Boreal and John Grey Season 1

by Chrystalla Thoma

  She wanted Dave to see Finn as little as possible. Despite Dave’s mellowing after their meeting at the motel, she feared he’d be able to tell Finn was aelfr. He wasn’t distracted by male beauty like she was, and Finn was... ‘eye-candy’ didn’t begin to cover it.

  “Simon,” Dave said, and that snapped her back to attention. “We found something odd in his electronic files.”

  Ella sat up. “Anything about John Grey?” The book she’d taken from the library weighed her bag, propped by her feet. She hadn’t had a chance to read through the whole of it, but after the mention of spirals the story had degenerated into list of gifts the elves had brought and songs sung by King Sirurd’s drunken guests.

  “No.” Dave pursed his lips. “But there was something else. Something about you.”

  “Me?” Ella stared at him, mind blanking. Well, Simon had marked the word “spirals” in the book and had scribbled her name next to it, in the margin, but it had only made her wonder how he’d known about her dreams. The book was obviously important because it told of John Grey, and it might contain information about him. Which she hadn’t found yet, but still.

  “What can you tell me,” Dave watched her intently, “about your early childhood?”

  Shocked, she leaned back in her chair, putting distance between them. Her heart hammered against her ribcage, her pulse echoing inside her every limb. She thought she saw spirals turning inside Dave’s head, shiny cogwheels. She thought she saw a hand coming to cup her face.

  Shaking her head, she took a deep breath, held it. Let it out.

  “Ella?”

  With an effort she looked back at Dave. There were no wheels, of course, and he watched her as if she was an animal about to run. She wanted to run. Was that how Finn felt all the time? “I don’t remember anything.”

  “That can’t be true,” Dave said, steepling his fingers on the desk. “At least from a certain age upward, when you were four or five.”

  “Dave, I don’t. I swear.” It was ridiculous, but a weight crushed her chest, constricted her breathing. Was she about to have a panic attack? “I can’t remember anything.”

  He frowned. “So when do your memories start?”

  “Around age seven, I think.” Strange, yes, but they’d talked about this with the psychologist many times over. Childhood trauma of some sort, though they hadn’t been able to pinpoint the cause. She realized she was gripping the armrests and she unclenched her fingers. “Why the questions, Dave? What did you find in Simon’s files?”

  “What do you know about those years you don’t remember? What do your parents say?”

  She shrugged. Her back muscles were so tense the movement hurt. “Nothing special. Mother said I was a quiet child. Then I started having nightmares, and seeing things that weren’t there. Shades, I guess. Then I would scream that the monsters had come to get me. They took me to psychologists, shrinks and all the like. She said...” Funny how the memory of it still hurt. “Said I broke up our family.”

  Dave sighed, rearranged the papers on his desk. “Well, it’s odd,” he said, drawing out the words, “an odd coincidence, I mean, that Simon should know more about your past than you do.”

  Ella bit her lip. “I only met Simon when I came to the Bureau two years ago.”

  “Exactly my point. But he obviously knew you long before that.”

  It made no sense. “Wait a sec. He knew me before? During the time I don’t remember?” But why hadn’t he ever mentioned it?

  Her head hurt.

  “He kept a sort of diary,” Dave said, clicking on a folder on his computer screen. “An observation log.”

  “Of me?” Could things get any weirder?

  “Yes. Apparently he watched you grow up, and took notes. On occasion, he met you.”

  He did? “Notes about what?”

  “Your abilities, and I quote.” He squinted at the screen. “Ella’s abilities are growing, but she’s starting to fight them and refuses to see.”

  “See what? I don’t understand.” She rubbed her temples. “Of course I saw Shades, but I’m hardly unique in that. Does he explain?”

  Dave shook his head. “I was hoping you could tell me.”

  “Well, I have no clue.” She leaned forward. “Instead of asking me these things, shouldn’t we be asking ourselves who the hell Simon was?”

  “I don’t know that, but I have my suspicions.” He rubbed his eyes. “I will let you in, but this is classified information, agent, so let’s keep this between us.” He pulled a folder, opened it, pulled out a page and pushed it toward her.

