Boreal and John Grey Season 2

by Thoma, Chrystalla

  “Sounds convenient,” Ella muttered.

  Dave grunted. “You don’t want to believe it, fine. What you have to believe is that Finn’s magic needs to become stronger. These creatures that entered through the Veil today...” His hold on the table edge turned white-knuckled. “The seal on Musspelheim, the spell that kept it isolated from the other worlds, has been broken, releasing the Ettin. If more seals break, even more dangerous foes will be released — foes who can defeat you and pull Finn back across the Veil, imprisoning him; unless the breaking of the seal kills him first.”

  Fuck.

  Finn wasn’t looking at Dave, his head down, his breathing rasping.

  So Dave turned to Ella. “He was getting stronger. He’s kept the Veil strong for weeks now, and hasn’t let any Gates open. But what happened today shows that something’s gone wrong. You said you shared his dreams, stabilized his magic. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Ella said, shoving her hands in her pockets in case they shook. “Everything’s the same.”

  Dave slammed his hand down on the desk, the crash startling a yelp from Ella and a flinch from Finn. “I’m trying to help, damn you.”

  Huh. Looked like Finn wasn’t the only one breaking stuff when frustrated.

  “We don’t know if Finn’s getting weaker or if the creatures across the Veil are getting stronger,” she tried.

  “John Grey’s power is legendary,” Dave said slowly, enunciating every word. “Do you understand? He shouldn’t have trouble fighting back.”

  Oh, all right, enough. “Look, I have a headache.” The moment she said it, right on cue, her head started pounding. “Finn’s tired and his leg’s bothering him. We’ll talk about this another day, okay? Try to figure it out.”

  Dave shrugged. “Whatever. Time’s running out. I just hope you know it.”

  Finn’s eyes blazed when he straightened, meeting Dave’s gaze. Then he turned to go, limping so badly Ella knew she’d be calling the physiotherapist as soon as they were out.

  But she paused before following Finn. “Dave, how long has Jefferson worked here?”

  “Jeff Somesby? Of the weaponry?

  “That’s the one.”

  “A few years. At least six. Why?”

  Ella shook her head. Something still bothered her, like a fly buzzing in her thoughts. She could see Jeff fighting the Ettin, his knife flashing. She’d known, if vaguely, that Jeff was a veteran of some war or other. After all, he’d recognized Finn as a fellow soul before Ella had any inkling, and it took one to know one, right?

  So no big surprise there. But there was this other thing...

  “Can Jefferson see Shades?” It shouldn’t come as a shock, not in the Bureau. Still...

  “A voyant? Jeff?” Dave scowled. “No, of course not. Why?”

  “Because he fought a Shade.”

  “Are you sure?”

  In other words, do you trust what your eyes saw in a moment of panic? Do you trust your mind and memory?

  Tricky things, memories.

  Ella thought about it. In a world where nobody was who you thought they were, where your life was a toss of a coin and the rules of the game changed constantly, she wasn’t even sure she was sane half of the time.

  “No, Dave,” she said, “I’m not sure.”

  About anything.

  ***

  As it turned out, they never headed home. As they crossed the noisy lobby of the Bureau, Finn grabbed her hand and turned her around, then leaned over her until his fine hair tickled her cheek, making her shiver.

  He whispered in her ear, “The nest.”

  The dragon nest.

  Right.

  “You got what you needed?” Before the Shades attacked the weaponry? Before Jefferson showed a side of himself Ella had never suspected and Dave saw with his own eyes you can’t keep the Veil from tearing anymore?

  He pulled back and nodded, patting the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. She burned to know what he’d thought necessary.

  Tamping down on her curiosity, she led the way outside. The weather had changed from weak sunlight to overcast skies and a cold drizzle. Finn’s limp was so bad it made her wince, but he didn’t even seem to notice it, his face set in determined lines, his expression pensive.

  They set off in her car toward the seaside, and cleaned up as best they could with a bottle of water she kept under her seat and a box of tissues.

