Author: Chrystalla Thoma
Date: 2013-06-02 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Urban Fantasy; Fantasy; Collections
Description: Dangerous Shades, magical portals, sexy elves and a spunky heroine. Welcome to Ella's world. This is the complete First Season of the series Boreal and John Grey, books 1-5 (The Encounter, The Gate, The Dragon, The Dream and The Truth. Centuries ago, they nearly conquered humankind. But their Gate to our world closed, leaving them out. Now the elves have found a way back. Ella Benson, agent of the Paranormal Bureau, fights the Shades when they cross into our world, keeping everyone safe. But increasingly dangerous creatures are slipping into her city, her work partner has just gone missing, an

Boreal and John Grey

Complete Season One

Centuries ago, they nearly conquered humankind. But their Gate to our world was closed, and they were defeated. Now the elves have found a way to open it, and they’re back.

Table of Contents

Episode 1: The Encounter

Episode 2: The Gate

Episode 3: The Dragon

Episode 4: The Dream

Episode 5: The Truth

Author’s Note

Boreal and John Grey (Complete Season One) © Copyright 2013 by Chrystalla Thoma

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, events, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Cover design by Chrystalla Thoma and Nathalie Hamidi

Acknowledgments

Heartfelt thanks to Harlow Fallon,
Claire Bugler Hewitt, Randall Bird, Krista D. Ball, J.A. Beard and Arlene Webb for beta reading (in part or entirety) Boreal and John Grey.

Special thanks to authors Tim Stevens and J.A. Beard for their help with questions about guns, gunshot wounds and the military.

Also, a big thank you to all the people in my two critique groups for their constant support and great suggestions. Any errors in the story are of course solely mine.

Author’s note:

At the beginning of each episode, there is a short text or poem. Certain lines of those texts and poems were borrowed from the Younger Edda, a medieval Icelandic saga which you can find online on the Gutenberg Project site.

Norse words used in the text:

Dokkaelfar: Dark elves

Ljosaelfar: Light elves

Duergar: dwarves

Aelfr-Aelfar: elf-elves
blod: blood
bein: bone

Vaettir: shades

Adramar: name of the elven queen
drengr: warrior
visi: commander
daudr: death
sar: leader
faen: devil
lydr: leaders
mogr: boy
fadhir: father
aesir: gods

The Encounter

Episode 1

Nine worlds hang on the divine tree, whose roots feed in the river of Grey. The Gates between the worlds are gone. The guardians keep watch, honing their blades and biding their time. The day of reckoning will come. Beware of John Grey.

Chapter One

Vaettir

Although it was early September, the cold bit to the bone and the air smelled like snow. Snow and piss and trash. The alley stretched ahead, empty of life and strewn with crushed cans and paper.

Ella didn’t move. Faint humming filled her ears, and clicking noises sounded. The clouds above shifted, though no wind blew. The Veil was thinning. Shades would be lurking, waiting to pounce. In the past, faint, frail faeries came through; these had recently turned into more malevolent creatures — kobolds and goblins with a taste for blood.

Nothing moved. Her cheeks ached with the cold. Swearing under her breath, she shifted her hand on the grip of her gun. She wore her blouse inside out for protection and the patterned letters on the front scraped against her skin and itched. The charms hanging around her neck chimed softly as she turned to check behind her and she clapped a hand over them, the iron ice-cold against her palm. A strand of dark hair fell in her eyes; she blew it off her face.

Night was falling, limiting her vision, and she just wished she knew where the hell Simon, her partner, was. He was supposed to meet her, but there was no sign of him.

No sign of the caller who’d reported being pursued by a Shade, either, and she couldn’t just shout ‘Secret Paranormal Investigation Team of one here to save you’, could she? Not with the Shade lying in waiting. Poor fellow had either escaped or found death. Sooner or later she’d know which it was.

The air thickened, growing opaque with dark fog, and she clasped her cold iron charm against her chest. She drew a deep breath and caught a whiff of blood.

A shift behind her, a current stirring the trash, and three Shades came out of the mist, running at her, claws extended.

Ella spun and slashed with her twin knives, the symbols on them blazing. She caught one Shade under the chin and cut upward, drew the other into the creature’s belly. The Kobold shrieked, clawing at its throat with sharp-nailed fingers, then fizzled and faded, returning to the grey space between the worlds — the river of Grey, where twisted ghosts and shadow creatures nobody knew much about wandered.

Quiet settled around her. She turned in a circle, knives pointing down. They dripped black ichor that burned holes where it dripped into the ground.

Where were the other two Shades? And where had all these come from? The Veil rarely thinned so much as to admit more than one at a time.

A swish in the air behind her and she dropped to the asphalt, rolling away, coming to a crouch. The other two Kobolds leered at her, spindly legs and ugly feet bare to the icy wind that now tore through the city. She rose slowly.

Dave would love this new development. One more thing to worry about, on top of the increased Shade aggressiveness they’d observed over the past days.

Ella barely had time to duck when the Shades attacked, each from either side. She slashed at one and backed away. Simon, damn you, hurry up! Her partner was so going to hear about this. He never stood her up, so what was going on?

No time for speculation. Her boots skidding on loose gravel, she raced toward a construction site. It stood silent in the night, pillars and scaffolds rising like ruins of some ancient temple, silvered by moonlight. She dug her fingers into the chain link fence and climbed up, swung a leg over and dropped on the other side. She ran lightly between pits and pieces of machinery, looking for a good spot to make her stand.

Too late she caught the glint of yellow eyes peering at her from behind a half-built wall. Backing away on broken pieces of concrete and planks, she tried to wrap her mind around this. More Shades? Maybe she should call Dave right now, ask for extraction ASAP.

But she never got the chance. The goblin, because that’s what it was, stepped from behind the wall, massive and horned, drooling silver saliva. The Kobolds snickered and chittered, a series of clicks and sighs that chilled her spine. Jesus, how many were there?

She drew her phone, keeping the knife in her other hand, and pressed one, the speed-dial for a distress call.

Then the goblin flew at her, knocked the phone out of her hand and slammed her down to the floor. Her head hit the concrete and the world blacked out for a moment. As her senses returned, the dark fading, she saw the goblin tower over her. She barely registered the burn of something sharp pinching her side, too shocked to feel much of anything. She patted the concrete at her side, seeking her knife in the rubble, then froze when the goblin drew back a massive fist and gave a grin full of sharp teeth.

Somewhere behind her, the kobolds clicked and clapped.

No, she couldn’t end this way. Sitting up, she scraped her fingers along the floor, found something long and cold — a rod? — and swung at the creature’s legs. It was like hitting a brick wall. The goblin merely sniffed, its muzzle wrinkling, then swatted the rod aside. It left her hand and skittered along the floor.

Since when didn’t the Shades flinch at the touch of steel?

The goblin crouched down and drew its huge fist back. Time slowed. She saw it coming at her like a dark wave, about to smash her face. Damn you, Simon. If I die here, I’ll haunt you forever.

The fist stopped an inch from her face. The goblin groaned. Its yellow eyes widened, the lumbering body shuddered and pitched sideways.

Ella blinked up at the scaffolds and beams, then sat up slowly, her head spinning. Her knife lay a few feet away. She reached for it, her other hand going to her gun, still in its hip holster.

The kobolds advanced over the half-built wall, clawed hands extended, and she cocked the gun, taking aim.

Something pale streaked her vision and she blinked. Hallucinations? She must have hit her head harder than she thought. Because a man was there, blades flashing in the moonlight. He fell on the kobolds, twirling and delivering heavy blows, his blond hair flying under a green bandana. Like a hurricane, he pivoted and kicked, then cut and stabbed, until the Shades fell back, raising spindly hands to cover their faces.

Okay, what the hell?

The man didn’t stop. He spun closer to the kobolds, hacking at them with his blades — bowie knives, long and wicked, covered in symbols — marking one on the arm. The kobold shrieked and flickered in and out of existence. The other one cowered and whimpered. Ella narrowed her eyes. Why did they fear his knives but not hers? The blades were dark. Iron?

A bellow from the left reminded her the goblin was still present. Crap. Her hand felt too heavy, her head too light, filled with sharp pebbles that bounced inside her skull. The goblin pushed itself upright and turned to her.

“Oh no, you don’t,” she whispered and took aim. She fired one, two, three bullets into its chest. The goblin staggered back but didn’t fall. Cursing, she reversed her grip on the knife and threw it at the creature’s head. It hit it smack in the forehead.

The goblin fell and fizzled, its limbs melting away, its torso and head going last, a grizzly Cheshire cat grin on its face — finally returning to the place behind the Veil.

Ella blinked at the empty spot the goblin had occupied, then turned to see the man dispatch the last kobold. Suddenly there was ringing quiet, punctuated by the guy’s hissing breaths. He looked up.

“Are you okay?” he asked. He had a strange accent, a way of drawing out the vowels. Russian, perhaps. He was handsome in a lean and austere sort of way — thin face, high cheekbones, a small mouth, and hooded ice-blue eyes. His chest rose and fell, stretching the black material of his dirty white t-shirt. He wore a green bandana under which his ash-blond hair fluttered down to his shoulders. “Hey, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m fine.” To prove it, she clicked the safety of her gun on and stood, wobbling only a little. “Thank you. You’re...?”

“You should get out of here. More Vaettir may arrive.”

“Vaettir? You mean Shades?” That had sounded Nordic. Maybe not Russian then.

He nodded, eyes darting around the place, knives held loosely at his sides, ichor dripping steadily to the floor. Silvery designs flashed on his bare forearms — tattoos?
Or paint?

“Yes, Shades.” He walked to the half-finished wall and checked behind it, every movement graceful like a panther’s.

Ella shook her head dazedly. What was wrong with her? “I’m Ella, working for the Investigations Bureau.” She didn’t normally recruit people, but he saw Shades, and the way he fought ... “Finding someone with your abilities is rare and we could really use another... Wait!” He was backing away and she didn’t even know his name. She took a step toward him as the police sirens sounded in the distance. “Don’t go!”

But he spun away, ran to the fence and vaulted over it with an ease that had her gaping. What was he, an acrobat? Then he was gone, vanishing in the shadows of the street outside, leaving her to deal with Dave.

