Dave’s gun went off as she threw herself to the side, behind a desk. The fawn screeched as it dropped, twitching and sparkling, before it faded back to the Grey.
“Damn.” Ella righted herself, her fingers cramping around the gun grip. “Can you see who...?”
“Nelson from the Special Victims Unit. What the hell was he doing here?” Dave stalked over the puddle of steaming ichor to the human body. He knelt briefly, checked for a pulse. “Dead.”
Ella leaned against the desk, her knees weak. Somewhere deep inside, relief warred with guilt for being so glad it was a guy she didn’t know; that it wasn’t Finn, or Jefferson.
“There are others,” she said. “More Shades.”
Dave didn’t ask how she knew.
It was easy. Finn wouldn’t have hidden to spare himself. If he wasn’t there, then he was fighting the Shades somewhere else.
“Let’s go.” Dave cast one last look at the rows of guns and blades and stepped outside.
Ella got up to follow him when a blade on the floor caught her eye. She bent to examine it and knew why it had drawn her attention: it was one of Finn’s bowie knives. The fight had begun here, as she’d suspected, and she fought the cold wave of fear that came at the heels of the realization that either Finn had sent a Shade back to the Veil right here and hadn’t had the time to retrieve his weapon as he fought his way out of the room — or the Shades had gotten him and pulled him with them into the Grey.
Dammit, no. Pull yourself together.
Gun in hand, she slunk into the corridor. The lights were flickering — nothing unusual, though, the fixtures had been crappy from day one — and she saw Dave check each room methodically, door after door.
Another roar sounded, raising goosebumps on her skin, and she turned her gun toward the emergency exit.
“The stairs,” she called out as she broke into a run.
She swung through the door with barely a break in stride and entered a war zone. Two giant forms moved on the landing below — Ettin, goddammit, their tails crashing into the wall as they lumbered, like miniature Godzillas.
More crashing and shouts from below told her the battle had already moved to a different level. “Down!” she shouted, hoping Dave heard her, and holstered her gun to do something she’d hoped she’d never have to.
Vaulting over the banister, she had a dizzying view of a fall several stories deep, a well waiting to suck her down. She managed the jump, just barely, landing on the next flight below, almost spraining her ankle. She slipped a few steps, grabbed hold of the rail to stop her fall and hissed as her wrist twinged.
Get up, Ella.
A growl from behind her clinched the matter. She was on her feet and running down the steps, the heavy shadow of the giants behind her the best incentive ever. She leaped onto the next landing and spun, drawing her gun and firing. They were almost on top of her, the nauseating stench of rot washing over her.
Damn, she’d forgotten Ettin didn’t go down so easily. But they stopped and one of them roared so loudly the staircase trembled. Then it wavered and flickered.
Dave stood at the top of the stairs. He’d thrown a knife, finishing the fire demon off.
He was preparing another knife for a throw, and hoping he could handle it, hoping she could handle his questions later, she turned back to the melee farther down the stairs.
Another Ettin towered, cutting her view, but from the side she caught glimpse of a crowd gathered below, on the next landing — people pushing and shoving, trying to move away from the lumbering giant and yet not stampeding down the stairs as she’d have expected them to.
Weird. Looked like something — or someone — was keeping the Ettin from smashing those people to mush, and she had a good idea of who that might be.
Gritting her teeth, she holstered her gun and drew her knives. “Come to me, you bastard,” she muttered as she let one fly into the giant’s back and prepared the other.
The creature turned quick as lightning, and shouts went out as its tail lashed, breaking chunks out of the wall, followed by a scream.
She narrowed her eyes as the creature reached for her, aiming for the center of its chest, when it jerked to a halt and growled. A man had climbed its back and stuck a blade into the side of its corded neck, and it took her a moment to recognize Jefferson, his eyes wild, his face spattered with blood.
Then the moment was over. The Ettin flickered but didn’t go out, turning instead and smashing the offending little human into the wall. Jeff slid down, blinking dazedly.
