Boreal and John Grey Season 1 (35 page)

Guilt washed over Sarah’s features. “At first.” She put forward a hand when Ella clicked her gun safety off. “I swear to you, I only wanted to check him out. The Shades had spoken his name and then he told me he’d discovered something important about the elves and the Gates and...” She swallowed hard. “I was falling in love with him when he died. I still love him.”

The pain in Sarah’s eyes looked real. Was she telling the truth? 

“I do think Dave is John Grey,” Sarah muttered.

Finn cocked his head to the side, examining Sarah, a light flickering in his gaze. “Why?”

Flinching a little, Sarah wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “He seems to know too much.” Her gaze flicked to Finn, then fell away. “As do you.”

“You’re not wrong,” Ella said and winced as Finn’s white-hot glare hit her. “About Dave.” She glared back. “I’m not sure he’s John Grey but I’m pretty sure he’s not who he seems.”

Sarah nodded, drew a shaky breath. “Can I put my hands down now, or are you still thinking of shooting me?”

“That depends,” Ella said and lifted a brow. “Are
you
?”

“Damn.” Sarah snorted, chin falling to her chest. “I have no choice but to trust you, do I?”

“We’re in the same boat,” Ella said, and waited.

“I won’t try to harm you,” Sarah muttered. “I swear.”

“Swear on what?”

“On Simon, okay?” Sarah’s eyes glimmered. “You loved him, too. Not the way you love Finn, of course.” She shrugged. “I can see that.”

Finn stood frozen, his face blank.

“It beats me how you think you know something like that about me,” Ella bit out, her chest a jumble of emotions, foremost of which panic. She clicked the safety back on her gun, not trusting herself not to shoot the woman. “Make up your mind. Will you work with us or not?”

Sarah lowered her hands. “Yes. But if I get any hint that you’re working for the enemy, I’m coming back for you.”

Ella shrugged. “Same goes for you.” She turned to Finn. “Shall we?”

His eyes were stormy and she couldn’t read a single thing in them. Then, without a word, he turned on his heel and left.

Chapter Two

Breathing

The Laundromat was empty and dim. Ella slumped in one of the plastic chairs waiting for the cycle to end. The clothes tumbled round and round, like her thoughts.

Good god, she was in love with Finn. Thrown into her face as it had been, she couldn’t ignore it any longer. Her feelings had a name. With a capital L.

Feelings for Finn who, if anything, had turned colder and more distant since the encounter with Sarah.

It shouldn’t make her chest so tight. He’d been distant before.

And she couldn’t allow this to become anything. She always broke whatever she had; things, people, relationships. The only reason her friendship with Simon endured over the years was that they were so casual about it, as if they didn’t care. But with Finn... That couldn’t work. He was so intense about everything, and the thought of ever losing him was like a knife in her chest. Even being apart from him for a while, like now, felt like dying a little.

Dangerous, those feelings. And war-time relationships weren’t meant to last.

Ella snorted and leaned her head back against the wall.
Christ, Ella. Since when do you want something serious with Finn?
She pressed her thumbs into her eyes.
Goddammit
. Could her life get any more complicated?

She pulled from her pocket the piece of paper she’d found in Simon’s lighter. Frowning, she ran her fingertips over the words.
Bran Hoodvild
. Who the hell was he? And that name... it looked Dutch. Or Swedish, maybe. She’d do a search on the internet, see if she found anything on him.

Why would Simon feel the need to hide knowledge? Had he suspected Dave, too? What had he known?

Too many questions for a brain on too little sleep. And where was Finn? He should be there already. With the Shades after him, it worried her that he was late.

Then the door jingled and Finn walked in, blond hair brushing his shoulders, tall and imposing in black.

Hm...
What had she been thinking about?

She sat up in her seat. Strange how her heart missed a beat just by seeing him.
And damn annoying
. “Did you get everything you wanted?”

Finn brandished a plastic bag full of purchases. He glanced sideways at the dryer and arched a brow at her.

The cycle was over; the clothes were done. Blinking, she got up and opened the machine, filling the room with the scent of lavender. She all but buried her nose in the soft, warm fabrics to block Finn’s spicy smell. She started shoving the clothes into her duffel bag — her jeans, Finn’s briefs, all mixed up, like her feelings.

A hand reached for the bag and she jerked, her heart racing.

Finn pulled back his hand and frowned.

“Sorry,” Ella whispered.
Christ, get a grip on yourself
. “Just jumpy, I guess.”

She let Finn take the bag. He slung it easily over one broad shoulder and she was again distracted by the way his muscles stretched his t-shirt across his chest.
Shit
.