With a heart-felt sigh, she turned to face her squad leader.

***

“Why isn’t Simon with you?” Dave rolled his car window down and leaned out to look past her at the empty construction site.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Well, she’d determined nothing bled and nothing was broken. She’d be one giant bruise come tomorrow, but she’d live.

Dave ignored the jab. “Simon’s always been reliable.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, well...”

“Jump in, I need to talk to you.”

“I’m tired, Dave. Can’t we do this tomorrow?”

“I’m here now. George will drive your car back.”

She glanced over where George stood. He waved at her, a little too cheerfully. Maybe it was because he didn’t have to ride back with Dave. Then again he hadn’t just faced a battalion of Shades and barely pulled through. He had every right to be in good spirits.

“Fine.” She threw George her key and climbed into Dave’s car, gritting her teeth as pain stabbed her back. Her knee creaked when she folded her long legs under the dashboard.

Before she had a chance to buckle in, Dave turned the car around and they were rolling through the lit streets of the commercial district. Many shops were still open and their signs blinked rhythmically in neon colors. Customers slipped in and out, plastic bags clutched in their hands, children crying for candy and toys. Normal people, blissfully unaware of the other side.

“Did you see the caller?” Dave asked. He held the wheel hard, as if he feared it might escape.

“No.”

They usually didn’t. Callers weren’t stupid enough to stick around. If they escaped the Shades, they never looked back.

They drove east, took the tunnel. Graffiti-covered walls streaked by. A guy stood by an emergency exit, his back to them, holding a can of spray. A spiral decorated the back of his black jacket. Ella craned her neck as they sped by.

“What’s the matter?” Dave asked.

“Nothing.” She straightened, frowning. The spiral reminded her of something — images floating in her memory, intermittent flashes of dark and light, a cruel face, a white hand... A nightmare?

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Dave said. “Something I should know?”

“Just haven’t been sleeping too well.”

Dave harrumphed. His cheeks were grey with stubble and he had dark bags under his eyes. He probably wasn’t sleeping too well, either. “So tell me about tonight.”

“God knows how many kobolds, one huge fucking goblin. Loads of fun.” Exhaustion made her snappy, and her limbs felt like they weighed a ton. If she wasn’t pumped full of adrenaline, she’d probably be dozing on the soft leather cushions of Dave’s car. “What’s going on? A month ago we bought a round of drinks when we as much as glimpsed a kobold, let alone a goblin. Most Shades came through half-formed and sickly, and now I get the whole rugby team in one night?”

“I know,” Dave said darkly. “Can’t buy enough rounds for that one, can you?” He shot her a sideways glance. “Joseph spotted a group of them over at Dreambay Wharf, eating something that looked human.”

Ella stiffened. “That’s new.” God. If tonight had turned out differently, she might have been Shade fodder too. “Hey, Dave? My knives and bullets didn’t seem to harm them much tonight.”

Dave hummed a little tune. He did that when he was stressed. “Steel used to stop them.”

“Well, not anymore. I need an alloy higher in iron. Or maybe pure iron.”

“In this weather? It’ll last a week, tops, before it rusts and falls apart.”

“Who cares? You didn’t see them. I...” Ella bit her lip. “I was lucky.” She hesitated to talk about the strange man, the way he’d fought, how he’d saved her in the nick of time. “Do you know of any independent hunters?”

“Here in town?”

She shrugged. Her right shoulder twinged, and sparks of pain ran from her hip to her knee. She’d need to wear a knee band again, dammit, and she’d managed without one for two months. A new record. She’d have a hell of a bruise where she’d hit the floor, too, and her side burned.

“Not that I know of. Why?”

She shook her head. “Nothing.”

The car turned into her street. “Get some rest.” Dave stopped at the entrance of her building and tapped his fingers on the wheel. “We’ll see about the weapons.”

“Right. And if you talk to Simon,” she said, getting out, “send him my fucking love.”

“It’s not funny,” Dave said. “Standing up a partner is unacceptable. I’ll have a long talk with him.”

“You do that.” She closed the car door and headed to her building. Damn, she was tired and every inch of her body ached. She had to clean her knives before the ichor ate the blade away, but the thought of sitting with a rag, buffing away, was enough to make her cringe. Her eyelids drooped.

She took the stairs out of habit and half-way up she wished she hadn’t. The key gave her trouble, and she fought with the lock until the door finally opened with a whine.

A pair of small yellow eyes appeared in the gloom, and she went for her gun before her brain connected. Her hand dropped to her side. “Dammit, kitty.”

Miss Meow stared at her, tail standing up, ears flattened, then jerked back when Ella finally entered.

“It’s just me, Missy.” She bent down to stroke the cat’s head and found empty air. Miss Meow trotted off to the kitchen to check if her bowl had miraculously filled with food.

Ella sighed. Typical homecoming. Maybe she should work on getting some human friends, maybe a boyfriend... Someone to open the door for her, have dinner cooked or at least some take away. Someone who’d miss her if she didn’t return.

Boy, talk about depressing thoughts. The fist of the goblin coming at her had probably shocked her more than she cared to admit to herself. Near death experiences tended to do that to you.

Dropping on her couch, she bent over to remove her boots and took a deep, calming breath. This evening had sucked big time, although the image of the stranger fighting, moving like a dancer, had been a nice highlight. And not only that.

She owed him her life. And she didn’t even know his name.

Shaking her head, she pulled off the boots, dropped them to the floor and went in search of a drink. Almost nothing left in her cupboards, but she found a bottle of Frangelico, sweet almond liqueur, and damn if it wasn’t almost empty. She didn’t even bother looking for food in her fridge; nothing there, at least nothing that hadn’t come back as a zombie. It was time to go shopping. She made a face and sighed.

Snagging the bottle, she settled back on the couch, propping her socked feet on the scratched coffee table. She took a swig and closed her eyes, smiling when Missy jumped on her legs and curled up, purring. “Hey, kitty. You won’t believe what happened today. I barely made it out alive...”

And that was her last memory until her phone rang the next morning.

***

“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” Ella wedged her phone between shoulder and cheek as she worked herself out of her pants. She reeked of sour sweat and bitter ichor, and she was covered from head to toe in dust from the construction site. No way was she going into HQ like that. “Have you checked his apartment? Simon tends to oversleep when he’s had a few too many.”

“He’s gone, Ella,” Dave’s voice rumbled from the other end. He sounded tired. “We’ve looked everywhere. His girlfriend doesn’t know—”

“He’s got a girlfriend? Since when?” She managed to pull off her tee and her bra without dropping the phone, but she stumbled over her sneakers. “Damn.” She limped to the shower. Where ichor had touched her, on her hands, arms and neck, the skin had blistered and reddened. It hurt like a bitch.

“He’s nowhere. Just vanished.”

Ella frowned as she turned on the tap, waiting for the water to run hot. “Maybe some family business or some such shit came up and he had to leave suddenly.” Which sounded implausible even to her own ears. Simon’s only family was his uncle, Mr. Greary, at the elderly home. She’d know if he had more relatives — right? If she had one friend and one friend only, that was Simon. He slept over sometimes, even had a pair of sweatpants and t-shirts in her closet. He didn’t keep secrets from her.

Right. Like she knew he had a girlfriend.

“Listen, Dave, I’ll be in before nine, okay?” Missy meowed from the door and she sighed. “Make it after nine. Then you can tell me everything you got.”

Dave grunted and hung up.

Where the hell was Simon? She called him, half expecting to hear his sleepy voice answering. After fifteen rings, she flipped the phone closed.

Shit.

She stood under the hot spray and scrubbed herself with her generic soap, something vaguely floral and chemical, watching the water run black down the drain. Some of it was dust, some ichor. The Grey tainted whatever it touched. Her clothes were holed and eaten. She’d need to buy new ones.

She wanted a raise. And to punch Simon, but that would have to wait.

Drying herself roughly with a towel, she thought again of the strange man. He knew how to fight. A professional hunter of Shades? Few did this on their own, mostly those who’d been caught in the mess, like most voyants. What to most people looked like a gathering darkness and wind, malfunctioning appliances and strange noises, to a voyant it showed its true form — twisted creatures caught between dimensions. What if the man had suffered from them and decided to strike back?

Like you did? She pulled on clean jeans and a red t-shirt with a band logo and pulled on thick socks and boots. It was possible, she supposed. Or else he worked for someone else with a grudge against the Shades.

Missy meowed and rubbed herself on Ella’s shins as she dished out canned food in the cat bowl. Still, Ella knew better than to try and pet her again. She’d found Missy in the midst of a gang of gangly boys who’d tied a can on her tail and had run after her, beating her and shouting. The kitten would need time to trust again.

Don’t we all? Ella made sure there was water in the kitten’s other bowl, then pulled her hair up in a ponytail. “Stay put, Miss Meow,” she told the cat, glancing at the dark skies outside. What was with the freak weather? Making a round of the apartment, she made sure all windows were fastened shut. “Not the day to escape and wander outside, hear me?”

The kitten flicked an ear in her direction and went on eating.

With a sigh, Ella grabbed her backpack, her guns and knives, and stepped out. After locking up, she checked that her iron charms were in place, nailed outside the door. No way could Shades enter.

Feeling better, she turned to go. Her neighbor’s door was ajar. Mike liked to air his apartment in the mornings, letting a draft go through. Said it cleared his head. She tiptoed by. Mike was always chatty and she wasn’t in the mood. At least he’d hung the charms she gave him — old horse shoes and four-leaved clover made of iron.

Then she went in search of her car, her body vibrating with tension. Above, the clouds swirled in spiral patterns and faint clicking filled the air.

The oncoming storm had nothing natural about it.

Chapter Two

Grey

Ella found her car not far, in a side street. George had parked it right outside a bakery. The baker cast her dark looks as she approached. She pretended not to see him.

Traffic was loose, and she made it to police HQ earlier than she’d predicted. The offices buzzed, phones rang, and when she stepped into the lift, she had to jostle for space. Everyone else filed out before sublevel three, though, leaving her to ride down the next four levels in quiet, broken only by her thoughts — the alley, the kobolds, the goblin, the shining symbols on the man’s arms.

The lift dinged and she walked out into the bare-bulb lit corridor of the Paranormal Bureau. Hidden, unacknowledged, secret.