Fuck.
Ella threw the knife and it thudded into the Ettin’s arm. Not where she’d wanted it to go, but the blade stuck, deep inside the rock-like flesh, and she waited, adrenaline pounding in her veins.
The creature finally stopped moving.
Yeah. You felt that, huh?
The shouts dropped to whispers as the giant started to lose solidity and Ella wondered what they saw — people battling an invisible foe? Battling each other?
The Ettin flickered and wavered, finally vanishing into nothing.
She stepped down, seeing pale faces all around, some dirtied with blood, and spotted two bodies on the landing. But there was one face she didn’t see. “Finn!”
“There were more Shades, looked like goblins, farther down the stairs,” Jeff said, climbing to his feet with a wince and wiping blood from his lip.
So that was why the people crowded there, not trying to move down, but the thought was lost in the renewed pounding in Ella’s head.
Goblins. Plural. Crap.
She nearly slipped in the pool of ichor on the steps, and when she brought a hand to her belt, she realized she’d left her knives where they’d fallen from the giant’s fading body. At least she had her gun.
She shoved through the clustered people, some of whom were sobbing. That was the only sound, she realized, heart in her mouth. No shouts, roars or growls came from below.
“Move aside,” she snapped as the crowd closed in front of her, “let me through. Move, dammit.”
She heard Dave call her name but didn’t turn. Someone was sitting on a step below, head propped on the wall, one leg stretched out. Ichor dripped down the stairs, its acrid stench filling the air. A blade glinted on the next landing.
Finn. He was there, he was alive! He had blood smeared over his face, his hands, his shirt.
She sat down, reaching to check if he was hurt — and faster than her eye could track, he caught her wrist in a crushing grip. His eyes snapped to her, chips of ice. He had blood in his hair; it fell in his face in wet strings.
“Finn.” She had expected this. Had to talk him down, bring him back from that cold place. “It’s me, Ella, okay? You’re all right.”
Finn’s gaze shifted to a spot over her shoulder and his brows drew together. He sat up, his grip tightening on her, forcing a strangled cry from her throat.
What the hell?
“What’s going on?” Dave asked from behind her.
Oh shit. She hadn’t counted on this. “Give us a minute, will you, Dave?”
“I’ll help you get him to the infirmary.” Dave went into a semi-crouch on the step and reached down for Finn.
Bad idea.
A second later Finn had a vice-like grip on Dave’s throat and was pulling him down, snarling in his face.
Hadn’t counted on this, either, dammit.
At least he’d released Ella’s wrist.
Dave was calmly tugging on Finn’s fingers with both hands, trying to dislodge them. How wasn’t he flailing about in panic?
Maybe he didn’t need to breathe.
“Finn, stop. Let go.” She grabbed his arm, attempted to shake it, but it was like trying to move a rock. So she touched his face instead, stroked his cheekbone. “Snap out of it. You can do it. Come on.”
Dave had stopped struggling, staring at them, dark brows lifting.
Finn’s gaze swung to hers, still hard and flat like a mirror, but he was at least paying
attention. He held Dave suspended over him, casually, seemingly without effort. A small crowd was gathering behind, looking down at them.
“He’s choking him,” someone called from the back. “Do something!”
“I’m trying,” Ella ground out, holding Finn’s gaze, trailing her fingers on his jaw. “Finn, can you hear me? Everything’s fine now. No danger, okay? Let Dave go.”
A faint flicker of recognition went through his grey eyes. He blinked, then turned toward Dave and blinked again. His arm began to shake. His fingers opened.
Dave straightened, and Ella couldn’t help noticing he wasn’t even out of breath. He tugged on the collar of his shirt and stood. “Infirmary,” he said.
Ella nodded numbly.
Chapter Four
Tricky
Jeff, not Dave, ended up being the one to help Finn to the infirmary. That was because Dave’s attempt to lift Finn to his feet was promptly met with a violent shove and a punch to the face he barely avoided.