  Then she drove toward the old abandoned harbor. After an earthquake and geological uplift some twenty years back, that caused the harbor to become too shallow, it was decided that a big, modern port was in order. So the new port was built and the old harbor was left to the mercy of the elements, eventually becoming the territory of those left adrift in life — homeless, drug-addicts, prostitutes, illegal immigrants and anyone else falling through the cracks.

  Ella knew the place. There had been a Shade attack a year ago. Back then she’d also been volunteering with the Salvation Army to help the homeless, at least through the winter months. It was Simon’s idea and she’d tagged along, although she wasn’t in the least bit religious. Come to think of it, neither was Simon.

  Double-faced son of a bitch. If only she’d known all he’d been hiding...

  Finn was staring out the window as they drove down the exposed wharf with its dilapidated buildings — shops with broken fronts, restaurants with their doors and windows gaping open, flea-ridden dogs and cats scratching themselves on the threshold, rusty skips full of trash. The low wall keeping the sea at bay had crumbled to bits and waves crashed over the pier occasionally, dousing the car.

  Ella slowed, trying to remember the images the dragon’s mind had flashed at her. A young woman came out of a dark doorway and beckoned, one hip jutting to the side. Ella could see the crimson of her lipstick as they drove away — red like blood.

  There was a ship, Ella recalled. A large, red ship, tilted slightly to one side. Abandoned, too, then. And a large warehouse. Where could it be?

  “Ella!” Finn hissed and she swerved, coming too close to the crumbling wall and the sea.

  Shit.

  “Maybe you should drive,” she said, stopping. “Just for a while, until I find the place.”

  Finn’s eyes narrowed on her, as if he were suspecting a trick. When she got out of the car and went around to open his door, he grinned.

  “Go slow, okay?” she warned while waiting for him to get out, wincing in sympathy when he grimaced and leaned on the car door. “Promise?”

  “Promise.”

  The delight on his face was worth it, and anyway there were no red lights here to run. Who knew Finn liked driving so much?

  Or was it the speed?

  She was having second thoughts as she sat shotgun and Finn took the wheel, but too late. Breathe in and out, Ella.

  She tried to focus on their surroundings as Finn put the car into first gear — yeah, her car was an automatic only in its dreams — and set off. He drove okay, not that she remembered any lurching and sputtering of the engine last time he’d driven, but she’d obviously been pretty much out of it at the time with the Ettin’s paralyzing poison running in her veins.

  He also drove slowly, as she’d requested, and a smile lingered on his lips, faint but genuine. Beautiful. Damn distracting.

  Focus, Ella.

  She forced her gaze back outside, to the crumbling storefronts. Warehouses came into view, old concrete block buildings with shattered windows, shut with wooden planks and covered in graffiti. The doors were barred. Could there be a dragon nest inside?

  She tried closing her eyes to better recall the flashing images from the dragon’s mind — and new images flashed.

  The red ship, listing to one side. A warehouse nearby. The sea heaving, water splashing the pier. The ship again, rocking slightly, metal groaning. A hole in the deck.

  She blinked. The nest wasn’t in the warehouse.

  “Are you okay?” Finn asked.

  “Look for the red ship,�
�� she said, and winced, because more images flashed behind her lids — different ones, blurred impressions of broken crates and barrels and white scaly skin, metal walls and a pinpoint of light.

  The tires scritched and skidded on the wet concrete. Ella snapped her eyes open and found a wall coming at them. “Watch out!”

  Finn cursed, blinking dazed eyes, and braked.

  The car spun ninety degrees and scraped lightly on the wall, surely leaving off paint from the door on Finn’s side.

  Ella closed her gaping mouth. Did the bond work with the baby dragons, too? And why the hell was there a wall blocking the street? Meanwhile, the drizzle was turning into rain, obscuring what lay ahead.

  Finn glared at the wall, gripping the wheel. He looked unhurt, which was the main thing, but still looked stunned. He’d seen the images, too. No wonder they’d almost crashed.

  Dammit.