With the veil thinning at this new speed, she wondered how much longer it would be kept a secret. Most calls the police HQ got nowadays were redirected to them. Camilla, their coordinator, had asked for an assistant with the phone. Of course, money being tight, she’d never gotten one. Which meant it was each for himself. You got a mission, you went and did it and came back to nurse your wounds. Simon called them the MB: The Masochists’ Bureau. Her mouth twitched as she rapped on Dave’s door. Mabel, his secretary, frowned at her from her desk.

“Dave’s on the phone,” she said. She wore mascara so thick her eyes looked like two black moths had landed on her face.

“Then I’ll wait,” Ella said, bypassed Mabel and entered Dave’s office. She closed the door behind her, ignoring Mabel’s protests.

Dave swiveled his chair around, the receiver held at his ear in a white-knuckled grip. His face was pale with anger and his jaw clenched tight. He hummed.

Ella sank in one of the plastic chairs and hooked a leg over her knee. Absently she scraped dried mud off her boot.

“Yes, sir, I understand,” Dave said, his clipped tone belying his politeness. “Of course.” He listened for a few minutes longer, while Ella continued cleaning the mud from her boot, the pieces falling on the linoleum floor. Then he hung up and huffed.

He gave the pile of dirt a pained look.

“Finally done?”

“Manners, Ella.”

She rolled her eyes and straightened from her hunch. “Any news from Simon?”

“I’m afraid not.” Dave rearranged a few heaps of documents on his desk. He placed two pens on top of a file, then changed his mind and lined them by his computer screen. He started humming again.

It knotted Ella’s muscles with tension. “Dammit, Dave, what’s going on?”

“Language, agent.”

“Give me a break. We’re secret and officially don’t exist. Plus I was assaulted by some pretty nasty Shades last night, the attacks are increasing, and my fucking partner’s gone.”

Dave scowled, flushing with anger. “Don’t push it, Ella. We’re informal most of the time, but you’re going too far.”

So it was going to be one of those days, was it? “Fine. Sorry.”

Her squad captain nodded and sat back. “As I said, Simon’s gone. Nobody knows where he is. We’re filing a missing person report.”

Jeez. The cold in Ella’s stomach intensified. “I’m sure he just forgot to let us know,” she said, “something must have come up—”

“He’s gone, Ella.”

She drew a shuddering breath. This couldn’t be happening. Hunting Shades, sending them back to the Grey had never been risk-free, but it hadn’t been that dangerous, either, not if you knew what you were doing. And Simon knew damn well what he was doing. Hell, he’d trained Ella.

“Could be unrelated to the Shades,” she whispered.

“Are you in full denial mode today?” Dave snapped. “What, you think a truck ran him over and nobody noticed to report it?”

Denial, right. She nodded at the phone. “I need his girlfriend’s address.”

“So you go poke and upset her more? We’ve asked her the questions that had to be asked.”

“He’s my partner. I’ll ask my questions.”

He sighed, then rattled off an address. She memorized it; she knew the place. “So, spill, Dave. What did the powers above say?”

“About what?”

“Don’t. Simon’s missing, and last night could have been my last. You owe me honesty.”

“Wasn’t in the contract.”

“Fighting goblins wasn’t in it either. But here we are.”

Dave sighed. “You know as much as I. The Veil is thinning.”

“Has been, for centuries, here and there, but never like this,” Ella said. “Why is it getting worse, fast? What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I’d tell you if I knew.”

“Come on. I saw your face when you were on the phone. What did they tell you?”

“I said I don’t know.”

She got up, anger swelling in her chest. “Fine. I’ll go talk to Greary, Simon’s uncle. He may give us a clue.”

She expected Dave to say Greary wasn’t right in his head, that he’d checked all leads. But he didn’t.

“Just swing by the downtown HQ afterward,” he said. “I want you to talk to the chief officer there, Martha.”

“What for?”

“She may be able to See the Shades. We need every single voyant we can find.”

“What about Listeners?” Oracles most called them. Those who heard the whispers of the Shades through the Veil. “Since Anya left the Bureau, we haven’t hired anyone.”

“Don’t you have a neighbor who’s an oracle? Ask him if he could help.”

“Mike? He’s a hazard to himself. I can’t involve him in this.”

“You were the one talking of oracles,” Dave said.

Damn him. She turned to go.

“Ella?”

She stopped. “What?”

“You’ll need a new partner.”

It was a punch to the stomach. She fought not to bend over. “I’ll be fine.”

“No you won’t. You need another voyant to fight by your side. Martha—”

“I said I’ll be fine. Simon will be back.”

“Well, you can’t fight solo while he’s away. Too dangerous.”

“Then assign me someone until Simon is back.”

“I will. Martha, as soon as you tell me she’s a Voyant.”

Ella shook her head and strode to the door. “I said I’ll be fine on my own. And I’ll find Simon.”

“And if you don’t?”

“Simon will come back.” She let the door slam behind her and marched toward the lift. The walls pressed against her. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

***

Officers she barely knew cast her curious glances as she marched through the lobby and out of the HQ, her eyes burning. Dave, damn him, talked of Simon as if he was dead. He wasn’t. No way.

Where the hell was he, then? Greary had to know something; Simon visited the old man often.

People didn’t just vanish.

Meet Greary. Find clues. Bring Simon back. Feed the cat. Fight the Shades. Make it through the day. Small goals.

The institution was located in a small park of pines in the outskirts of town. It even sported a duck pond up front. She gave her name and signed a form at the reception desk. She put “family” in the small box and thought with unease that, from now on, she could well be Greary’s only visitor.

No. Simon would return. She’d see to that.

An unhappy-looking nurse led her through long corridors and left her in a sitting room with Greary and with stern instructions not to open any windows or doors and to notify the reception after leaving the room.

The old man didn’t seem to notice Ella at first and she wondered if his mind was completely gone. Old age or Alzheimer’s, she couldn’t remember which. Simon hadn’t talked much about it. Greary sat by the French doors, looking out into the garden. A bare tree spread its branches outside, black against the overcast sky. Pale sunlight filtered through.

“Mr. Greary, it’s Ella,” she tried. “Do you remember me? Friend of Simon’s.”

The mention of the names seemed to rouse him. “Simon. Ah. He should’ve married, had kids. I always told him that.”

Ella looked away, bit the inside of her cheek. Simon and her, they’d tried dating a year back, but it hadn’t worked out. Would it be any use telling the old man Simon had gone missing?

“Yeah, well.” Something caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. She stepped closer to the window, into the frail sunlight. “Nobody could ever get to tell Simon what to do.”

“Stubborn son of a bitch,” the old man agreed. “Like his mother, bless her soul.”

Ella nodded; not that she’d ever met Simon’s mother. “When Simon last came to visit you, how was he?”

The old man didn’t reply. He was staring outside. “Do you see them?” he asked, a little breathless.

“See what?” The air was bright and clear. Sheets of light fell through the clouds.

“His fingerprints,” he said and patted the blanket on his legs. “Everywhere.”

Ella pressed her lips together. Was he talking of god? She couldn’t remember if Simon had said Greary was religious. “Where?”

“John Grey.” Drool dripped on his chin. “Grey.”

With the clouds spanning the sky, it was hard not to see grey. “Well, winter’s coming.”

“Winter, yes.” He kept staring at the fogged-up glass panes and she followed his gaze. Someone had drawn a symbol, a small spiral. Flashes of darkness, a long road covered in snow. A winged shadow flying against the moon.

“Where’s Simon?” Greary asked and she jerked back. He’d turned his gaze on her. A white film covered his eyes. Cataract. He was nearly blind.

She blinked. “He had work. I came instead.”

“Did he find what he was looking for?”

At last, information. “What was he looking for?”

“The soldiers...” He looked confused. He blinked and blinked, twisting his hands in the blanket. “The guards. The grey.”

Deflated, she nodded. “Right. The guards.”

“Did he?”

“Did he what?”

“Find them?”

“I don’t know, Mr. Greary. Did Simon tell you anything? Was he going somewhere?”

“Simon... He always looked out for you.”

“Yeah. He did.” Ella rubbed her eyes and turned to go. “I’ll come to visit you again soon, okay? Take care.”

A nurse trailed her with a form to sign out as Ella strode through the lobby and out of the institution, heading back to her car. What a waste of time.

Half-way to her car through the small park, she stopped. The air clicked around her, and her hair whipped without wind. A dark mist rose. She drew her gun and crouched behind a low fence.

Two shapes formed, unfolding from the mist, and, good god, were those horns on their heads? They were goat-legged and hooved. Huge though, at least two heads taller than her, and twice as wide. Oh man, she hadn’t even had breakfast yet, and the day was shaping up pretty bad already.

She bit her lip, clutching her gun to her chest. The clicking filled her ears. A theory said it was how Shades communicated, and expert linguists had been brought in to decipher it. They hadn’t cracked the code yet.

Still, she strained her ears. What if these Shades knew what had happened to Simon? What if they spoke his name?

The clicks grew louder as the Shades approached, their hooves clacking and mingling with their strange speech. How would ‘Simon’ sound in clickish? Simon was the one with the language skills. Simon...

The clicks stopped. She blinked. The creatures sniffed, their faces wrinkled, and they gave a sort of screeching bellow. Then they launched themselves at her.

Oh, crap. She stood up, firing bullet after bullet. They didn’t stop. She holstered her gun and drew her throwing knives. Dammit, she should have passed by the armory first. Narrowing her eyes, she threw the first knife. Missed. The creature moved too fast for a good target, but she managed to cut its cheek. The Shade hissed but kept coming.

The other knife hit the other Shade right between the eyes and it fizzled and faded.

Ella grinned.

Then a hand landed on her shoulder, and she gasped, tried to turn around. Claws dug into her flesh, scraping the bone, and she struggled not to scream. She hadn’t seen this one creeping from behind.

Ella went for her second knife, but suddenly she was airborne. She hit the shed wall with a force that knocked the breath out of her lungs. Dropping to her knees, grating them on gravel and twigs, she bent over, trying to suck in air. Ow. Her ribs and her shoulder blared pain, while her knee throbbed in time to her racing heart.