  She took it, glanced at the logo at the top. A clock. Spirals and cogs. Damn. “What’s this?” She scanned the text below, a list of clauses. “An organization for the protection of... the Gates?”

  Dave nodded, tight-lipped and somber.

  “Simon belonged to it?”

  “I don’t know who Simon was, or who he worked for. I, however, have belonged to this organization for a long time.”

  Since he was a baby, most probably. She couldn’t imagine Dave being anything but adult, grey-haired and capable. Talking of babies... “How is it possible Simon was keeping a diary about me when I was little? I thought Simon was roughly my age.” Had never seen his ID, but he’d looked young.

  “I thought so too,” Dave said, eyes darkening. “Ella, look, nothing is certain, but the evidence—”

  She raised a hand. Right. The evidence screamed at her that she hadn’t known Simon; that Simon had been something other than her best friend and partner. Other than human. “Why wasn’t I aware of this organization before?”

  “Because secret organizations are like that.”

  Oh, more secrets. Lovely. “Right. You’re a member of a super secret club protecting the Gates — and not very ineffectively, as it appears.”

  “The organization has existed for centuries, ever since the last recorded appearance of the elves, back in the Middle Ages.”

  “Great. Really happy for you, Dave, I hope it’s been fun.” She shook the piece of paper at him. “The connection to Simon?”

  “Not everyone is against the opening of the damn Gates, Ella.” Dave was humming again, that annoying high-pitched noise. Was he grinding his teeth?

  “You’re saying Simon was pro-elf or something?” Like she was. Sort of. Pro-Finn.

  Dave shrugged. “All I’m saying is that we need to trust each other. Anything you may know that could help us find John Grey or close the Gates...”

  He left it hanging. And it rang so much like what she’d said to Sarah, Simon’s girlfriend, at the hospital, it made her uneasy. And then Sarah’s words leaped to her mind. Guardians, she’d said. Linked to you, since you were a child.

  “Simon must have sought you out with a purpose,” Dave said, as if reading her thoughts. “What if your abilities have to do with what’s coming?” He leaned toward her. “You have strange dreams, don’t you? Memories from your childhood.”

  Ella flinched. “No.” She tried to calm herself. “Nightmares. That’s all.” A man’s face, the feeling of being ripped away from all she knew, all that was safe. “Did Simon write about that, too?”

  “No. You can trust me, Ella. If you have some other ability, maybe you can help us—”

  “Dammit, Dave, I said I have no clue what he was talking about. You talk of trust. Tell me what you know about this creature, this Grey guy.”

  Dave scowled. “Few documents survived since that time. I’ve looked everywhere, searched all archives and libraries and private collections. Our members unearthed every document they could find, paying mind-blowing sums, to assemble every scrap of evidence we have about John Grey.” He ran a hand through his short hair. “So you’ll excuse me if I’m frustrated here. All my life I’ve been trying to figure out what it is we’re after, and keep coming up blank. I do know the elves found John Grey and kept him safe and hidden. A human? A Dark elf? In the epics, the Boreals sure don’t talk as if he’s one of them.”
r />   That made sense.

  “And if he’s a Dark elf? What do they look like? Are they dark skinned?” Finn was a Light elf. Light elves were obviously tall and pale with pointed ears. Logical.

  “No, not at all.” Dave frowned. “Dark elves are just...different.” He shifted, looking uncomfortable.

  “Different how?” Did she have to wring his arm behind his back to get a straight answer?

  “Elves belong to two distinct races. They had a common ancestor, of course, similar to ours. But they developed from two different forms and didn’t intermarry much.”

  “Are you saying... what? Dark elves have what, horns? Tails? Striped skin?”

  “Wings,” Dave said.

  A hysterical giggle rose to Ella’s lips. She smothered it. “Wings. You serious?”

  Dave’s brows drew together in a dark scowl that could have competed with Finn’s. “Do you see me laughing?”

