Boreal and John Grey Season 2 (34 page)

“I’m fine,” Finn ground out but ducked his head and made no move to push the other elf off. He kept glancing in the direction of the fading screeches.

“He’s fine, did you hear that?” The elf draped over Finn shook with silent laughter. “Is that a high-brow Boreal way of saying you’re pissing your pants?”

“He’s too scrawny to be a Boreal anyway,” the other elf said. “Can’t believe it for a second.”

“Fuck you both,” Finn muttered and this time he did pull away. “I woke you up so you wouldn’t get eaten in your sleep, and this is my thanks.”

“I’ve got thick skin. Wolf’ll spit me out before he swallows,” the friendly elf — Elsen — said, still chuckling. “Come to think of it, the smell of piss on you will probably put the beast off as well.”

Finn grunted and rubbed the tips of his ears.

“Hey, what have you got there?” The elf with the topknot strode over to Finn and caught his wrist. “What are these strange patterns on his tips?”

“He’s maturing, Deln. Unlike you.” Elsen wagged his pale brows.

Ella decided she liked Elsen. She couldn’t help grinning.

Deln made a face and stepped away. Finn reached up to touch his ears, his face paling.

“Time to find you a girl,” Elsen called out as Finn turned around and started trudging toward the hills.

“I don’t need a girl.”

“But soon you will, trust me,” Elsen’s laughing voice followed him. “That’s what maturation is all about, the only thing really when you don’t have any magic to worry about: find a pretty girl and—”

“Shut up.” Finn didn’t look back and Ella rushed after him.

Into another memory.

Had to be. The snow had melted and it was night time, a strange luminance filling the moonless sky. A gorge opened below her, ice shining in its center, reflecting the radiance. The sides of the gorge were vertical — the rock dark red, like blood. Icicles hung from every protruding piece of rock, gleaming like diamonds. And behind, a deep blue wall rose, glistening.

A glacier.

The screech of a wolf pierced the cold air.

Where was Finn?

A slight shift of shadows, a tiny movement caught her eye and she crouched down.

Finn was huddled behind a rock. His eyes glimmered, and bright lines flashed on his face and throat.

Why was he hiding?

Turning around she saw why.

A beaked wolf stood there. Damn beast was as tall as she was, the white scales on its breast and sides gleaming like mother-of-pearl. Its beak was yellow and dirty, as if stained with blood.

She stared, her breath frozen in her lungs, as the animal stepped closer, looming tall, and opened its beak, showing rows of razor-sharp teeth. Terror nailed her to the spot and pressure grew on her chest.

A sound came from behind her, a shuffle in the snow, and she turned to see Finn back away, toward the glacier, his gun held in a white-knuckled grip.

A screech rode on the wind, followed by another, and in the darkness Ella caught flashes of rippling white hides and red eyes.

More wolves. A pack. They arched their backs, their scales and beaks rattling faintly in the unnatural quiet.

Then the pack attacked.

Finn staggered backward, his eyes wide, then spun around and started to run. The animals leaped after him, breathing down his neck as he raced toward the glacier.

Ella opened her mouth to call his name, tell him this was a dream, a memory — but he was already racing full out, the wolves snapping at his heels. She couldn’t leave him alone, didn’t know what came after — and she had to know, had to be there for him.

That was all she knew for sure.

The glacier wall towered over her as she ran on the faint path winding between rocky outcrops, the air so cold it seared her lungs. She saw Finn stumble and fall, then get up again, the wolves closing in — goddammit, how had he survived this?

Her boots hit the stony path hard, sending jolts up her spine, as the wolves screeched and jumped, Finn a pale flash against the blue glacier, his hair burning silver—

And went through the ice. There was a sensation of falling, tumbling in the void, plunging into a dark pit.

Then he dropped to a crouch on hard ground, his boots thudding down. He looked up.

A wide street with buildings lining either side, the sun shining overhead, a blue sky with fleeting white clouds. A woman hurrying down the sidewalk stopped dead in her tracks, staring at him with wide eyes. A kid was tugging on his mother’s arm, pointing at Finn.

Ella stepped to his side and somehow knew what she’d just witnessed:

It was the moment Finn had crossed over to her world.

Chapter Two

Changes

Ella stopped at the kitchen door and looked inside.

Finn stood with his bare back to her, stirring his black coffee. The dark lines radiating from the scars on his lower back, along his spine, had tangled together. The climbed up one side of his back to meet the mark on his shoulder like an elaborate black tattoo; not Celtic or anything she could put a name to.
‘Briar’
was the word that came again to mind; a bramble twisting from his tailbone up to his shoulder where it merged with the mark.

He turned, lifting a brow at her, and she swallowed a gasp, because the changes didn’t stop at his back.

His eyes. With the first change in his mark, they’d turned from blue to grey, and now they were even paler, like an arctic wolf’s. Muted silver.

He shook his head and turned away again, bracing his hands on the edge of the counter.