  “Looks like we continue on foot.” She stepped outside, inhaling the sea air, fishy and heavy with humidity. A run-down metal gate loomed on one side, and Ella hoped there was a way through.

  Finn finally let go of the wheel, grabbed the duffel from the back seat and dragged himself over the passenger seat to get out. The bruise on his jaw was fading to sickly yellow and brown, and the bandana had slipped down over his eyes, letting his ears poke out.

  She reached up to adjust it as he straightened. It looked odd with his shorter hair; the hippy vibe was gone.

  Still cute, though.

  She kissed him on the cheek, which earned her a small smile, and locked the car, hoping it would still be in one piece when they returned.

  Finn set the pace, hurrying to the gate and finding a hole in the chainlink fence to crawl through. In the driving rain, it was all Ella could do to rush after him, trying not to lose him from her sight. Her jacket snagged on the chainlink and it tore as she passed to the other side.

  It was one of those days.

  Finn was limping toward the bulk of a tall warehouse and Ella could just make out the mass of a ship in the water. This was the place.

  “Hey, you,” someone called from the shadows of what looked like a ticket booth. “Better not go near that ship.”

  “Why not?” She slowed, trying to see the person, but could only make out a skeletal silhouette and the glowing embers of a cigarette.

  “There’s something inside that ship. And sometimes a white nightmare comes flying. You must believe me.” He coughed. “I’m not on drugs anymore, I cut that crap.”

  Ella nodded and hurried on, catching up with Finn as he neared the ghostly form of the cargo ship. There was a low whispering in her mind; no words, just feelings — fear, hunger, confusion.

  Finn headed to a metal ladder nailed to the side of the ship and started to climb. The ship rocked slightly on the high tide as she followed him up, praying her hands and feet wouldn’t slip on the wet metal. The rain still pelted down, shrouding everything in a blurry curtain of water.

  Finn jumped onto the lopsided deck, his leg nearly giving out under him. He slid and fetched up against one of the crumpling dinghies. The rain plastered his hair on his face and water ran down his cheeks.

  Ella jumped on board, landing in a crouch. She glanced around. The deck was empty, the rain drumming around her.

  Then came a hissing noise, though she couldn’t tell from where. Was that the baby dragons?

  Finn straightened and limped to the broken hatch of the cargo hold. A hole, big enough for a horse to go through gaped in its middle — large enough for a dragon? Or had she simply let the eggs drop inside?

  A rich organic smell drifted from the ship’s innards, like guano — crap and ammonia — and a faint odor of burnt plastic.

  Finn let the duffel down, then crouched and peered into the murky depths. A scratching noise came from below.

  “And now?” Ella whispered, hunkering down. A subtle stench of rot rose from the hold and she held her breath, her stomach twisting.

  Finn didn’t move. Brightness rose from his hair like a cloud, painting a halo around his face. What was he waiting for?

  A sudden flame burst through the darkness, spearing up toward them. Finn grabbed Ella’s shoulder and shoved her back, still in a deep crouch.

  Looked like they’d just found the dragonets. So they breathed fire like their mama. How cute.

  Finn shook her lightly. Oh right — not the time to zone out, no matter how weird the situation. He opened the duffel bag and drew out a weird machine gun with a small tank — no, wait. A propane flamethrower.

  He shoved it into her hands and she curled her fingers around it; a reflex action.

  “What’s this for?”

  “Don’t aim at them,” Finn said. “It’s to make them believe you’re one of them.”

  One of them...

  What, a dragon? She opened her mouth to say just how ass-crazy this sounded, but before she could utter a single word, Finn stood and took a deep breath.

  Then he dropped though the hatch into the hold, right in the middle of the nest.

  Damn!

  Chapter Five

  Sunlight

  “Finn!” Ella’s voice echoed. Still hanging on top of the hatch, she clutched the flamethrower to her side and struggled to see something in the dark. How deep was the hold? Wouldn’t she break a leg if she fell badly? Wouldn’t she land on top of an explosive little dragon? What if it threw a tantrum? “Finn, are you okay?”