  “Okay.” Wings. Damn. Of course, after the dragons, nothing should have the power to surprise her anymore.

  “They also have strong magic. Very strong.”

  Whatever that meant. It was like trying to picture a color you couldn’t see. “And why did you wait so long to tell me all this?”

  “Because we were sure the Gates weren’t about to open. Because we looked and searched but it seemed like John Grey was gone and the elves locked out of our world. Because there was no need.”

  She considered standing up and leaving. Punching her boss really wasn’t a good idea. “I wasn’t talking about the years you spent looking. I meant since the Shades began their attacks, since Simon died, and since the wolves and the dragon came through! Christ, Dave.”

  “Apologies.” He was still humming. Strung as a wire. He leaned forward, his eyes searching hers. “Please. Talk to me. Anything unusual you remember, anything you noticed... ”

  Could she trust him? He was finally talking to her, taking her into his confidence. Maybe it was time to tell Dave about the book, and about Finn. She’d held back because she thought Simon didn’t trust him, but Simon hadn’t been who he’d seemed.

  She opened her mouth to speak, when a creak and whine sounded from behind her, then steps.

  Ella jerked around as Dave said, “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Finn stood inside the office, hands on the hilts of his knives. Head bent forward, he gazed steadily back at Dave, pale hair half-obscuring his face.

  “Finn? What is it?”

  “I don’t feel so well,” Finn muttered. “Let’s go.”

  Ella jumped to her feet. For Finn to admit to it, it had to be pretty bad. “Sit down, I’ll—”

  “I thought you said he was fine by now,” Dave said dryly.

  “Honestly?” Ella muttered, furious. “He’s had a concussion, cracked ribs and lost lots of blood. He shouldn’t have come in today.” She turned to Finn, met him glare for glare. “Told you to stay home.”

  “I’m your partner,” Finn ground out. “Not your servant.” If he was dizzy, he didn’t show it — then again, with Finn it was hard to tell.

  “Sorry, Dave.” Ella put a hand on Finn’s arm, and felt him tense under her touch. “We’ll talk about this later. Could you give me a printout of Simon’s notes?”

  He slid a piece of paper across his polished desk. “That’s all we could retrieve. Read it and see if it triggers any memories, what you make of it.”

  “Thanks.” She grabbed it, folded it and shoved it into her pocket.

  “This information stays between us,” Dave grumbled. “It was a confidential discussion,” he sent Finn a pointed look, “so please let’s keep it that way.”

  “As I’ve told you many times before, we’re in this together,” Ella said, guiding Finn to the door. “What I know, he knows.”

  Without waiting for Dave’s surely nasty comeback, she pulled Finn outside and let the door close behind them.

  ***

  “Are you okay?” She attempted to get Finn into the car but he resisted, a dark frown on his face. “Hey, only trying to help.”

  “I’m okay.” Snapped without a hint of weakness.

  “You said you didn’t feel well.”

  Finn said nothing. Giving up, she left him to his own devices and went around the car to take the wheel. The drive back home was spent in buzzing silence. She kept glancing at Finn who was busy glaring a hole into the windshield. Okay, what the hell? He didn’t look pale or shaky.

  Parking in front of their building, she turned to demand an explanation and Finn cut her a sideways look.

  “I’m fine,” he said, a flush coloring his cheekbones. “I said it to draw you away from there.”

  “Dammit, have you any idea how worried—” She bit her lip and clenched her hands on the wheel. “Okay, what’s going on?”

  “You were going to give that man information you hadn’t planned on giving.”

  “That man? Are you talking about our boss?”

  Finn shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t trust him.”

  From the way Dave acted, she’d say the feeling was mutual. “He said Simon wasn’t who we thought he was. That he watched me grow and took notes. That he met me, and I can’t remember any of it.” It left a bad taste in her mouth, it felt like a violation, that she couldn’t remember these things — and just how old was Simon, for Christ’s sake? “I talk to Dave because you don’t talk to me.” Hint, hint, Finn. “I can’t figure this out on my own.”

  “What do you remember?” Finn asked quietly.

