Boreal and John Grey Season 2 (40 page)

Had Sarah been right? Were Dave and the other Guardians working for their own account? Or was she lying her ass off and the Guardians still did the bidding of the Dark Elves?

Did it matter in the end?

Her cell phone rang and she dug it out of her pocket with trembling hands. Fuck, it was cold. “Yeah?”

“We’re seeing something not far from you,” Dave’s voice crackled with the wind. “We’re heading your way. Are you in the street?”

“Yes.” She glanced around. “What are you seeing?”

“Looks like a storm front.” A pause. “It’s huge. It can’t be...”

A Gate.

Ella took a step back, a moan dying in her throat. Had to be a Gate. The rising mirror of rippling light couldn’t be anything else, but hell, she’d never seen one so huge. It was taller than the buildings lining the street, its top lost in the low-hanging clouds.

Her chest was so tight she couldn’t breathe. She was having a goddamn panic attack.

Too late. She was too late — again.

Slowly she became aware of a voice shouting in her ear.

Dave.

“Ella! Can you hear me?”

“I’m here.” Her mouth was dry as a desert. “Where are you?”

“On our way to you.”

She disconnected and licked her lips; tried to decide what to do next. The damn Gate kept distracting her, its surface swirling like oil on water.

Shit.

She stood in the heart of the snowstorm. The Gate was right in front of her. She had to be close to Finn’s location. 

She looked up at the building she’d been about to enter. Come on, focus. She had powers, too. If only she knew how to use them when she needed them.

Anger. It always grounded her, pushed away the fear and helplessness. Whoever had gotten Finn would pay. Ella would make them eat dirt. She’d make them beg for mercy.

Warmth climbed up her throat and she blinked as rage tinted everything red.

Then she blinked again and realized the red was her threads, pulsing around her in time to her racing heartbeat. Crimson filaments spanning space from the earth to the sky, twisting and coiling around her like snakes — and among them Finn’s golden threads, running horizontally, barely moving. Pale and dim as if sleeping.

Yet a glow caught her eye and she turned. A single golden thread burned incandescent, pulsing, a faint hum reaching her ears.

Leading her to the building next door.

***

An old, broken pharmacy sign hung next to the building entrance. Her phone buzzed as she snuck into a dark lobby with a stench of piss and trash. She pulled it out just long enough to turn the damn thing off. Nothing like a phone ringing to kill the element of surprise. 

She’d probably need the back-up, but time was a luxury she didn’t have.

Drawing her gun, she climbed the narrow stairs. The building appeared to be abandoned. Garbage littered the steps, open cans and boxes spilling liquid she really didn’t want to take a good look at.

The first landing revealed open doors. Movement caught her eye in the dimness beyond and she stepped inside, her gun ready.

A spindly man with a long beard and dressed in a shabby long coat looked up, his eyes shining. He held a syringe in one hand.

Ella glanced around, looking into the other rooms. Nothing moved. “Have you seen anyone else around?”

The man jerked as if he hadn’t been sure she was really there. “Up,” he said, his voice scratchy. “Up.”

“Upstairs?”

He nodded vigorously.

“Who’s up there?”

“Demons,” he hissed and flapped his hands like wings.

Ella sighed. She wondered what he was high on. “Demons.”

“Screaming,” the man muttered, hunching in on himself. “He was screaming.”

Ella’s blood froze. Without another word, she turned on her heel and rushed up the stairs.

It was quiet. Had the man hallucinated the screaming? Had she imagined the bright thread leading her here?

Her threads bent around her, soaring up into the ceiling. The song was high-pitched and discordant, making the spot between her shoulder blades itch and her teeth ache.

Danger
, said the threads.

Good.
It meant she was on the right path.

She stopped short of the next landing, glad the steps were concrete and didn’t creak. She peered up, over the rail.

Guards, check. Rifles, check. Shouts and loud voices coming from behind the closed door, check.

Definitely on the right fucking path.

Baring her teeth, she holstered her gun and drew her knives. The threads around her whispered words she couldn’t understand. She imagined the guards falling.

The threads snapped and shook violently, and the guards cried out, tripping and falling. Their rifles clattered to the floor.

Holy Jesus and Mary.

Clamping down on her shock, Ella ran up the last steps and rounded the landing, blades in her hands.

Someone was unlocking the door. She ducked to the side as it swung open with a creak and a man poked his closely shorn head out.

Without a second thought, she hit him on the head with the grip of her knife. He crumbled quietly and she stepped over his body to enter the apartment.