More figures appeared from her right. Holy crap, how many were there, and what did they want? A snack, a voice in her head piped, and she hissed, getting to her feet. No, she didn’t feel like getting eaten today, or dying in general, not before finding Simon and bringing him back. His uncle needed him, hell, she needed him. The world was falling apart and she couldn’t go on without her friend and mentor.

She lifted her knife, but the next blow threw her face-down to the ground. Pine needles scraped her cheek and neck, stung her arm. Her knife was gone, thrown out of her hand on impact. She blinked at the needle-covered ground, pine-green of course, and damn uncomfortable.

Three horned silhouettes loomed over her, black against the white light filtering through the clouds. Shit. She struggled to sit up, figuring she’d at least give them a few bruises before going down. What a way to go. She’d kill Simon when she found him.

One of the Shades kicked her in the chest with a hooved foot and, god, that hurt. She curled an arm around her ribs, swallowing a moan — when something flashed at the corner of her eye.

Blades — slicing through air, spinning like twin suns, slashing and cutting. Pale hair fluttered as the slender man feinted and parried and stabbed, never stopping his movement, always dancing forward, cutting down the Shades. Open-mouthed she watched as he slid under their guard, his knives drawing black lines on the Shades’ hides. Fizzling filled the air, and then shrieks.

Ichor sprayed and she threw an arm over her face, protecting her eyes. When she next looked up, the Shades were gone, and so was he.

Damn.

***

The armory was situated at sublevel four, and her steps led her there on autopilot. Apart from the officers’ canteen and Dave’s office, that was the one other place she frequented at the HQ.

A distrustful-looking officer demanded to see her badge. Newbie? She’d been there a thousand times. Rubbing her bandaged shoulder, she waited until she was waved inside.

Immediately she spotted Jeff and headed his way. “Hey, Jefferson.”

He grinned at her. “Elly.”

“Need weapons.”

“You’ve come to the right place.” Behind him stretched rows of guns and knives, laid out on shelves and tables. “Long time no see.”

“Did Dave tell you anything? I need — we all need — blades and bullets made of iron.”

“Pure iron?” Jeff put down the blade he’d been carving symbols into. “Has it come to that?”

“So Dave told you nothing.” Ella puffed in anger. “Look, it’s urgent.”

“You know I’ll have to talk to your boss first.”

Awesome. “Do that, but do it today. I’m not kidding, Jefferson, things are going to hell and fast. I need weapons that can protect me, or I won’t be around much longer.”

He frowned. “You’re kidding me. That bad? You said Shades can’t get that nasty.”

“Well, things change,” she said, more bitterly than she’d planned. “Getting attacked twice within twelve hours and barely making it out can change your mind.”

Jeff gave her a long look. “Never seen you afraid before.”

“Haven’t been in a long time,” she said. Her phone rang and she flipped it open as she left the weaponry. “Ella.”

“Have you heard the reports?” Dave sounded harried and out of breath.

“No, what?”

“Four people were killed in Collin Park and two in an alley near the wharf, all literally shredded.”

Ella winced. “Well, I had a run-in with three Shades at the institution where old Greary lives.”

“Today?”

“Less than an hour ago.”

He swore. “And did you find any leads on Simon?”

“Nope. Something about soldiers, guards and grey.”

He sighed. Didn’t say ‘I told he was no use’, but she could almost hear it. “You need a partner.”

“Heard you the first time. I will find Simon.”

“Just check Martha out, okay? At least we’ll know if she can join our squad. With Simon gone, god knows we need more people.”

“And where do I find her?”

“She’s Officer Martha Graham at the police HQ downtown.”

“Fine.” She’d check out the woman. Chances were she wasn’t a voyant at all. Most such cases were false alarms, people claiming they saw ghosts and monsters, but only building them up in their own minds. Okay, so sometimes they really saw the Shades, especially when under stress, but that wasn’t helpful. Ella would need someone able to see the Shades all the time, and that wasn’t common. “Tell Jeff at the armory we need iron weapons, will you? It’s getting kind of urgent.” She’d need to scour the library archives, see if there was any other strong protection she’d missed.

“Will do. Just get your ass over to downtown HQ.”

“Okey dokey, boss.” She grinned, pleased, and knowing that despite his recent grumbling he hated being called that. “As soon as I can.”

“What does that mean? Ella, where...”

But she’d already hung up. She had Simon’s girlfriend to visit. Let Dave write Simon off for dead. She wouldn’t.

Chapter Three

Oracle

Ella rang the bell two, three times, but nobody came to answer the door. Could it be the wrong apartment?

Steps. A floorboard creaked. “Who is it?”

“Police. Agent Ella Benson.”

The door didn’t open. “I’ve told the police everything I know already.”

“I’m Simon’s partner.” Damn, still nothing. “He must have told you about me.”

“Maybe. I don’t remember.”

Heat bubbled in Ella’s chest. “Look, I just want to ask you one or two things.” She swallowed the hard ball of anger in her throat, together with her pride. “Please.”

She waited.

The door clicked open.

The other woman — Ella refused to think of her as Simon’s anything — walked to the long white sofa that took up one end of the living room and sat, crossing her ankles. She wore black stilettos and a short black skirt, which irritated Ella somehow. Simon liked that? He’d never said anything about her worn combat boots when they’d dated. The woman was pretty, she had to grudgingly admit, her short black hair stylish and her eyes large and green, perfectly made up. If she’d wept for Simon’s disappearance, she’d carefully wiped the evidence away before reapplying her thick mascara.

“So you’re Simon’s partner?” The woman looked at Ella from under lowered lashes. She didn’t seem impressed.

Ella wasn’t, either. “And you’re his girlfriend? Really?”

The woman laughed, and suddenly Ella liked her a lot better. Her laughter was open and infectious. “Yeah. Sarah. Sarah Williams.”

Ella took a seat without waiting for an invitation — her knee was killing her and her ribs burned. “Sarah. Look, I’m hoping for any clues as to what happened to Simon. Was he with you yesterday?” The thought hurt, but what the hell. It wasn’t as if she and Simon had anything going on between them, not anymore.

“No, he wasn’t. He said he had a lot of work at the Bureau.”

“You know the exact nature of Simon’s job?”

She nodded, short black hair falling in her eyes. She pushed it back with a manicured hand. “I know what your job entails, agent Benson.”

“Ella,” Ella said automatically. “You know about...?” She waved her hand in the air.

“The Shades? Yes.” Sarah looked away, lines forming between her dark brows. “I can hear them.”

“You’re an oracle.”

Sarah nodded again.

“Was that how you and Simon met?”

“Yes. He came to me, about a month ago, asking if I’d heard anything unusual from beyond.” She smiled a sad smile. “‘Any good stations on the radio?’ he’d asked. Made me laugh.”

It was Ella’s turn to nod. Sounded like Simon. “And did you?”

“What?”

“Did you hear anything unusual?”

Sarah gave her a steady look. Her red lips pressed together in a stubborn line. “Agent...”

“Just Ella.”

“Ella. I told Simon what I heard, and now he’s missing. Being here may not be the best idea you’ve had recently.”

Half insult, half warning. Ella relaxed. This was more familiar territory. She didn’t want to like this woman. “That’s up to me to decide. So...?”

Sarah leaned back, one hand clenching against a fashionable red cushion. “As I told Simon, the Voices have gotten very loud of late. Deafening at times. They talk a lot about doors and passages. They never did before.”

Ella shivered. She glanced at the balcony door, uneasy all of a sudden. “What else?”

“They talked about John Grey.”

“Are you sure?” Greary had mentioned that name. She’d thought it an old man’s rambling.

Sarah frowned. “Of course I’m sure. Are you poking fun?”

“No. Not at all.” Ella wiped a hand over her face, pinched the bridge of her nose. “This name could be important. Any idea who this man is?”

Sarah rubbed her hands over her legs, as if cold, and Ella caught the outline of a knife strapped on her thigh. There was more to this woman than met the eye. “I wish I could help you. All I can tell you is that they seem to fear him.”

Interesting. A king of Shades, perhaps?

“Listen.” Sarah clasped her hands in her lap. “I don’t know where Simon is. But I’m pretty sure I know who took him.”

Ella shook her head. “I don’t—”

“The Shades took him. Whoever this John Grey is, he’s obviously taking control of the Grey, sending his Shades to take over this world.”

“That’s speculation, unless you heard something more you’re not telling me.” Ella got up, bent her head and took a deep breath. “You know nothing of Simon’s whereabouts last night?”

“No, and I told the police that already.”

“Fine.” Ella turned to go.

“Agent Benson.”

“What?”

“Be careful. If they got Simon, they may be coming for you next.”

She thought of the Shades ambushing her outside the institution. Maybe they already had.

***

Finding a parking spot downtown was a bitch, as expected, and when she thought her mood couldn’t get any fouler, the officer at the door inspected her badge with a lifted brow and took his time doing so. What was it with new officers today?

She resisted the urge to tap her foot while waiting to be let through to the inner sanctum. Finally she was waved in and crossed the small reception area.

In the holding cage in the corner, someone was curled against the bars. She passed two women and a man filling out complaint forms and tapped on the door to the main office. A middle-aged woman stood by the desk, drinking coffee from a plastic cup. Her uniform was stained and rumpled, and she wore her reading glasses on top of her head.

She squinted at Ella. “Yes? How can I help you?”

Ella opened her mouth to speak, when something clicked. Her breath caught. The air swirled in the corner of the room. A shifting cloud of darkness, arms growing from its top. A Shade trying to get through the veil.

Letting out the breath quietly, she turned back to the woman. “Looking for Martha Graham.”

“In the flesh.” Martha looked down at herself and made a face. “Had a bit of a run in today. I arrested a thief and he gave me a run for my money.”

Ella raised her brows. “I see.” At the edge of her vision, the Shade was taking a more humanoid form. A head had appeared above the arms, with two glowing holes for eyes.

“So... what can I do you for?”

“David Holborn sent me,” Ella said, and it was a struggle to keep her hands off her knives. Maybe it was a harmless Shade, but after the recent attacks... “Paranormal Bureau.”

“Oh, right. I know why he sent you.” Martha waved a hand at a plastic chair. “Have a seat. Want a coffee?”