  When only silence answered her, she gritted her teeth and brought the propane torch forward. Well, Finn had said to use it — and she needed light.

  With a flick of her thumb, she triggered the fuel release, pumping the gas, and then pulled the ignition trigger, lighting the spark.

  Fire whooshed into the hold, tearing the blackness — showing her a collection of sparkling white shapes and a person that had to be Finn curled in their midst.

  Ella turned off the fire. It was a long way down, easily twenty feet, but Finn sat smack in the center of the nest. Shit. She’d jump, no question about it, and chew Finn out over it later. If she survived.

  But she’d also seen a length of rope dangling on one side, probably from a broken winch. It didn’t seem to reach the bottom, but it was something. A lucky break, could that be?

  Slipping her arms into the straps of the flamethrower, wearing it like a backpack, she slid her legs into the opening and tried to picture where she’d seen the small dragons and Finn. Then she gripped the rope and dropped into the hold in the hopes of landing next to them — not too close, not too far.

  She’d trained for all sorts of situations. The Shades weren’t predictable at best; usually they were downright crazy bastards. She’d jumped into the darkness before, but flames criss-crossing space while sliding down a rope would certainly cast the experience in a new light.

  The air was dry inside the hold and it was freaking cold like a giant freezer. Halfway down, the rope ended. She let go and she was free-falling, trying to keep her body straight. She thumped down and rolled as she’d been taught, to minimize the impact on her joints, though a sharp pain shot up her ankle. Ah well, a minor sprain was the least of her worries right now.

  Coming up on one knee, she unslung the flame torch and swung it around, letting out a short burst of flame.

  She blinked as the fire died out, not sure she’d seen right. Finn held the horned crest of a small dragon in each hand, and a third dragonet, white as snow, curled at his feet, its small wings spread. Like white lizards in appearance, they were roughly the size of bull terriers with long tails. A warped nativity scene, she thought, with a haloed angel and an entourage of cherubs — only the angel’s eyes held a hard glint and the cherubs were fanged little demons.

  With only a slight shudder — because she was a badass agent, duh — she approached the strange scene, letting out one more blast of fire.

  “Stay back,” Finn said. He was patting the creatures’ muzzles — no, feeding them. “Wait.”

  Where had he gotten th
e meat strips he was giving them? He’d really prepared for this — probably sneaked into the canteen kitchen and stolen bacon from the breakfast trays.

  She lowered the thrower. Finn glowed enough to illuminate the dragonets and the assortment of broken crates and barrels below and around them — things she’d seen in the images she’d received from them.

  Interesting. The little creatures weren’t smaller versions of their mother. They were snake-like with stubby legs and large heads, their horns small and rounded. Their teeth looked razor-sharp where they snatched the meat from Finn’s hands.

  Finn’s glow unnerved her. It meant he was stressed or afraid — but he seemed to have the situation under control, go figure, not even needing the flamethrower to calm down the baby dragons, so what had gotten his briefs in a twist?

  That was when she realized his gaze was glued to a spot behind her. She turned and let out a burst of flame to see better.

  A body. It sprawled on top of a piece of broken machinery — the winch? A slender body, clad in what looked like silver filigree, long pale hair hanging like a curtain to the side, the head half-covered by a metal helmet.

  The dragon’s rider.

  The hissing and growling from behind her rose in volume and she turned the flame torch, revealing the three little dragons advancing on her.

  Finn shading his eyes. “More fire,” he said, and she reached for the fuel release trigger, letting out more gas.

  A tongue of flame gushed forward, and the dragonets hissed and stopped, stomping their clawed paws, shaking their lizard heads. Finn limped between them to reach her side as the flame died.

  They turned toward the corpse, Finn so bright he cast pale light around them.

  “Why are you shining?” she whispered, unable to tear her gaze from the silver-encased body in front of them.

  “Headache,” he rasped.

  Magic in the Veil. Did that mean another spell was about to break? Best thing would be to take what they’d come to find and get the hell out of there.