Her blades went flying before she could make out the scene clearly: two men dropped with barely a sound as she strode into the high-ceilinged hall.

Where Finn hung spread-eagled, blood dripping down his sides and from the ends of his hair. He was bare-chested, but still wearing his black pants and boots. The cloth had been cut below knee and his leg was wrapped in a thick bandage, stained crimson.

He glowed, his entire body glimmering as if made of crystal and fire.

Jesus.
It was like the memory, like a flashback — all mixed up, the cave, Loki’s web, the fear and panic and pain. They’d known. Dave had reported the details to Sarah, and she’d passed the information on — to help create this nightmare.

A movement to her left and she drew her gun and sighted — automatic movements. She shot the woman and turned her gun on another figure approaching from her right.

Shot after shot, her only goal to reach Finn.

Someone cried out behind her and she spun to see a slender woman with a pistol in her hands trapped in the red threads, a man sprawled on the floor, his whole body jerking. She turned back toward Finn, the threads pushing anyone approaching her, lashing like whip tails. She was the energy core, the center of the fury burning around her.

Maybe she didn’t need back-up after all.

A tall woman came to stand next to Finn’s hanging form. She wore a dark suit and boots, and her blond hair was cut short. Something glittered down her side — a seam of light.

“Guardian,” Ella hissed.

“Stabilizer.” The woman’s eyes flashed, pale and deadly. Ella knew her face. She’d seen her in the meeting of the Council. Here was the mole they’d been looking for.

Too late, too late
, the treacherous little voice whispered in her mind.

“You’re the one who put the transmitter in Finn’s shoulder.”

The woman inclined her head as if accepting a compliment.

Finn had managed to lift his head. He stared at Ella, his eyes dazed. She wondered if he even knew she was there.

 “Have you looked outside? See that Gate stretching from the earth to the sky? Know what it means?”

The woman frowned. Could it be she really didn’t know what she’d unleashed?

“You shouldn’t have hurt him,” Ella said. “Now I’ll cut you open and we’ll see what your machinery looks like in broad daylight.”

“I’ve done my job.”

Ella could hardly take her eyes off Finn’s form. Was he even conscious? “Let him down then. What have you injected him with?”

Shrugging, the woman walked to the back of the room. “A mild sedative.” She jabbed at a button.

Ella barely had the time to step forward and grab Finn before he face-planted into the floor. She had to do some creative maneuvering to keep his head from thumping on the wooden planks. He was damn heavy.

He crashed on top of her with a groan.
Hell.
If her ribs and hipbones survived, they’d be black and blue come tomorrow. She laid him down and rolled him on his side.

Then she saw his back.
Oh fuck.

Ella bent over him, feeling sick. Couldn’t even think about removing the blades stuck along his spine, not yet.

By the time she glanced up, the woman was gone.

Chapter Eight

Song

Shaking Finn was probably not a good idea, but Ella needed him awake to close the huge Gate looming outside the window.

She wondered how long those blades were, buried in his back, if they’d damaged any vital organs.

It couldn’t be, right? These people hadn’t wanted him dead, she kept reminding herself — then again, they weren’t careful with him, either. They wanted a functional tool, even if they didn’t much care whether he fared well.

“Finn, come on!” She patted his cheek. “Can you hear me? There’s an open Gate, you’ve got to close it right now.”

He blinked, his eyes unfocused.

Yeah, mild sedative, right. They’d probably injected him with enough sedative to bring down a herd of rabid elephants.

Focus, Ella.

She pulled out her cell phone, turned it on and called Dave.

“Where the hell are you?” he yelled into the phone, making her wince.

“Dilapidated building with a pharmacy sign. You can’t miss it. Right next to the Gate. Second floor.”

Dave cursed. “Sending two men to get you.”

“We need a doctor or a paramedic.”

“I’ll find you one. Wait there.”

She shoved the cell back into her pocket.

Moments trickled by.

“Ella,” Finn mumbled, trying to sit up — but his eyes were glassy and he wasn’t looking at her. Ella wondered what it was he was seeing.

“I’m right here.” She pulled his arm over her shoulders to steady him and he hissed. Blood trickled down his back. “You’ll be okay.”

He had to be numb from the sedative and from hanging like that for so long. Plus his leg was fucked up. Who knew how they’d destroyed or removed the tracker.

“The queen,” he breathed, his face grey with pain. “The web.”

“You’re not there anymore,” Ella said firmly. “Finn, you have to close the damn Gate.”