Damn, she’d been staring, probably open-mouthed, too. She scrambled for words. “Hey... I like your new look.”

Finn’s back stiffened more.

Real smooth, Ella, way to go.
“I gather you, um... saw your back?”

“Yeah. And the eyes. And the mark.”

Crap.
He sounded pissed. “What’s the big deal? They changed again. Because now you remember. So that’s good, right?”

He hung his head and sighed. “Yeah,” he said again and she realized he didn’t sound pissed; he sounded shaken.

She stepped inside and approached him with a hand held up, like she’d done with Missy when she’d first rescued the kitten. She felt as if he was about to run away.

When she wrapped her arms around him, she felt his muscles quiver, bunched up and coiled like steel. “For what it’s worth, I think your new mark looks awesome.”

A shiver went through him. “What?”

Alarmed, she held on as his shoulders shook. “Finn?”

He turned around, Ella saw he was chuckling darkly to himself. “Awesome,” he repeated.

She winced and stepped back. “It’s the truth.” He did look amazing, as if the exhaustion that had weighed on him for so long had fallen away like dead skin. He stood tall and powerful, his face glowing, his gaze sharp on her. Sparks crackled at his fingertips and his hair lifted with electricity. “You look like...”

“Like what?”

She bit her lip. He looked like John Grey, she supposed — a magical being, all harsh shadows and light, made of gems and steel. “Like you could use a cup of coffee,” she managed and he sagged back against the counter, relief written all over his face. Made her wonder what he’d expected to hear.

Silence settled over them.

“I didn’t kill them,” Finn muttered after a moment.

His friends.

“Of course you didn’t.” She smiled, her heart light. “You had no reason to do such a thing.”

He shrugged. “For a while I thought... I thought I’d gone insane; that I’d done it.”

She didn’t know what to say. She’d thought the same, thought all sorts of crazy scenarios. “But you didn’t.”

He said nothing, his mouth tightening. He folded his arms across his chest.

“How are you feeling?” He seemed distant. Preoccupied. “Does the mark hurt?”

“I’m okay.”

But something was definitely not okay. “Talk to me, Finn. Don’t shut me out. We’ve come so far. You should have your magic by now, be able to do crazy stuff. Open Gates and god knows what else. I need to know what’s going on. And I need to know you’re really okay.”

He let his hands drop to his sides and drew a sharp breath. He reached for her and she took his hand, studied his scarred knuckles.

And waited, swallowing questions.

The fridge hummed behind them. Rain pattered on the closed kitchen window. Finn pulled their entangled hands to his chest, pressed them against his heart.

“I want to see Norma,” he said.

Ella blinked. She was getting quite used to Finn’s sudden changes in conversational direction, but this time she couldn’t follow. “Okay, sure. Should we go visit her at her house?”

“Mike said she’s in town for a check-up.

“Oh. Is she okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just...” Finn squeezed her hand, and his heart thumped faster. “I need to talk to her.”

“Why?”

He shook his head, ash-blond hair falling in his silver eyes. “Everything’s about to change.”

Somehow this didn’t sound so good. “Everything’s going to be fine. You’re stronger now.”

“If Dave finds out,” Finn said, his voice harsh and low, “then it’s over. And if we don’t tell him, it will be over for different reasons. One way or another, things will spin out of control.”

Dammit
, that sounded depressing.

“Stop overthinking this.” Ella slipped an arm around him. “We won’t tell Dave. And we won’t let him use or harm you. We’ve battled so much. We can do this. Now you’ll be able to control the Veil and the Gates. Everyone will be safe and well.”

Finn closed his eyes and let her draw him closer, let her talk and talk, tell him how everything would be perfect.

Ella hoped she sounded more convincing to him than she did to herself.

***

Despite the ominous words and Finn’s dark mood, the rest of the morning was spent in quiet.

Ella left Finn reading about Nordic myths and dozing on his favorite spot on the sofa, and slipped into the kitchen to call Dave. She told him know they wouldn’t be going in that day and lied that Finn hadn’t dreamed about the cave and the plain that night.

She was glad Dave couldn’t see her as she sucked at lying. Her face was an open book.

“Well, you can’t force these things, I suppose,” Dave grumbled into the phone. “Maybe tonight you’ll have better luck.”

Ella bit her lip.

“I want Finn to come in this evening,” Dave said.

She blinked. “Come in where?”

“The Council wants to meet him.”

“What for?” She opened the fridge, closed it again. Unease stirred in her chest.

“Since Finn still can’t use his powers, it’s highly probable the seal of Vanaheim will soon be broken. We want to discuss what will happen then.”

Ella shivered. What they needed right now was time — to rest, to figure everything out, to see if Finn could indeed open Gates and control the Veil. She was also curious about her own abilities and what she could do with them. “Do we have a choice?”

“Not really. I’ll send a car to pick you up. Dress smartly. Oh and bring that transmitter you insist I inserted into Finn’s shoulder. I want to have a look at it.”

And he disconnected.