Ella thought about declining, but didn’t. She felt cold, and realized she was in a bit of a shock, with Simon gone missing, the recent attack and a Shade forming mere feet from her. Warmth and caffeine sounded good. “Yes, please.”

“Tastes like piss,” Martha warned, waddling out the door. “Just so you know.”

Ella gave the Shade another look, but it was still forming. She couldn’t attack it yet. Slow to cross, slow to move. That was how Shades used to be. Damn. Good old times.

So instead, she took a seat and stretched out her legs, glancing around the messy office. Her leg, broken in an encounter a few months back, itched and ached. The weather was changing, growing colder and damper, making old fractures and joints hurt. Simon often complained about that, too.

Simon. Missing. Ella’s hands started shaking again, and she was grateful when Martha pushed the cup between her icy fingers. She sipped at her coffee, bitter and sweet and scalding hot. The only way she could drink that crap. Maybe the woman was a psychic after all.

“So, David Holborn sent you.” Martha tsked. “I bet it’s about that little incident a month ago at the Shawn Merlin murder scene.”

Ella remembered the case. Gruesome murder, blood splashed all over the house. No fingerprints, no clues. Case unsolved. “What happened there?”

Martha leaned against the desk, cradling her cup in both hands. “Well, I... Most people would think I’m crazy, but I saw something... Thought I saw something.” She gave a rueful smile. “I did tell David Holborn that it was probably the shock. Murder scene was quite horrid.”

“Yeah,” Ella said distractedly. The Shade had now grown legs, long and spindly. “Just tell me what you saw.”

Silence greeted her words. She turned. Martha was giving her a doubtful look.

Ella sighed. “I won’t call you crazy, I promise. I mean, I work for Holborn, right?” She flashed what she hoped was a disarming smile. “And this stays between the two of us.”

Martha seemed to relax a little. “All right.”

“So...?” The Shade had taken full form, and Ella’s hand strayed to the gun strapped to her hip.

“Well, I saw something.” Martha put the cup on the desk, drawing Ella’s attention back to her. She wiped her hands down her pants. “Not sure what it was. I first thought it was some sort of animal in the shadows of the staircase. You know. In the house. The staircase leading from the living room, the murder scene, to the upper floor where the bedrooms are.”

“What sort of animal?” The Shade was still and its energy pulsed faintly and steadily. It didn’t look like it was about to attack. Still... “Can you describe it?”

“Hard to tell. It crouched, and it seemed to have a muzzle like a dog. But its body...” Martha shuddered. “It looked like a person’s. Legs, arms. I could swear I saw horns on its head, though.” She snorted, a forced, nervous sound.

So she’d seen a Shade indeed. Dave’s instincts were good. “Have you seen this sort of thing before?”

Martha shook her head. Her glasses fell and she made a grab for them. She missed and they clanked to the floor. Well, even if she did see Shades, she didn’t strike Ella as someone cut out to fight them.

“Never have. Hope never to again, either.” Martha placed the glasses on the desk and almost knocked the coffee cup over.

“Can you sense anything in this room right now?” One last try.

Martha froze halfway from straightening the cup and glanced around, her eyes wide. “You mean there’s something here?”

Ella didn’t answer, let her take her time and look. The Shade was shuffling toward the door of the office. It was in plain view, not hiding in a corner anymore.

She waited.

Martha finished her inspection of the surroundings and turned back to Ella. “You’re kidding me, right? Is it some sort of a test?”

It had been, and Martha had failed. Half an hour of Ella’s life lost — not taking into account her hunt for a parking space earlier. Could have been worse, she supposed. She could have been forced to take on a partner. “Thank you for your time, officer.”

“What exactly did Holborn want from me?” Martha asked, frowning. “I told him all this before. Why did he send you?”

“Just standard procedure,” Ella lied. “Checking whether you might have seen the murderer.”

“Good lord, no. The murderer used a knife like any proper human being.” Martha shivered. “What I saw...”

“... was probably due to stress.” Ella rose from her seat, palming one of her knives. She should take care of the Shade right now. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Martha walked her out into the reception hall. The Shade stood by the counter. In the detention cell at the back she could make out the man she’d noticed before, holding onto the bars. A green bandana was wrapped around his head, and silvery hair hung around his gaunt face.

Him! “Who’s that?”

Martha huffed. “Caught stealing from a car. Gave me a good run. Told you.”

So it was he who’d given Martha ‘a run for her money’. She wondered how he’d let the clumsy officer capture him.

“You,” the man whispered, sounding tired. In the fluorescent light from the fixtures overhead, his eyes were a pale, crystal blue. “How did you—?”

“Hey,” Ella interrupted, not wanting Martha to hear about their past encounters. “What’s your name?”

He opened his mouth, but only hissed out a breath and his eyes widened. “Vaettir.”

Shades. Ella turned.

The Shade was shuffling toward the holding cell. She stepped in its way, her knife ready. It reached out a clawed hand and Ella ducked and slashed, carving upward. The Shade shrieked as it flickered, showering her hand in ichor, and vanished.

“What was that?” Martha glanced around, eyes very wide. “What did you do?”

Ella wiped her knife and hand on her pants. She’d need to wash it, soon. “Nothing.”

Avoiding Martha’s disbelieving gaze, she turned back to the man. “So, what’s your name?”

“Finn.” His voice was a pleasant rasp. His knuckles were burned, red and blistered. Splashed with ichor most probably, like hers.

“Finn what?” He said nothing. “Where are you from Finn?”

He shook his head, looked away.

“Do you have papers? What about an ID?”

He pressed his lips together, jaw clenching.

Ella considered this, aware of Martha’s gaze burning at her back. He was a thief, and without papers. She didn’t have the authorization to take him out, but, what the hell, he’d saved her life — twice. And she wanted to ask him a few questions in private.

“Let him out, Martha.”

“What? I can’t do that, it’s against procedure—”

“I’m taking responsibility.” Ella still didn’t turn. “Okay?”

“He’s probably an illegal immigrant. Did David Holborn give permission for this?”

“Yes,” Ella lied. She’d deal with Dave later. She gave the man — Finn — an assessing look. He was watching her intently. “Now open the cell.”

Martha hesitated, as if waiting to hear it was a joke. Then she waddled over, keys jingling in her hand, and unlocked the door.

Finn stepped out. His clothes were a mess. His cargo pants were ripped and muddy, and the white t-shirt was stained so many colors she couldn’t begin to image what he’d rolled into. And he was barefoot. Ella shivered just by looking at him, but he seemed unaware of the cold. In fact, he didn’t seem very aware of anything. He swayed where he stood.

“Hey, careful.” She grabbed his arm and guided him toward an empty chair, surprised at how skinny he was. He’d moved so gracefully when he fought, she hadn’t noticed.

But when she pushed him down to sit, he resisted. “I need to go. My knives.”

“Do you have them?” Ella turned to Martha who sighed.

“Yeah, I got them.” Martha went to retrieve the two bowie knives from a locked drawer. She handed them over, scowling. “If this costs me my job here, or a promotion...”

Ella handed the knives to Finn who sheathed them at his sides. “It won’t.” She gestured for Finn to follow. “We’ll be on our way.”

***

Ella kept an eye on Finn as they exited the station, but he didn’t stumble and kept his gaze straight ahead. Wrapped in her leather jacket, with her boots and snug, warm pants, she felt cold just looking at him in his thin t-shirt and bare feet.

The first thing she did upon entering the car was turn on the heater. Finn belted himself in when she told him to. Sniffed suspiciously at the air, jerked when she turned on the radio.

“I’ll take you home,” she said. “Give me your address.” She waited, the heater blasting hot air inside the car.

Finn didn’t reply. His hands clenched in his lap, against the dirty fabric. He had long, graceful fingers, but they were scratched and covered in grime where the ichor hadn’t burned them. Traces of silvery lines rippled on his skin, like the ones she’d noticed on his forearms the first time.

“What are those? Tattoos?”

He shoved his hands under his armpits, hiding them.

“Thank you, by the way,” she said, staring at his profile, the slightly hawkish nose, the pale eyebrows drawn together over intense eyes. “For saving my ass. Did you just happen to pass by when the Shades attacked me?”

He grimaced. “I follow the thinning of the Veil.”

“Do you work for someone?”

He shook his head. Made sense. If he did, he wouldn’t need to steal, would he?

“Been hunting alone for a long time then?”

He nodded. So this was how the conversation would go. “Why are you here?” Ella asked.

“The Veil.”

Ah, monosyllables and repetitions. Fun. And it couldn’t be that simple. She forced on a smile. “Hey, relax, I won’t bite, okay? I’m just going to take you home. What’s your address?”

He clenched and unclenched his hands, let out a breath. “Collin Park.”

“That’s not an address.” But she set off anyway. Maybe in Finn-speech that meant ‘Please drive me to Collin Park, I live nearby, thank you.’ Keeping one eye on the road, she shot him the occasional glance, hoping to catch a shift in his expression. “There was an attack there today. Heard about it?”

Again he said nothing and generally kept a sullen silence as she drove. She’d somehow expected her savior to be more interested in talking to her. But he didn’t seem curious at all, hadn’t asked a single question. His silent, forbidding presence grated on her taut nerves. She’d been used to Simon riding shotgun, grinning and cracking jokes, or recounting his day on their way to the gym or a bar.

She tried hard to stop thinking of Simon. She failed.

Collin Park came into view. Police cars were parked outside, and the area was cordoned off.

“Left,” he rasped, surprising her, and she turned into a narrow street with uniform buildings, modern concrete walls, chrome and glass. Offices and stores.

“You live here?” she asked, slowing down, craning her neck to look up at the reflections in the endless windows. “Finn?”

He opened the door and fell out of the moving car, somehow landing on his feet and staggering to the sidewalk.

“Finn, wait!” Damn the man and his stubbornness. She stopped the car, jumped out and scribbled the number of her mobile on one of her business cards. She crossed to him, pressed it into his hand. “I’m Ella Benson. Here’s my number.” He clutched it, eyes narrowing. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I owe you.”

“I don’t...” He looked down at the crumpled card. “I’m tired of this.” For just one second, his impassive facade crumpled and tears shimmered at the corners of his eyes.