He leaned against her, his breathing shallow, and said nothing.

Steps sounded outside, and then two agents ran inside. They stopped short at the sight — whether it was the elaborate setting with levers and ropes hanging from the ceiling the knives sticking out of Finn’s back or his black-tipped ears, she couldn’t tell.

“Holy crap,” one of them said. “I thought I’d seen it all.”

“Are you a paramedic?” Ella asked, her voice suddenly wobbly.

“Yeah. Never seen anything like this, though. Need to take him to a clinic, I can’t do this here.”

“You have to. We don’t have time. There’s an open Gate out there.” Not that anyone could miss it.

“Don’t worry, agent,” said the other man, peering at Finn’s back. “The army’s on their way. They’ll be here soon.”

Ella shook her head. “I don’t know if it’ll be soon enough.”

A tremor went through the building and she was pretty sure she wasn’t the one causing it.

The paramedic crouched down behind Finn, and Ella cupped Finn’s face and turned it toward her; getting him to focus on her. “Don’t move, okay? Your back’s hurt. They’re going to fix it.”

“Ready?” the man asked, his voice a little shaky.

She pulled Finn flush against her until his chin rested on her shoulder. “Make it quick.”

The agent’s face was tense as he worked, brow creased in concentration. The other man had crouched beside him, holding an open medic kit.

She felt rather than saw the removal of the knives in every jolt of Finn’s body. The scarred energy points were so sensitive she couldn’t imagine how much it hurt to have blades stuck in them.

She didn’t know how to hold him without touching his back, so she settled her hands on the back of his neck, keeping him in place. The metallic scent of blood filled the air.

The building shook again. Finn muffled a groan against her shoulder and she petted the fine hair on his nape.

The agent drew yet another blade out of Finn’s back, his face slightly green. Now Ella could see the knife, it wasn’t long — rather short and squat, like a shaving blade.

“How many are left?” she whispered, rubbing circles between Finn’s shoulder blades.

“Three. Almost done.” The man wiped his sleeve over his forehead. “This is sick.”

And you don’t know half of it.
“Hurry up.”

“What about his leg?”

She swallowed down bile. “Later.”

Finn twitched in her arms as another blade was removed and a butterfly bandage applied. At least the cuts weren’t bleeding much.

Her phone rang and buzzed in her pocket. She couldn’t look at it right now, but she knew it wouldn’t be good news.

The window panes rattled and the ropes hanging from the ceiling swayed. A blast outside sent another tremor through the floor and walls. 

The last blade was barely out, the paramedic slapping on the last bandage, when Ella gestured for the other agent to help her.

“We need to get out there,” she said when the man frowned and opened his mouth to protest. “It’s a matter of life and death.”

He nodded.

She gently pushed Finn off her, held his clouded gaze. “Finn, we have to close the Gate. I’ll do my best to help you, but we need to hurry.”

***

The paramedic found Finn’s discarded shirt flung in a corner of the room. “He’ll freeze his balls off if he goes out half-naked. It’s a fucking blizzard.”

Ella helped him pull the shirt over Finn’s head and push his arms into the sleeves, then smoothed it down, mindful of the bandages.

Together they lifted him to his feet. Finn hung between them, barely conscious. One thing was clear: he had almost no control over his body and couldn’t step on his bad leg. The silver lining was that the sedative still in his system probably dulled the worst of the pain.

“This isn’t working,” grunted the paramedic.

Ella panted as she adjusted Finn’s heavy arm over her shoulders. “So what do you suggest?”

“Let me.” The young man whose name Ella didn’t even know turned and grabbed Finn around the waist. “Fireman’s carry.”

That made sense, Ella thought, as he slung Finn over his shoulder and straightened. Still, it was unnerving seeing Finn handled like a rag doll, his blond head hanging against the man’s back.

Dammit.

Nothing for it now. They made their slow way down the stairs and to the entrance hall. The paramedic was a slender, thin guy and by that time his legs were trembling. He put Finn down and Ella moved in to lend some support.

As the cold air blew through from the street, Finn seemed to regain some sense of alertness. Placing him between them, she and the paramedic staggered to the open door leading to the street.

Then they were out and Ella gasped.
Jesus H. Christ.

She’d expected some sort of chaos — but not this.

Not this scene of war and the deafening noise.

Not the giant teardrop-shaped silver tower hovering in mid-air, firing missiles, so big its top was lost in the clouds.

