more or less what Finn had done. An act of frustration she could understand.

He’d been very quiet since the opening of the Gate and the elven queen’s words. Was his mother alive as the queen had claimed? Had the glass coffin and the funeral she’d seen in Finn’s memories been a lie?

Too convenient.
The damn queen was lying to win Finn over, to blackmail him and get him to do whatever it was she wanted, which was a no-brainer: return to her and obey her, opening Gates to conquer new worlds.

A strand of silvery hair fell in Finn’s eyes and he tucked it behind a pointed ear, distracting her. The look suited him. Made him look more boyish; heart-stopping cute.

As if he needed more charm. She could hardly concentrate on anything when he was around anyway.

“Now all you need is an earring,” Mike was saying. “It’ll give the cut more class. Hey, don’t look at me like that. Something small, a silver stud. Or black; ebony, perhaps.”

Finn didn’t react except to lean over, reaching for the sugar.

Right, because he had only added three cubes to his coffee already. Then again, coffee and sugar seemed all that kept Finn awake these days.

Not that Mike looked okay. In spite of his chipper mood, his eyes had dark crescents underneath and his cheeks looked hollow.

“Lots of noise from the Veil?” she asked.

“Oh you know how it is.” Mike waved a hand. “Noise comes and goes.” He had a strained look around his mouth, though, and Ella guessed he didn’t want to talk more about it in case Dave was listening in.

She made a mental note to talk to him later about it, without Finn around. “Maybe you need a vacation. Take Scott and go out of town for a while.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Mike brushed crumbs off his sweater, brow crinkling. “Hey, we never got together for Thanksgiving, with this and that. It’s been a while since we had dinner together. How about it?”

This and that. Dragons, fire demons, goblins... Heaps of fun.

Finn stirred the sugar in his coffee, his lips pursed.

“Are you sure, Mike?” Ella rubbed her forehead. It was the last thing on her mind, quite frankly, but it seemed important to Mike. This was the second time he’d asked. “I thought with the screeching from the Veil and the headaches you’d rather have a quiet evening.”

“Nah, I’m good.” Mike tapped a finger against his lips. “How about having the dinner here? I’ll help you prepare everything, of course. I’ll even make my patented meatloaf.”

Finn glanced up, the mug halfway to his lips. His head tipped to the side slightly, in his favorite listening pose.

Ella hesitated. Mike seemed willing, but Finn wasn’t so well. Apart from the shock he’d had when the dragon had been shot, he had to deal with the nightmares, headaches of his own, and his aching leg. They’d just come back from an appointment at the physiotherapist’s and had passed by the pharmacy to buy more painkillers.

Did he seem better? Had he slept longer last night? What else could she do?

“Ella.” Mike wiggled his fingers. “Dinner? Yes?”

“Sorry. I’m not sure...”

“What’s meatloaf?” Finn asked, the first words he’d spoken all day.

“A dish with meat and egg, baked in the oven.” Mike winked. “Obscenely good.”

A flicker of interest went through Finn’s gaze.

Food, my man.
One of her elf’s obsessions, although it made sense it’d be so important to someone who’d spent his life unsure of finding his next meal.  

“Want to help me prepare it?” Mike grinned at Finn. “I have a secret recipe passed down to me from my grandma.”

When Finn nodded with a faint smile, it was all Ella could do not to throw her arms around Mike and hug the living daylights out of him. All this, just to get Finn interested, cheer him up.

“You know, Mike,” she said, her voice embarrassingly thick, “you’re the best brother ever.”

“Like you have another,” Mike scoffed, but he flushed and ducked his head and snorted, obviously pleased. “Who else would put up with you?”

“Word,” Ella muttered.

“Well, Finn does,” Mike went on, relentless. “You know you’re in for a prize of patience, don’t you, Finn?”

Finn lifted his head, his fine hair falling in his face, and gazed right at her, his smile lingering.

She was so lucky. Must have done something good in a previous life. And hey, who said you couldn’t choose your own family?

***

Ella stood at the kitchen counter, a milk carton in one hand, a pot in the other, when vertigo hit her and images flashed before her eyes: icicles hanging from branches, blood on the snow, the glint of metal in weak sunlight. A familiar tower loomed close by, a standing rock carved in the shape of a person, a rigid figure, hands held by its sides, its face framed by a sort of helmet. Ella could make out a door set in the side of the stone tower, made of shiny metal, symbols flashing on its mirror-like surface.

Snowflakes swirled, dancing on the air, falling faster and faster. A storm. The glint of metal came again and she made out a slim figure trudging through the snow, grey mantle flapping. The gun she’d seen in previous memories flashed in his hand — a long, shiny tube.

“Finn!” She shaded her eyes against the onslaught of stinging snow. “Stop!”