“Of what, Finn? I can help—”

But he turned around and jogged down the street in an uneven lope. She started after him, but he was ungodly fast for someone who’d seemed so wobbly back at the station. Before she’d broken into a full-out run, he’d vanished into some alley.

Ella stopped. He didn’t want her after him, or he’d have told her something about himself — at least his real address. He didn’t want her help. It stung but it was his call.

She returned to the car, got inside and gripped the wheel hard. Thumped her forehead lightly on it. Nothing more she could do. She had Simon to find and her job to do. Hell, Missy needed to be fed, and Dave to be updated. Maybe not in that order.

Pulling off the sidewalk, she drove toward HQ. But she couldn’t shake off the unease, or chase away the image of the tears in his eyes.

***

Dave received the news of Martha’s unsuitability as Ella’s new partner with a grunt and a sigh, but didn’t seem put out, even though he stressed it would be temporary. Yeah, whatever. He still denied he knew why the Veil was thinning so fast. So Ella avoided him. Punching your boss in the face was bad form. Probably.

Later that night, when she’d finally curled up her sofa with a take-away burger and fries, an emergency call came through from another Bureau team and she found herself fighting Shades for the second time that day. More goblins, more horned trolls or whatever they were, and the team emerged from the encounter bruised and beaten.

Trudging back home to her apartment, she thought of Finn. There’d been no sign of him this time when the Shades attacked. She climbed up the stairs, cooed to Miss Meow, and went to the bathroom where she laid her weapons in the shower and crouched down to clean them.

She sat still for a long moment. Finn’s absence from the fight worried her, although it shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like he could be present every time the Veil thinned. He was just one person. With the Veil sprouting leaks in more and more places, he’d probably go after the ones he thought important. Important how? What was he looking for? What was his purpose in town?

Settling on the cold tiles to wipe down and hone her knives, she tried to convince herself nothing bad had happened to him. Jumping to conclusions wasn’t a good idea.

Stop worrying, Ella. He wasn’t a kid, or a kitten like Miss Meow, to be taken in and cuddled. He was a grown man, a good fighter and a driven one at that. He needed no aid.

Well, she couldn’t help it. Overprotective and a mother-hen Simon had called her. So what? She thought of Sarah, of Simon not telling her he’d been in a relationship for a month, and anger flared.

And with it the pain of his absence. What use was it anyway, cleaning her knives and following the other agents to fight the Shades if Simon wasn’t there? Fighting only to escape by the skin of her teeth, bruised and bloody and not knowing why the hell she was doing it.

Protect the citizens. Yeah. With all the Shades pouring in, the few Bureau agents could only do that much. If things got worse, they’d need reinforcements. Perhaps even the army would be called in.

She stared at the light reflecting on her blade. Pointless, all pointless. They had to find the source of the problem, the reason the Veil was tearing. Could it be this John Grey?

Dave. She was sure he knew more than he let on. Simon would’ve made him sing easily; he had Dave wrapped around his little finger.

Damn, she needed Simon by her side. They’d always worked together, since she first arrived at this town and started her training for the Bureau.

Looking down at her filthy clothes, she realized she had to do laundry and soon, but she kept postponing it. Since Simon had vanished, she lived in a strange vacuum, a bubble in time where all she could do was search and wait.

She only had to find him, and the world would be right again, she was sure of it. Clues were what she needed, and there was a place where she might find them.

***

Late next morning she stumbled blindly out of bed, found the bathroom and took a quick shower. She pulled on a knee band, threw on jeans and her favorite purple tee, holstered her gun and sheathed her knives, and set out to visit Simon’s apartment. Dave would have a fit if he knew where she headed, but she hadn’t been called on a case yet. Her free time was her own.

She hadn’t been at Simon’s place in a while — not, in fact, since their aborted fling a year back. Leaving her car down the road, she cautiously made her way through a verdant garden to Simon’s entrance. Elegant, typical of the high-end neighborhood, the building always made her feel out of place, dirty and uncouth. She’d always stuck out like a sore thumb around Simon’s friends. Probably one of the reasons it hadn’t worked out between them. She bet Sarah had fit right in.

Let’s hear it for self-pity.

Grimacing, she entered the lobby and climbed the stairs to the third floor. A police seal covered Simon’s door, yellow and black, and it brought a lump of fear to her throat. She tore the damn thing off and unlocked with the key Simon had given her back when they’d dated. He’d never asked for it back, and by implicit agreement she’d kept it in case of emergency. Though she’d never thought it would be this. No, never this.

Quiet. A fine layer of dust covered the furniture and the orderly rows of books on the shelves. A bunch of withered red roses stood in the vase on the coffee table. Simon’s drawings of nudes covered the walls. A dirty mug and a kitchen towel sat on top of the counter by the stove. Simon’s last breakfast in his apartment.

She looked away.

What was she searching for? Some sort of clue as to where Simon had gone and what had happened to him, but everything looked in place. Nobody had attacked him there; nobody had disturbed the military order Simon kept. His bedroom was cast in darkness, the light from the open door showing his neatly made bed and his slippers by the side. She went in regardless and opened the drawer of his bedside table, rifled through his clothes. Then she stood by the window and looked through the slats at the street below. What happened to you?

She wandered back into the living room and sat at his small desk. His laptop was missing. Taken by the police to search the files, as per procedure. They’d taken his papers too, the boxes with his notes and bills. She put her elbows on the desk, propped her chin on her hand. What now?

A folded piece of paper under the leg of the coffee table caught her eye. A support? She couldn’t remember the table listing. It was an expensive one, made of massif wood and glass. She bent over and pulled the paper out.

Smoothing it out on the desk, she stared at Simon’s scribblings. Looked like a page torn from a notebook. It was covered in cartoonish characters, circles and dots, as if Simon had it by his side while talking on the phone. Nothing important.

She was about to get up and look around the kitchen, when she flipped the page and froze. She sank back in the chair. A spiral was drawn in the center. She traced it with her fingertip. The pen had been pressed deep into the paper, leaving an indent. In the center of the spiral, a stick figure had been inked, a person, and below black marks. She bent closer and read her name, etched in flowery script. Her hands began to shake. Next to it Simon had written a row of numbers and letters. Her heart began to pound. A code?

Get a grip on yourself. It was just scribble paper. He’d used it to prop the table’s leg, for god’s sake.

The table that had never listed. She’d sat with Simon countless times there, talking about the Shades, Ella’s dysfunctional family and Simon’s archaeology interests. Had he left the paper there for her?

Yeah, why would he do that? If he’d found out anything important, the first person he’d have gone to was Dave. And, really, the spiral was one of the most common symbols, a natural design, something Simon must have drawn unconsciously. It meant absolutely nothing.

But what if it did? What if Simon had wanted her to see this?

On a whim, she shoved the paper in the pocket of her jacket. It wasn’t a clue, she told herself, not until she found a meaning to the numbers and letters, although she’d give it a shot. She’d swing by HQ, see if Jeff had any ideas.

But she’d barely stepped out the door when Dave called her.

Chapter Four

Andlangr

Carlton Hospital was huge and built like a maze. She lost time trying to get directions and then trying to follow them. You’d think they’d have signposts in a place that big. Maybe even traffic lights and pedestrian crossings.

At last she found the right place, and there was Dave, sitting in the waiting room and nursing a cup of coffee.

“You took your time,” he grumbled.

“How’s Sarah?”

“Lost a lot of blood. They’re operating now.”

“So how did she escape?”

Dave shrugged.

“Okay.” They’d have to ask her. “Where was she attacked?

“On her way home, in the street. The Shades carved her up pretty badly.” He rubbed a hand over his face. He looked much older than his forty years. His hair seemed to have turned grey overnight. “Did you hear about Greary?”

“The hell? Simon’s uncle?” A cold feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. “What happened?”

“Dead.”

Crap. “Heart attack?”

He gave her a funny look. “These days? A Shade attack on the institution. Question is: why him?”

Ella sat next to him and tangled her fingers together, stared at the knot. “I think he was an oracle.”

“And Sarah...?”

“An oracle, too.”

Dave grimaced. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Guess so. The Shades have started attacking oracles.” Damn, Mike. She had to check up on her neighbor.

“And voyants. Two more agents have gone missing. Nicki and Shawn.”

“I thought Shades didn’t work in an organized manner.”

He shrugged. “Something has changed.”

“Yeah.” The understatement of the year. A thought struck her. “Dave, maybe it’s time you told me—”

Dave cut her off. “Listen to me. You need to get a partner ASAP, or else you’re staying home with police detail.”

She opened her mouth to retort, when a doctor came out of the surgery room, pulling off his latex gloves. “Are you next of kin?”

“Captain David Holborn, police.” Dave flashed his badge. “How is she?”

The doctor nodded. “She’ll be fine. She’ll need to rest.”

“We must talk to her,” Dave said, looking over the doctor’s shoulder at the nurses wheeling Sarah out of surgery. “It’s urgent.”

The doctor sighed and gestured for them to follow. “Five minutes. If she can.”

They were let into her room. She was propped on two pillows, looking pale and drawn. Her face, clean of makeup, seemed very young. Her short hair was mussed.

“Ms Williams, we need to ask you a few questions,” Dave said. Sarah ignored him, turned her gaze to Ella.

“Simon?”

Ella shook her head. “Still missing.” She walked around the bed so Sarah wouldn’t have to crane her neck to talk to her. “Who attacked you, Sarah?”

“Shades.” Her voice was rough. There was a paper cup with a straw on the bedside table, and Ella offered her water. Sarah refused with a shake of her head.

“How did you escape?”

“A man...” She winced, shifted on the bed. “Helped me.”

Finn? “A blond guy with a bandana?”

Sarah nodded. “He seemed hurt.”

Ella’s stomach roiled. “Hurt how?”

“Ms. Williams.” Dave shot Ella a dark look. “What else can you tell us about the attack?”

“Beware,” Sarah rasped. “The guardians.”

Dave’s eyes flashed. “Ms. Williams...”

“Guardians?” Ella prompted. “What guardians?”

“She’s clearly not lucid,” Dave said, face hardening.

The doctor entered and hovered by the bed. “I’m afraid you need to leave now. She needs to rest.”

Dave cast Sarah one last look and turned to go, shoulders stiff. “I’ll post security outside. Coming?”

