Boreal and John Grey Season 1 (32 page)

And Finn had stopped struggling.

Shit
. “Help Finn. Sarah!” Heart in her mouth, Ella pointed at the troll. “Shoot it!”

Sarah stepped sideways, took aim and fired. The troll grunted and let Finn fall. The hole in its head smoked, but Ella knew it wouldn’t stop it. But now she had full view of the creature. Her
shuriken
flew true, hitting it in the grey chest, and it shattered into nothingness.

The Gate fizzled and the image of Finn’s mother blurred. Ella stood, rooted in place, a breath frozen in her chest. Finn. Sprawled, face down.
Another deja vu.

Then Finn coughed, and shifted, heaving himself on all fours.

Ella’s chest unlocked and she drew a deep breath.
Goddamn tough bastard
. Aware she had a stupid grin on her face, she moved toward him, only to be brought up short by a hand on her arm.

Sarah
. Ella shook the manicured hand off. “Not now.”

“We need to talk.”

“If it’s to tell me the Shades have gone silent, I know.” Impatiently, she took another step toward Finn who was struggling to get up.

“I heard things before they went silent. Things you need to know. About John Grey.”

That got Ella’s attention. Torn between helping Finn and finding out what Sarah had heard, she clenched her fists at her sides. “Fine. Come along. Let’s take Finn home and we can talk.”

***

Dave had waved them off, saying he’d take care of the situation — the wounded and the terrified. He’d avoided looking at Finn who had saved his life in the fight.

Finn who now sat on the couch, absently rubbing the new marks around his throat. He reached up and tugged his bandana lower.

Sarah sipped her instant coffee, obviously too polite to make a face at the taste. The bruises below her eyes had faded, and her movements were smooth and controlled. Her legs were strong above her fashionable shoes; she probably worked out. She knew how to use a gun and wasn’t afraid to use it. There was a lot more to this woman than met the eye, apart from her ability to Hear beyond the Veil, and Ella found herself liking her more and more.

“So.”
Small talk first or right to the point? Ah screw it
. “What did you hear?”

Sarah set down her mug and folded her hands in her lap. The photos Ella’s mother had brought lay scattered on the table where she’d thrown them, a kaleidoscope of past life. “John Grey.”

“Go on.”

“You know he seems connected to the Gates.”

More than just connected, as it turns out
. “Yes?”

“Ella...” Sarah cast a quick look at Finn who had stopped fiddling with his bandana and sat silent and focused.

“My partner,” Ella said. “We keep no secrets.”
At least I don’t
.

“Okay.” Sarah relaxed and smoothed her hands on her skirt. “So, I can’t swear I understood correctly, and this was just before the Voices stopped completely, but...”

Finn harrumphed.

“Yes?” Ella’s patience was wearing thin as well. “Do you know what John Grey is, or what the elves plan to do with him? Is he on his way here? What?”

“Sorry.” Sarah flinched. “As I said, don’t take this as a fact, but... Well, it looks like John Grey is in our world already.”

Well, damn
. Ella sat up, leaned forward. “Here. Now. The hell? I thought the elves had him.”

Sarah shrugged. She reached out and moved the photos on the table, arranging them in a row. “As I said...”

“Right. You can’t be sure.” Who could it be? If it was a Shade, how long could he keep out of the Grey? If it was a Duergr, who would it disguise like? A politician? Someone in the army? “That’s it?”

“I thought it important.”

“It is.” Ella rubbed her leg. The old bone fracture ached. Her head throbbed. “It’s just that...” Too many tidbits of information, pieces of a puzzle that wouldn’t fit together, wouldn’t form a picture.

Or was she looking at it the wrong way?

John Grey was here. The Gates were opening. Simon was a Guardian. Or not? She was a stabilizer. For what? The Shades had gone silent. Why?

“Is that you?” Sarah pointed at a picture of a woman holding a grinning toddler. “Cute.”

Ella picked up the photo, absently running her fingertip over the beautiful, smiling woman and the man with his arms around her. Dad looked happy, too. That was long before she started seeing things. When everything seemed fine.