  “Spirals. I see them in my nightmares.”

  Finn nodded, face grim.

  “What does it mean?”

  “Duergr,” Finn spat. “If you saw spirals... You saw a Guardian.”

  Hadn’t Simon’s girlfriend, Sarah, mentioned that word? “What are Guardians?”

  “Servants of the Dark elves.”

  Silence fell as she tried to digest this new bit of info. “You heard what Dave said about my supposed abilities?”

  “I heard.”

  Of course he did. Elvish ears weren’t pointed for nothing; probably as good as a cat’s. “The only thing I’ve proven good at, so far, is destroying my family and fighting Shades.” She turned off the engine, sat in the quiet. “But what if Dave is right? He knows more about these things than I do, that’s for sure.”

  “I don’t trust him,” Finn said again, stubbornly. Not that she expected anything less.

  “I know.” She hadn’t either, had thought Simon felt the same way — but if Simon had been the one lying all along? He’d kept things from her: his girlfriend, the book, knowledge of her dreams, and now maybe much more. Who could she trust? Finn had revealed he was a Boreal, the enemy, and she couldn’t rule out the possibility he was spying for the other side. Maybe she could talk to Mike.

  “Ella?”

  “Sorry.” Staring into the void again. Sure sign of a healthy mind. “Will you tell me about the dark elves and the Guardians?”

  Finn stilled, then nodded.

  “Good.” She tried for a lighter tone. “I think we need hot tea and cookies for this conversation.”

  Finn opened his door, letting in an icy breeze. The snow hadn’t melted and it made iridescent lines dance on his face and hands. Goddammit, she shared an apartment with an aelfr — an alien being who’d crossed the Veil from another world where people had magic and rode dragons and fought scaly wolves. But when he glanced at her, a faint smile on his lips, he was just Finn, the man she trusted with her life.

  How had she gotten into this mess?

  She watched as he climbed out with a grunt and leaned against the car. His leg probably giving him trouble.

  Getting out, she glanced over at him, found him blinking dazedly. He wasn’t pretending this time, she could tell, but as soon as he caught her gaze, he straightened and pushed off the car.

  Stubborn, stubborn...

  Waiting for him to make his limping way to the building, staying back so she wouldn’t be tempted
to help him, she pulled out the piece of paper from her pocket and scanned the page Dave had given her.

  Damned abbreviations. Assuming ‘E’ stood for ‘Ella’, and the numbers for dates... Seeing things. Right. ‘9/8. E saw glimmer and rocks. Said looked like snow.’ ‘12/4. E scared. Said she saw a shiny monster and a woman.’ ‘10/7. E saw trees.’

  Nothing about spirals. This made no sense.

  When she looked up again, Finn had reached the building entrance. Making a mental list of goals for the day, she jogged to catch up, shoving the paper back into her pocket. Besides deciphering the damn paper, if it had any meaning, she would feed Finn and made sure he rested, then grill him until he told her all he knew. Then check on Missy, go through the rest of the book and have a talk with Mike.

  Who knew lack of attacks could prove so exhausting?

  As for Simon... Her heart clenched. She thought she’d known him, that they’d been friends, but as it turned out, she’d known exactly nothing.

  ***

  As expected, her plan didn’t pan out — foremost because someone had broken into the apartment and turned everything inside out.

  The apartment lock had been smashed. She stood in the living room and stared at the upended carton boxes with her meager belongings strewn across the floor, the drawers of the cabinet donated by Mike’s mother lying broken, their contents spilled.

  She put a hand on her bag, felt the book inside, a hard, sinister presence. Was that what they were after? Could it be Simon had left some reference to it in his electronic files? That would have led them to the library, and then right to her.

  One of the armchairs had been smashed against the wall. An act of rage because they hadn't found the book? Or an act of rage because they hadn't found her or Finn?

  She turned in a circle.

  Finn returned from checking the bedrooms and entered the living room, his gun cocked and held in both hands.

  “Clear?” she asked.

  His face was drawn in worried lines. “Not sure.”