“Go on, I’ll see you at HQ,” Ella said. “I’ll ask her a few more questions.”

“Suit yourself. Remember you need to find a partner. I wasn’t kidding.” Dave left the room, his steps fading.

“I said she needs to rest,” said the doctor, folding his arms across his chest.

“And I said just a few more questions.” Ella smiled sweetly. “Alone with the patient, please.”

He scowled and lingered a moment too long, then left the room and closed the door.

“Sarah.” Ella took a deep breath. “I’m still looking for Simon. I need information. For Simon’s sake, tell me, what else did you see or hear?”

Sarah reached out a shaky hand and grabbed Ella’s wrist. “John Grey,” she whispered. “John Grey.”

“You’ve said this before,” Ella said, frustrated. “Have you heard anything new?”

“The guardians.” Sarah let her hand drop and turned her face into the pillow. “My head hurts.”

“Listen.” Ella fought the urge to pace, and bent over the bed so she could keep her voice low. “I really need your help with this. I can’t find any clues to Simon’s disappearance, and you can help.” She licked dry lips. “Please, Sarah.”

Sarah looked up, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “There was this name... Ad Long.”

Ella licked dry lips. “Ad Long?”

“Or Ad Lang. Or something.”

Ad Lang. Adlang? Andl— No, not possible. Ella took a step back, her breath knocked out. “Andlangr? The fucking Gates? Is that what you heard?”

“Gates...” Sarah’s eyelids were drooping. She was floating on a drug cloud.

Ella shoved her icy hands into her pockets. This wasn’t good. Not good at all. And she hadn’t been expecting it. Why were the Shades talking of Aelfheim? “I’ll find Simon. I promise.”

But Sarah was already asleep.

***

Ella flipped her phone open and hit the speed dial as she strode down the stairs and out the hospital. She jogged down the street to her car. A slip of paper on the windbreaker caught her eye. A fine? Really?

“Ella?” Dave barked from the other end. He didn’t sound thrilled to hear her. Go figure. “It’d better be important. I’m in the middle of a crisis here.”

Shaking her head, she snatched the slip and entered her car. Funny how a fine could sting after Sarah’s ominous words and the fear curling tight in her stomach. “Let me guess: more Shade attacks?”

“Yeah.” Dave spoke to someone offline, then grunted in the receiver. “Something you wanted to tell me?”

“Did the powers that be forget to tell you the mess we’re in has to do with Aelfheim, or did you choose not to tell me?”

Silence. Dave’s rapid breathing. “Ella...”

She swallowed, made sure her voice was even. “Spit it out, Dave. What else should I know?”

“We’ll talk. I promise.”

“Like we talked half an hour ago? And all these past days?” She bit down on the words that tried to pour from her mouth — damn you, Dave, you stupid son of a bitch, this is so much bigger than I thought and what the hell are we going to do now? —and revved the engine. “I’m on my way.”

“I can’t talk right now, Ella.”

“Then when?”

“Just relax, okay? The world won’t end tonight, I promise. Come tomorrow morning and I’ll tell you all I know.”

He hung up before she could tell him what to do with his promises. She punched the wheel. Dammit. Was she overreacting? Was she rushing to conclusions? The talk of Gates and Aelfheim, what else could it mean?

Many shops looked closed and shuttered as she drove home. A woman ran, her handbag swinging. Late for an appointment or pursued by a Shade? Ella rolled down the window, but the air was quiet.

Great, now she was seeing Shade attacks everywhere. She patted the charms around her neck. They chimed softly, calming her.

Countless worlds hang on the Tree; its mighty roots stab the Grey. Andlangr which some call the Aelfheim, is closest of all, but the Gates have been locked and lost.

A place she hadn’t heard discussed in years — ever since she’d joined the Bureau. A place grown mythical for lack of contact in the long centuries since the Gates were reported closed. Sealed and hidden, and for good reason, if the stories were anything to go by. Earth had barely avoided total annexation back then. If the Gates opened again...

Who knew the thinning of the Veil would look like a tiny hiccup in the big scheme of things? If Sarah had heard correctly. If it really meant what Ella feared. If worst case scenarios didn’t make the most sense right now.

But as long as Dave refused to talk, there wasn’t much she could do, and she was dead tired. Time-out to lick her wounds.

***

Throwing her keys on the kitchen counter, she opened the fridge, stared blankly at its empty contents and her last bottle of beer. She closed it again. God, she needed a vacation. And a life.

Missy wandered by, meowing and stopping to rub herself on the chairs and walls. Crap, she’d forgotten to get more cat food. She fished out the last can from her cupboard and grabbed the can opener.

“See, Missy, there’s food for you in this apartment, but not for me. What does that tell you about me, huh? No sense of self preservation, Simon always says.” She paused, her chest heavy. “But what does he know? I’d much rather pass out drunk on my sofa, thank you very much.”

Missy watched intently as Ella dished out the smelly food, waited until she moved away, and then approached the bowl.

Ella sank in a chair, watching the kitty feed, and unscrewed the lid off the beer. “Glad to see me, Missy? Because you sure don’t look like it.” She took a swig of cold beer and shivered. Damn, the heater. She lurched to her feet and went to flick on the switch. Hot air hit her face and she turned, letting the warmth work on the knotted muscles in her back.

Missy growled softly, making small slurping noises.

“Simon is missing, you know. It’s been...” Ella shook her head. “Two days now. I’m scared.” She staggered back to her seat, put the bottle on the table. “Can’t be a coincidence, can it? That he’s vanished just as the world went out of spin.”

Missy didn’t seem interested in listening or answering, which reminded her of someone. “He hasn’t called me, you know. Finn. Not that he said he would. Or even that he needs my help.” She swallowed more beer. She still had to get that pleasant buzz that softened the edges of the world. A second beer might do the trick, and she didn’t have another, dammit. “But I’m worried. I’ve a right to be worried about him, okay? He saved me twice; we’re practically family. Like you and me.”

Missy didn’t seem impressed. With typical feline focus, she finished her food, sniffed around the bowl in case she’d missed any, and settled down to give herself a bath.

Ella pulled out the piece of paper she’d found in Simon’s apartment and stared at it. The letters and numbers swam in her eyes. God, she was tired. And she hadn’t had a chance to show the paper to Jeff, see what he thought. Who else could she ask? Dave was avoiding her, avoiding the whole question about the Gates, and damn if just the word didn’t make her stomach do backward flips with dread. But even that wasn’t enough to put her off her search for Simon.

Maybe Mike from next door might have an idea?

A bang jerked her to her feet. The noise had come from Mike’s apartment. Talking of the devil... With all that was happening lately, she felt justified in grabbing her gun and rushing out to check on him.

Mike’s door was half open. She’d need to have a word with him about security. Nudging it open with her foot, gun aimed, she entered. Quiet blanketed the apartment. Nothing moved. She listened for tell-tale clicks, but the soft ambiant music playing on the speakers distracted her. Where was Mike?

A groan from the adjacent room made her shoulder muscles clench. She stalked to the door and waited, then stepped out, pointing her gun.

“Oh, dear,” Mike muttered, on his knees, sweeping glass shards off the floor into a dust pan, “see the mess I’ve made. And this was my favorite crystal ball, too.” Messy dark hair fell into his eyes, hiding them.

Ella lowered her gun. “Are you all right?”

“Ella?” He fell back, eyes big as saucers. “Didn’t hear you come in. What are you doing here?”

Feeling foolish, she holstered her gun and went to help him gather the shards. Belatedly she realized she hadn’t even washed her hands and they were covered in grime. Her nails were encrusted with dirt and blood.

“Sorry. I heard a noise and thought maybe you were in trouble.” She gestured at him. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Mike pushed himself up and smiled, his dark eyes lighting up. “That’s nice of you. I was having some trouble — with the Voices. Too loud lately.”

“Ball slipped?” Mike liked to hold it in his hands, said it helped him focus.

“Yeah.” Mike winced. “Damn expensive thing.” He sighed, wiped his hands on his jeans. “Can’t do one thing right these days.”

“Welcome to the club,” Ella muttered. “Look, sorry I barged in like that.”

“Nonsense.” He frowned. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you.”

Crap. She’d been afraid this moment would come. “Look, if it’s about the hours I return home from work, I do my best to keep it quiet but sometimes the door—”

“Oh, no.” He looked startled. “Not that. I mean, you don’t make any noise, nothing to worry about.”

Relieved, she leaned against the sofa. “Then?”

“Not here.” He wrung his hands together. “Not now.”

Odd. Well, since she was there, she might as well say what she had to say. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, too.”

“About?”

“The thinning of the Veil. Oracles are getting killed, Mike, maybe you should—”

He waved his hand up and down, pressed a finger to his lips, nodded over his shoulder.

What the hell?

“Mike?” A man’s voice. “Is everything okay?”

Ella turned. There was indeed a young man — a half-naked young man — in the doorway of what had to be Mike’s bedroom. “Who’s that?”

“Um. You remember Scott?”

Ella blinked. “Your boyfriend who lives on a ranch out of town?”

Mike grinned. “Yeah, he’s the one. Only just arrived today.”

Picked the perfect time, too, with the world going to hell. She wondered if the countryside was safer. Maybe she should move there. “I’m Ella, next door neighbor.”

Scott nodded, and Ella nodded back. The guy was taller than Mike, with broad shoulders and an easy-going smile, his tousled blond hair giving him a jaunty air. Not bad-looking at all.

“Listen,” Mike cast her a pleading look, “will you be in later?” He turned his back to Scott. “Please,” he mouthed.

“Sure.” Ella looked from him to Scott and back, her curiosity piqued. “I’ll be in.”

***

Missy chased a dust bunny across the floor, then abandoned it in favor of chasing her own tail. Looked like fun. Ella dozed on her couch, a stupid reality show lulling her to sleep, while the kitten ran up and down the living room on soft paws.

A knock on her door jerked her awake. A feeling of dread made her heart pound. The fading images of a dream teased her sense of reality — white spirals swirling, swallowing her up, a hand approaching her face, a sense of danger.

She shook her head to dispel the last vestiges of the dream and got up. The room was cast in grey. Dark was falling.

Another knock. Grabbing her gun, she crept behind the door. “Who is it?”