What had the man expected anyway, after threatening everyone Finn held dear in this world and capturing his dragon?
So they left Dave barking orders right and left, trying to contain the chaos. Jeff had Finn’s arm slung over his shoulders, taking on most of his weight, leaving Ella to simply support Finn around the waist. Half-way to the infirmary it became obvious Finn’s dazedness was wearing off and he could walk on his own.
The infirmary door was open and a steady stream of people went in and out, carrying the wounded, and Finn dug in his heels.
“I’m fine,” he said with that stubborn set of his jaw Ella knew well.
“You’re covered in blood and this slimy sticky liquid,” Jeff said, his face hard.
“Ichor,” Ella said. “Well, infirmary’s packed anyway.”
And avoiding doctors might be a good idea when all it took was a moment of distraction and an orderly taking off Finn’s filthy bandana for something new to post on YouTube. Everyone working for the Bureau had signed an agreement of non-disclosure, but nobody knew they had an elf among them and you just never knew what people might do.
“I’ll just seat him in an office and check him over,” she said. “Maybe you should go get checked yourself, Jefferson. There’s an awful lot of blood on you, too.”
The distraction worked. Jeff looked down at himself and made a face. “I’m okay, I think, but I’ll go clean up in the restroom.”
She smiled, though something was niggling at her, setting her teeth on edge. Which was ridiculous. She trusted Jeff, would trust him with her life. He was one of her few friends at the Bureau and a good friend of Simon’s. A rock, always there to lend a shoulder for her to cry or an ear for her rants, to offer advice and make a joke to lighten her mood.
What the hell, Ella? He’d just saved people’s lives, probably Finn’s as well. Take a breath and relax.
She led a limping Finn into an empty office, found him a chair and drew another one close to sit and check him over.
“I’m okay,” Finn said, but she ignored him, wiping blood and ichor from his face, lifting the hem of his shirt to check for injuries, and he said nothing more, head bent, hands lax at his sides.
He was telling the truth for once, as she found out. He wasn’t hurt apart from some scratches and shallow cuts on his hands, although his skin was already reddening from the amount of ichor that had spilled on him, not to mention he looked dead on his feet.
She went and found some wet towels and helped him wipe the filth off. Then she pulled him up.
“Food,” she said, figuring it was past lunch time anyway, and when Finn didn’t protest, his stomach growling enthusiastically, she turned their steps toward the officers’ canteen.
They’d eaten there quite a few times. It was cheap and easy, though the food was more grease than protein. They selected what they wanted — she got fried eggs and a burrito while Finn chose a burger — and sat in a corner to refuel, when Ella’s cell phone rang.
Mike’s number.
“Ella,” he said, “is Finn with you?”
She froze, a forkful of eggs half-way to her mouth. “Yeah, why?”
“More noise from the Veil.”
Oh right. With the Veil tearing and the fire giants breaking through, it was no wonder. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s not really worse than is the norm lately, just...” He cleared his throat nervously. “I can make out words.”
“What?” She let her fork fall with a clank in her plate and sat up from her slouch. “What exactly?”
Finn put down his burger and shot her a questioning glance.
“Hard to make anything out at the moment, but there is one word that keeps repeating...”
“Spit it out, Mike.”
“Well, it sounds like isthelfun or isthelsin.” Mike hesitated. “Do you know what it is?”
Dammit. Isthelfinn, Finn’s real name. Was that the signal for the hunting season — a let’s-get-Finn party? “Yeah,” she said tiredly, “I know who it is. Keep me posted if you make out anything else, okay?”
She disconnected, raised her gaze to Finn and found him frowning at his plate. He looked distracted, and she wasn’t sure if it was a good or a bad thing.
Probably bad.
As if to confirm it, a young agent approached them with a spring in her step — the sort you lost after a couple of years working for the Bureau — and announced loud enough for everyone to hear that Mr. Holborn wanted them in his office, ASAP.
Yeah, the day sucked big time.