She wasn’t sure why she demanded it, but he halted and turned, his face hard. He lifted the gun and lights flashed on the barrel.

He was going to kill her. She heard the hum of the gun’s battery, saw Finn’s finger lift to press the discharge, and her throat had closed up, cutting off her cry.

But nothing happened. Or rather, no shot rang, and she blinked against the white, watching in confusion as Finn took a stumbling step backward, the blood draining from his face. The gun fell from his hand and thudded in the snow.

Ella frowned and turned to see.

A gasp escaped her. Bodies. Rows of them, stacked side by side. Slashed throats, chests torn open.

Bile rose in her throat.

“No,” Finn cried, the sound carrying over the storm. “No!”

Then the picture twisted, folding in on itself, and the pain hit, claws of fire digging into her back. The same cave, the stone table, Finn hanging over it, spread-eagled, his blood dripping.

“It’s your duty,” someone said, “to obey the divine laws, to taste the divine frenzy.”

Finn jerked in his bonds and the images faded to dark.

Ella blinked, the afterimages still dancing in her vision —
stone walls, a reflection of fire...

Her knees bent and she grabbed the kitchen counter for support, the breath wheezing from her lungs.

Shit.
She stumbled into the living-room. “Finn!” 

He groaned and curled tighter on the sofa, gripping his head. Silver flames trailed from his hands.

“Hey, wake up.” She sat on the sofa and drew him into her arms. He stiffened, then relaxed in degrees, going limp against her. She held him close. “You awake?”

He nodded, his heartbeat hammering against her.

“Just a dream,” she whispered, knowing full well it was a memory. “You’re okay now. You’ll be okay.”

***

“We need to talk,” Dave said over the phone two days later. He sounded distracted.

“Finn’s at the physiotherapist’s.” She’d left him with Darla to go grab some groceries down the street. “But you can tell me.”

“No, I need to talk to Finn, too,” Dave said. “It’s about the dragon.”

She froze in the act of giving her card to the cashier. “Has she been sighted?”

“No. But we need to find her before anyone else does.”

She swallowed and gave her card to the cashier who'd begun tapping her fingers on the till. “Do you think whoever shot her was trying to get at Finn? I thought the shooter was a random observer.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Dave said and this once she had to agree with him. “Bring him over when he’s done.” A pause. “I didn’t know he went to physiotherapy.”

The cashier was giving her strange looks. “What?” Was there anything unusual about the conversation? Ella glared at the cashier, grabbed her card and her bags and juggled the phone until she wedged it under her cheek. “Yes, Dave, his leg’s giving him trouble. An old fracture.”

“Ah, that scar on his leg? Looked like a bad one.”

“Yeah, it is. This weather makes it worse.”

Another pause. Ella frowned as she crossed the street and walked alongside storefronts until she found the entrance to the physiotherapy center. She entered the dark lobby and pressed the button for the elevator. “What is it, Dave?”

“Nothing. Just get him and come over, will you? It’s time for a long talk.”

Ella sighed as she rode up to the physiotherapy center, images from Finn's nightmare flashing through her mind. Dreams within dreams.

Divine frenzy
, she thought. Maybe it was catching. 

She walked into the physiotherapy center to find Finn standing, listening to Darla who was showing him an x-ray of his leg. Ella approached, nodding at them, and took a look.

“Bone broke in several places,” Darla was saying, “and knitted badly in at least two points.” She tapped on the knots visible on the plastic sheet. “Maybe a third.” Another bump loomed near a joint that had to be the knee. “It’s a miracle you can walk. Then again, I’ve seen people do lots of amazing things.”

You have no idea
, Ella thought, leaning closer, studying the grey knobs on the white image of the bone.

“It’s possible that certain nerves were affected by the injury and the subsequent malunion. Muscles as well,” Darla went on. “Since it healed badly, it may be that the bone is slightly shorter than the other one, which puts pressure on your hips to compensate.” She shook her head. “That was a bad fracture. How did that happen? Did you get surgery?”

Finn said nothing, his face blank. The images, the sensations of his fall off the cliff, the crash, the pain, the sorrow, were branded in Ella’s memory as if she’d experienced them herself.

“Hey, Dave wants us to head over.” Ella hoped Darla didn’t find the evasion of her question too obvious.

Finn went out to the lobby to put on his boots and jacket, while Ella lingered in the office.

“Has he improved?” Darla asked, glancing from the x-rays to her. “Less pain?”

“I think so. He can walk again. That’s already something.”

“I can’t fix this.” Darla gestured at the x-rays. “A surgery might, but it also might not. His best bet is to exercise, keep the muscles in his back and leg in good shape.”

“He does,” Ella said.

“He’s quite strong,” Darla conceded.

And she hadn’t even seen him shirtless. “Is that level of pain normal? He could barely put weight on his leg.”