Finn reached over and picked up another photo. He stared at it, mouth thinning. Ella leaned closer to see what he was seeing. It was herself, at three or four years of age, standing in their backyard. Their cat stared suspiciously at the camera, pressed against her chubby leg, and in the background she could make out two figures at the house steps.

“What?” She made as if to take the photo from him.

“This.” He pointed at one of the murky figures in the background. “I didn’t know you knew Dave since you were little.”

Ella pried the photo from his fingers and stared at it. Right there — the same face, same frown, god, the same stubble.

The picture fell from her hands. The room began to spin. All... lies and more lies. Dizzy, she bent her head between her knees, hoping she wasn’t going to throw up. She hated that.

“Are you okay?” Sarah asked. “Maybe I should leave...”

Ella barely heard her. Finn shifted closer and put his arm around her. Ella let her forehead drop on his shoulder, inhaling his scent of spice and musk and swallowed hysterical laughter. Because she didn’t know if she could trust Finn, either — an elf, with many secrets — but she’d thought she could trust her boss, head of the Paranormal Bureau and sworn protector of her world.

Wrong again
.

***

A ray of sunlight tortured Ella’s eyes. They felt bruised, as if someone had punched them in. Funny she couldn’t remember it happening.

She rolled over. She was in her bed. Pulling the covers over her head, she burrowed deeper in the warmth. She vaguely recalled walking up and down the apartment, cursing Dave, and Finn making her tea and finally hauling her to bed.

Finn
. He’d tucked her in and had sat with her, silent but there, right there, warm and solid, his hand on hers, until she’d drifted to sleep.

Where was he? She peeked above the covers, her eyes adjusting to the early morning light. The room was empty.

Ignoring the pang of disappointment — hell, had she imagined him there? — she took stock of the situation.

Dave
. It was all a game, wasn’t it? He’d tried to gain her confidence, had played her to get information out of her. Had he — god, had he planted the book? The paper in Simon’s apartment? She’d thought Simon’s handwriting genuine, but now she wouldn’t put it past Dave to have orchestrated everything.

Throwing the covers off, she stared down at herself. Still fully dressed. At least she wasn’t wearing shoes. She got up and gathered her hair in its customary ponytail, snapping on a hairband.

What now? How to handle Dave? Tell him she knew his game, or play one of her own?

He didn’t know about the photos. Didn’t know she suspected him of...
God, don’t go there. Not yet. Too early in the day for nightmares
.

She padded down the corridor to the kitchen and put water to boil. Where was Finn? Peeking into the living room, she found him doing his morning exercises. Forgot herself for a moment.

The living room windows faced east, and light streamed through the blinds, making it look as if Finn’s loose hair was on fire, sparks flying as he moved through a series of lunges and punches. It was a sort of
kata
, a choreography of a fight, each motion controlled and smooth. Muscles rippled in his arms and bare chest, bunched and released in his legs, and that look of utter concentration on his face...

Whoa
. A girl was justified in gaping just a little, right?

Fanning herself, Ella retreated with an effort back into the kitchen. She went to pour the water for her tea and struggled to retrace her thoughts. What had she been fuming about a moment ago?

Ah, right. Dave
.

That washed over her like cold water, sobering her. She dipped the tea bag into her mug and sat at the table.

She wouldn’t tell Dave anything. She’d let him think she had no clue, that she believed him.
Then...
She sighed, smacked her palm against her forehead to jump start her brain.
Then what?

She’d investigate Dave. Was he a Guardian? Then there would be signs. Maybe she’d already noticed them and not connected them in her mind. Not eating, check. Not sleeping? Check, maybe. He drank tea. Was it tea or something else?
Shit
.

Maybe her mother would remember him. She’d have to ask her.
Double shit
.

And finally, there was the seam. The spirals. The cogs. What had Mike said?
Take a bottle of alcohol with you
. When drunk, she might be able to see it.

Good lord
. Her boss. Who’d been like a father to Simon. To her.

Another thought hit her and she froze, mug halfway to her mouth. John Grey was in this world. A mysterious being, probably a Guardian.

Her hand shook and she put the mug down, tea sloshing over her fingers, burning them. She barely felt it.