Resolutely looking away, she led the way to the car.

***

“Come again?” Ella balanced the phone between shoulder and cheek as she filled the fridge with food. Finn’s selections consisted of meat and more meat, plus long black tubers that looked vaguely like carrots but —
black?
She really hoped Finn was going to cook that. She had no idea what to do with it.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Dave grated. “You’re not driving, are you?”

“Nope, I’m home. What’s up? Another attack?”

“Actually no.”

Ella frowned and closed the fridge. “Spill.”

“You know the wolves that passed through the Gates?” Dave was clicking something, probably opening files on his computer.

“Yep. We killed the last ones. You said no more came through.”

“Well, there were more. They just didn’t make it through whole.”

Whoa
. “Like the snake?”

“Yeah. More animals crossed through, or tried, but they were cut into two or more pieces. I thought the Gates were stable, but it seems not, which must be why the elves haven’t crossed yet.”

Not stable
. “Interesting.”
To say the least
. “So my ‘stabilizing abilities’,” she drawled, “are not working.”

“Yeah, looks like it, doesn’t it?” There was a rustle of papers in the background. “Hell. I must be missing something, some connection.”

“About what?”

“The formation of the Gates. We have at least four fully formed ones. Three downtown where the wolves crossed, one at your building and one at the mall where the dragons passed.”

“Right.”

“We know of a half-formed one in the storehouse where you found the snake, and now two more, one near Simon’s apartment and one outside the old people’s home where Greary, Simon’s uncle, lived.”

“Are you saying this had to do with Simon?”

Dave grunted. “I thought so at first, but Simon died and the Gates kept forming.”

Exactly
. A chill ran down her spine. Was Dave and John Grey one and the same? But if Dave was the one opening the Gates, why would he share this information with her? Why would he pretend at all?

“Ella, where are you?” Mike’s voice rang from the living room. “Brought you the pot Finn asked for!”

What?

“Are you having a party over there?” Dave sounded miffed.

“Keep me posted,” she grunted into the phone. “Got to go now.” Well, she could have a life, couldn’t she? Apart from work?

She flipped the phone closed and stood still in the kitchen, frowning. All right, since when did she have a social life?

“Here, it’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Mike was saying from the living room. “I figured you probably don’t need a cutting knife, with all the knives you’ve got, but I brought you one anyway. Why? Are you serious, man? Because your knives have ichor and wolf blood on them and I wouldn’t like that in my food. Mind you, I’ve tried stranger things.”

One-sided conversation. Which meant the other speaker, for lack of a better term, was Finn.

Wait...
Finn had invited Mike over for dinner?

Amused, she lingered in the kitchen doorway, taking in the scene. Mike, gesturing at the pot he held with a small knife, and Finn, still as a statue, arms folded, head bent, listening. He nodded once.

Uncanny. And sort of funny.

Heart-warming.

Somewhere inside she wanted to be annoyed Finn hadn’t asked her before organizing a dinner party, but she couldn’t. After all, it was his house, too, and hey, he was apparently going to cook.

For real
.

Grinning, she retreated into the kitchen. The Gates were not stable, and the future held good food. What more could she want?

A memory of Finn’s lips, his taste, rose in her memory. Sighing, she went to put the rest of the things away.

***

“It’s called cassava,” Mike said, spearing a piece of something crispy and white with his fork.

“Are you sure these are the black things Finn bought?” Ella gave her plate a dubious look, then sniffed the food. She had to admit, the stew smelled delicious, sending her stomach into cramps of hunger. “And it’s like a potato?”

Finn arched a pale brow.

“Not that I doubt it tastes great,” Ella hastily added and lifted a forkful to her mouth. “Superb, really, great s—”
Oh my god
. Her eyes fluttered shut in bliss as she chewed. What was this stuff? Heaven on a plate. “So good.”

Scott snorted from across the table. “Your mama didn’t cook much?”

“You kidding me? If memory serves, we only had take-away. No wonder I turned out like this.” Ella opened her eyes to find Finn studying her. An uncertain smile hovered at the edges of his mouth.

“You like it?” he rasped, his strange, musical accent more pronounced than usual.

“It’s amazing.” Ella waved her fork at the laden table. Wine, stew, long strips of beef with a spicy sauce, and these... cassava pieces, crispy and sweet. She served herself another spoonful. “I’m missing something, right? Is it Christmas already?”

“In October?” Mike muttered.

“We always seem to meet in a haze of alcohol,” Scott noted, his face serious. “Has anyone else noticed that?”