Damn.

Dress smart
. Where were they going to get smart clothes? Ella sighed as she made tea and coffee and poured it in their chipped mugs. It was easier to worry about the clothes than the threat of another seal breaking.

Lost in thought, she returned to the living room and offered Finn his mug of coffee. She looked up when he didn’t immediately take it.

And found his silver eyes on her, his face unreadable. He sat up and her gaze slid over his muscled chest only to be caught by the dark starburst on his shoulder.

He took the mug and frowned, following her stare. His mouth flattened. A shudder went through him.

Yeah, it was frigging cold inside the room. Ella opened her mouth to ask if the heater wasn’t working, when she saw snow.

Actual
snow
, inside their apartment — a small pile of it behind the sofa and flakes still dancing on the air.

“You opened a Gate.” She tried to keep her voice from rising, but she was torn between excitement and horror. “When did that happen?”

He put his mug down on the table. “It worked,” he whispered.

“What did you do?”

He shrugged. “Moved the threads.”

Jesus
. He could open Gates on a whim now. “Can you do it again? Can you open a big one?”

He glanced at the apartment door and she snapped her mouth shut. Damn, the bodyguards. They stood right outside.

He pushed to his feet and she stepped close, slid her arms around his slim hips. “Show me?” She was acting like a child and she knew it but couldn’t help herself. She wanted to see with her own eyes his magic. His strange power always left her breathless.

He was still frowning.

“Are you afraid you’ll tear the apartment down? Or...” A new thought struck her. “Does the process hurt?”

He shook his head as light sprang from his skin, and she didn’t know which question he was answering. Yet sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his temples. His pulse jumped, beating fast in a vein along his jaw.

The golden threads flashed into existence. She drew a sharp breath as they spiraled around them in a tight weave, unlike anything she’d seen before. She pressed into Finn’s side as the threads pulsed and whined. He lifted his hands, white flames winding around his fingers, and the weave changed, the threads parting slowly, painstakingly — bending out of shape, bowing out.

Finn’s head bent, his breathing coming fast and shallow, as the Gate opened. A tiny ripple in the air at first, then a flurry of snow blew on her face, making her gasp.

An oval window no bigger than her head, opening into a white world. She could see tall shapes that might be trees, and smelled the scent of fresh snow. The angle changed and she saw mountains and great airships flying over them.

Then an acrid stench hit her nose and she heard a whirring noise as blackness filled the window.

“
Faen
.” Finn clenched his hands and the threads screeched. Ella felt the thickening in the air, the pressure inside her skull as the Gate flickered, then vanished.

Finn stepped back and sank on the sofa, his face twisting in a grimace.

Ella sat down next to him, staring at the last of the snowflakes swirling down. “What happened? What was that?”

“
Hestr
.”

A rogue machine.
“Would it have noticed the Gate?”

Finn didn’t seem to hear. He slumped there, his eyes wide. “Aelfheim,” he whispered.

She couldn’t read his face. There was shock, for sure, and longing, but also something else, something dark that looked a lot like fear.
Why?

“You don’t have to go back,” she said, hoping she was guessing right. He’d never expressed any desire to do so, quite the contrary, and after glimpsing his life through his memories, she could understand his reasons.
Still...
“Nobody can force you.”

His chin dipped, his breath rushing out in a white cloud in the now frigid air of the room. “I hope you’re right.”

***

Of course she was right. Ella stared at the dress she’d dug out from the depths of her closet and told herself not to chew on her lip anymore or she’d arrive at the Council meeting with blood dripping down her chin.

How could anyone force John Grey do anything? He was a powerful magical being. Everything would be fine.

Everything will be fine.
It was turning into a sort of mantra, and she wondered if that was a bad sign.

Getting to the bottom of Finn’s memories, strengthening him, making his mark bloom — that had been necessary. She wasn't about to watch Finn carted off by the Shades and delivered with a pretty bow to the elven queen or god knew who else. Nor would she watch as the world was invaded and destroyed.

It would be fine.

Yeah, back to the mantra.

The dress was wrinkled. She couldn’t even remember when and why she’d bought it, and she had no shoes to go with it. She only owned boots — hiking boots, army boots, worn and holed boots.

A white, long-sleeved blouse caught her eye, hanging at the back, and she pulled it out. That might work. With black pants and her newest black boots. It’d have to do.

Fuck Dave and his requests anyway.

The doorbell rang and by the time she’d hurried to the living room, Finn was unlocking the door, a gun in one hand.

Uh-oh.

Still, he held the gun pointed to the floor, which meant he knew the visitors and wasn’t planning their immediate demise.

“Hey, my man.” Mike strolled inside, his dark hair in spikes, a plastic bag in one hand. He clapped Finn on the back, then froze, taking in the gun. “Um. We good?”

Finn’s broad back tensed, muscles rippling, the black swirls running from his lower back to his shoulder contracting and expanding. He shoved a hand through his chin-length hair, pushing it back, and nodded.