***
“Look, Dave, you can’t expect us to sit and file reports after this,” Ella muttered, standing at the door of Dave’s office. “People got killed, for Chrissakes. We need to go home and change before the ichor eats through our skin and before stray dogs wander in your office thinking it’s the butcher’s.”
“Very funny,” Dave said drily. “The main issue here is why the Veil tore. Huh, Finn?”
Finn leaned on the doorjamb, arms folded over his chest, blood encrusted under his blunt fingernails and in the whorls of his fair skin. He had a duffel bag at his feet, which he’d retrieved from the mostly totaled armory, and glared at Dave under lowered lashes.
“Dave...” Ella started, but her boss raised a hand.
“Just come inside and close the door, will you? We should’ve had this discussion much earlier.”
Ella didn’t move. It wasn’t as if she wanted to have that discussion — but Dave huffed, brushed past them and slammed the door shut, jostling Finn who staggered inside.
“Now.” Dave went to lean against his desk, facing them. “Where were we?”
“Nowhere,” Ella snapped. “You wanna discuss? Discuss how you threatened us at the airstrip while we were trying to get the dragon to collaborate and essentially do your bidding. Discuss how you’ve somehow bugged Finn so you can hear all our conversations. Are you getting off hearing us having sex? Do robots masturbate?”
Dave’s face paled. “What the fuck are you talking about? I bugged Finn? Prove it.”
Yeah, that was exactly the problem, right there. “How can I find your goddamn Dark Elven tech? It’s not like I’d even recognize it if I saw it, is it?”
“And you do realize you sound crazy, right?” Dave lifted a brow. “What did you do, pass a metal detector over your partner?”
Ella shook her head, anger heating her neck because that was exactly what she’d done, with no results. Damn, she’d already decided not to accuse Dave of this, since she had no evidence, and yet...
Could it be Dave was telling the truth? Were the indications circumstantial, the words he’d repeated a coincidence?
“So what happened today, Finn?” Dave nodded at the silent elf. “Got distracted and let the Veil rip right in your face? Or are you getting weaker instead of stronger?”
A muscle leaped in Finn’s jaw. “Got distracted,” he pushed through clenched teeth.
“Is that so?” Dave gripped the edge of his desk. “Let�
�s cut the crap, okay? You’re weak. Your bond with the dragon weakens you. Your connection to Ella isn’t working quite right. And you look sick. What’s wrong with you?”
“Fuck you,” Finn said, his voice dangerously quiet.
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
Finn pushed off the wall, his hands curling into fists, his grey eyes flashing. “Why should I?”
“Maybe I can help.”
Finn took another step and hissed, grabbing the back of a chair to keep his balance. “Why would I trust a single word you say, Duerg?”
Ella frowned. There did seem to exist a correlation between the pain and the Veil, getting worse when the Veil tore or Gates opened. Not that she was going to ask Dave what it might be.
“Still having trouble with the leg?” Dave asked.
“Back off.” Finn gritted his teeth but otherwise didn’t move, gripping the chair for support.
“We don’t trust you, Dave, get it?” Ella turned her back to him, heading for the door. “You’ve made your position perfectly clear at the airstrip and had Finn beaten. See the bruise on his face? We’re not buddies, so leave it.”
“What I said back there,” Dave said, “shouldn’t have fooled you.”
Ella stopped, glanced at him over her shoulder. “The hell you mean?”
“I had to say it,” Dave said. “Those men who were with me belong to the Organization, and they only agreed to spare your life if you were under my complete control. Your little dragon-riding stunt almost blew your chances of survival. Those men will report to the Council about what they saw.”
Holy shit. Could it be true?
“I don’t believe you,” Finn ground out, lifting his face. He had lines of pain around his mouth.
“We all answer to someone,” Dave said evenly. “I answer to the Council of the Organization. I told you so before.”
Dammit, why did it all have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t Dave be your run-of-the-mill, mindlessly evil baddie?
Boreal and John Grey Season 2 Page 18