The fire and smoke, the people running and screaming. The police cars, lights flashing, the sound of their sirens lost in the pandemonium.

And the dragons. Diving through the air, nearly transparent, as if made of glass, spitting fire.

Finn stumbled and grunted. The paramedic who had his other side was sinking to his knees.

Ella tightened her hold around Finn’s waist and he flinched. Warm blood coated her fingers.
Shit.

They’d stepped out of a crime scene onto a battlefield from hell. Helicopters roared overhead, whipping the falling snow into eddies, their spotlights carving long cones of brilliance into the haze.

Another missile shot out of the silver tower and smashed into a building. For a moment it looked like nothing had happened — then the building’s wall folded into itself and it shattered like glass, chunks dropping on the street and cars.

Holy shit
.

It was happening. The elves were invading. The huge Gate stood wide open, and another tower slowly crossing through the snow drifts, the size of a building, floating in the air.

Finn shuddered, his head lifting as if waking up from a dream. “
Faen
,” he breathed.

Yeah.

She heard her name being called nearby and saw Dave jog toward her.

“The Gate,” he shouted. “Close it.”

Mighty good idea.
If only Finn had enough energy to even stand upright... “We’re trying.”

Dave reached them, a team following him, Kevlar vests, machine guns and all. Damn, she never thought she’d be so glad to see Dave’s face.

“What are you waiting for?” he snapped. “Do something.”

Okay, there went the warm fuzzy.

“Have you seen how he is?” Ella glanced at Finn’s profile, his drawn face, the confused gaze. “Give him a moment.”

Dave narrowed his eyes, then turned to his agents. “Someone bring him a cup of hot coffee. I don’t care how you get it. Now!”

Two agents took off running.

The earth shook, making them all stumble. The second tower had emerged fully, rings rotating on its surface, bright lights flashing.

Ella pulled Finn backward as debris showered on them. Icy gusts hit them, pushing them backward, until they fetched up against a wall.

The dragons swooped over the stationary cars and buses, fire bursting from their mouths. Metal melted, pooling in the street. Flames jumped. Black smoke rose, the thick columns immediately blown away by the wind.

An agent appeared by Finn’s side, pressing a plastic cup into his hand. When Finn didn’t take it, the agent — a young, frightened-looking guy — put it to Finn’s lips and helped him drink.

Finn made a choked noise and batted the cup away. Some color was returning to his cheeks. Another gust and his pale hair whipped his neck.

Then Dave got into his face. “You must close the Gate, son, or we’re done for. Do you understand?”

And for once Ella couldn’t deny he was right.

It was surreal — the gleaming towers, hovering over the buildings, glowing through the driving snow. The helicopters buzzing like dark flies around the huge machines, firing but not able to stop them. The chaos of people running for cover below.

Not a dream. Running on borrowed time.

Finn pursed his mouth in concentration and lifted his hand.

His threads flashed into existence, golden lines filling the world. She could hear them now — a soft, haunting melody, faltering notes, trembling like Finn’s hand. She could feel his shuddering breaths under her arm, feel the way his lungs expanded and constricted.

Her anger returned. So many people had hurt him and it wasn’t fair. Wasn’t right. He tried to do good and always ended up bleeding.

Her fury called her threads forth, the vertical crimson strands vibrating with tension and anger. Her own tune pulsed in her ears, in her mind — a deep thrumming beat, like a war march.

He needed her help. She caught his hand, laced her fingers with his cold ones, held on tight. Drew a deep breath.

She pushed her own power into his and he recoiled. Then he gripped her hand right back.

Tightening the weave of the world, meshing together his pain and her fury, until you couldn’t see the threads but instead the pattern, couldn’t hear the tunes but heard the song.

The song of pain and war.

And the pain was all so real. Spears of fire lanced through Ella’s skull. When she licked her lips, she tasted blood. The back of her eyeballs ached. Her heart was trying to break free of her chest.

The pattern was emerging clearer, the weave around the Gate forming, knitting fast, pressing down and in. Forcing the gaping hole in the fabric of the universe to close. Smaller and smaller the Gate shrank, like a vertical eye shutting.

Faintly she was aware of shouts and screams, of the ground shaking. Nothing mattered — nothing but the closing Gate and seeing the pattern emerging around them. Bleeding colors and snakes of light twining with inky spills of velvet darkness, swirling into a spiral.

Merging into a central shape.

A starburst.

***

The tally was two towers and maybe three dragons with their riders loose on the city. Could have been worse, Ella supposed. Could have been the whole of the elven army.