“Mike.”

Letting out a sigh of relief, Ella unlocked the door and slid it open. “What’s all the secrecy about?”

“Oh, that? Um.” Mike’s cheeks flushed. “I just don’t want Scott caught up in this.”

“He’s with you,” Ella felt obliged to point out. “He’s caught up already.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t want to involve him in the Shade business. He thinks I’m fun-crazy, which is fine, but...” He shrugged. “With all the attacks, and the Voices getting louder, I’m afraid...”

He’ll leave you? Ella swallowed a sigh. Her Sight had been one of the reasons her family had broken apart. The HQ psychologist had insisted it would’ve happened anyway, but deep inside she was sure it was because of her.

“Things are about to get worse, Mike,” she muttered. “Like I said before, the Shades have been attacking oracles. You’re in danger.”

He paled and backed away. “What should I do?”

“I’d say moving to Scott’s ranch might be best.”

“Can’t. He’s just sold it. He’s moving in with me.”

Man, Scott’s timing really sucked. “Okay, just — be careful. Redraw the symbols on your door and use more iron charms, wear your clothes inside out, hang a rock with a natural hole around your neck. Everything I’ve told you before. And carry a knife with you. In fact, what about a gun?”

He paled. “Gun?”

“Gun.” Ella holstered hers, tapped the grip. “Bullets. Weapons. You need to protect yourself.”

Mike said nothing, shifting from foot to foot. Damn the man, he’d probably sworn an oath to Buddha to harm no living being, not even cockroaches.

When the silence drew long and tense, she gestured at the kitchen counter, visible through the doorway. “Want a coffee? I think I’ve got a bag of that instant stuff somewhere.”

“No, I...” He sank on the sofa. “I also need to tell you something.”

“So you said. Did you hear anything on the grapevine?”

“Yeah. I heard a name.” He looked down at his hands, twisting them in his lap, and drew a long breath. “Yours, Ella.”

She tensed. “What did they say about me?”

“Nothing. I mean, it could be another Ella, right? But they also mentioned a Simon not long after, and I thought it might be your partner.”

“What did they say about Simon?” She rounded the sofa and leaned over him, her hands itching to shake him until he told her all he knew. “What else? Dammit, man, spit it out.”

He shrank back, raised his hands. “Nothing interesting, I swear.”

“Anything you heard could help.” She took a deep, steadying breath, and straightened. “Anything.”

“Well, they mentioned this word — Boreal. Does it mean anything to you?”

Boreal? “That’s something like northern, right? Like Aurora Borealis, the northern lights.” Could that be a clue?

He shrugged. “No idea. Is it important? I’m more concerned about your name being mentioned. Could they be after you and Simon?”

Ella fell in an armchair and threaded her fingers through her loose hair. “We think they went after Simon already. He’s missing.”

Mike blanched. “Oh, god...”

“When did you hear the names?”

“This morning. I’ve been turning this over and over in my mind, and I just can’t help thinking — could that mean you’re next?

She shrugged. “Well, they haven’t managed to catch me yet.” Thought they’d tried. If it hadn’t been for Finn...

“So they’re after voyants, too.”

“We think so. Mike...”

“I’ll be careful. You too. Promise?”

She nodded. A hell of a mess and no clues about Simon. And there was talk of Gates and shit that everyone had thought long forgotten and over with, returning to haunt them. John Grey. Guardians. Aelfheim.

“I’ll go now. Scott will wonder where I’ve gone.”

“Wait!” She fished the crumpled paper out of her back pocket and waved it at Mike. “Any clue what these letters and numbers could mean?”

He scratched the back of his head and shrugged. “Looks sort of familiar. Maybe a password for a bank account?”

Ella sighed. “Maybe.” Though it looked all wrong.

“Well, g’night.”

She threw an arm over her eyes. “Remember to lock. And use the charms. And don’t go out alone.”

“Yes, Mom.” She heard the fond smile in his voice, though. The door clicked open, and then shut.

Chapter Five

Spiral

Ella slept. Spirals bloomed behind her closed eyelids, growing like flowers, turning into snowflakes that blew on her face, tickling her skin. A large hand cupped her cheek. ‘Ella,’ whispered a man’s voice. ‘Will you come with me?’

Terror seized her limbs. She fought to tear herself away but couldn’t move. Go away, she wanted to scream, not again, I’m not leaving. The spirals spun faster, black sinkholes, sucking her in.

The persistent ring of a phone jerked her awake. She drew lungfuls of air, nearly choking on it. She hunted for her backpack by the side of the sofa, located the phone in and flipped it open.

“What?” she snapped.

“Ella?” said a man’s voice and she swayed, still half-caught in the dream. “Ella, it’s Finn.” His voice wheezed like he was panting. “I need your help.” The line fizzed as if strong wind blew on the other end. “Ella?”

That brought her back to her senses like a slap to the face. “Finn? You okay? Where are you?”

“Can’t see... Harlem street...”

A deafening crack and a cry sent her pulse thudding in her ears. “Finn? Finn, dammit!”

But there was no answer.

Cursing, she grabbed her backpack and raced out the door, redialing the number Finn had used. The phone rang as she stepped out in the bitter cold, and then ran back up to grab her gun and ammo. On the way to her car, an automated voice informed her that the number she was calling wasn’t responding. She flipped the phone closed, refusing to acknowledge the dread knotting her insides. He’d be fine. She’d find him.

He hadn’t wanted her help, which meant he was in desperate straits, maybe dying and...

Goddammit, stop the negative thinking!

Driving through the city center, she prepared to call Dave, only to discover her battery had given up the ghost. She flung it at the back seat, too pissed to even care if it broke. Her fault. Not prepared, not organized where it mattered. She’d lost Simon, and now...

She gripped the wheel tighter. Dave would have told her not to go, not alone. She’d have to wait for backup, maybe be taken off this case altogether. Thank god her phone had died. Probably a stroke of fate. She was meant to go and find Finn, dammit.

That made her feel marginally better.

Harlem Avenue was bright with lights, but few people braved the cold. She rolled her window down to clear the condensation on the glass. The promise of snow hung heavy in the air; it smelled fresh and dry, thick with crystals. She cruised along, keeping an eye on every corner she passed.

At the corner with Kennedy Street, she saw a flash of movement but it was only a group of teenagers running, one of them clutching something to his chest.

Not Finn. Gritting her teeth, she kept at it, passing more crossings, feeling time slip through her fingers. The cold hurt her face, pulled the skin tight over her cheekbones. A clue, just a clue, that’s all I need. The words looped in her mind, repeating over and over again. Come on, Finn, where are you?

Just when she was about to give up hope, toward the end of the avenue, she spotted an old public phone on the corner with Remy Street. The receiver dangled from its cord, and the cabin panes had been smashed.

All the nasty images that had been rolling inside her head, ever since Finn’s call, tangled and merged into a bloody picture. Finn was hurt, she just knew it.

Fighting panic, she turned into the street. The air smelled burned and electric, clicks and whirring noises filling it. The clouds seemed to swirl overhead. The Veil was thinning. She parked, barely avoiding a street lamp, got out and drew her gun.

Trees swayed and whispered in a wind that flowed down the street like a river. It blew back her hair and stung her eyes with dirt. Squinting, she raised her gun and jogged up the sidewalk. The air thickened. Her skin prickled, the spot between her shoulder blades itched. As she walked, she covered the street with her gun. Give me a sign you’re still here, still alive.

But only the wind blew, whipping the flaps of her jacket and hurting her eyes, while the clicks became louder. The Veil was parting.

A shout somewhere to her right left her breathless with hope. Finn? She sprinted that way, turned into an alley and ran smack into a goblin, large and horned, its greenish skin mottled like a camo suit.

The creature swung a massive fist, but she twisted and received the hit on her upraised arm. Her gun went flying.

The impact threw her backward. She stumbled a few steps but managed to keep her feet. Darting a look around, she drew her knives. Well, no point in keeping silent anymore, was there?

“Finn!” She circled the goblin, her knives glinting in the light of a street lamp. “Finn, where are you?”

The goblin bared yellowed canines and lunged. As she spun, its long claws scored her back and she faltered, knees weakening at the burning pain. Gritting her teeth, sweat trickling down her face, she kept upright and turned to face him once more. A deep breath and she ducked under his reach, stabbing and dragging her iron blades.

The goblin bellowed and swiped at her, knocking her backward. Its form flickered and wavered like a broken TV screen, and its next bellow came out broken. The goblin faded.

“Finn! Dammit, answer me!” Wiping her knives on her cargo pants, she listened. The wind carried a groaning and a howling that grew louder and louder as time passed. Another howl began somewhere farther away, and then — there — another human cry. Heart hammering, she set off in its direction.

Gaze flicking back and forth, she ran, knives pointing out, sweeping in a circle around her. The walkway between houses was dark and wet under the foliage of beeches. Empty benches marked the length of the walkway. Another lamp cast a pool of light farther up.

Shadows shifted across the path, the air hummed with tension, and she slowed. Her pulse rang in her ears. Something huge lumbered across the path, blocking her way. Well, would you look at that. A rock troll.

“Join the party,” she hissed between her teeth as she mentally went through her remaining weapons. “Any more of you around?” Her two daggers, two throwing knives, two shuriken throwing stars — Jeff didn’t have much in way of iron blades. If a troll like this one had gotten Finn, it was no wonder he’d needed help. This time she vowed she’d find out why he kept going after the Shades.

First of course she had to get rid of this troll and find him. Focus, Ella. She spun one of the knives to distract the creature, but it kept coming at her. Trolls were supposed to be dimwitted, but with the new mastermind behind them, they seemed to have grown cleverer.

The troll slowed, as if measuring her, and she backed away, sheathing a knife and drawing a shuriken. It was shaped like a four-point star, all sharp edges. Thumb pressed in the center indentation, holding the star loosely, she waited for an opening. Movement beyond the hulking form of the troll drew her eye, but she snapped her attention back when the troll lurched toward her, its examination of her concluded.

“Where’s Finn?” She waited till the last minute, then jumped sideways, out of the way and around the troll’s back. “Where?”

The troll turned, drool running from the corners of its mouth. The protruding tusks looked black in the dim light. It growled low, bunching huge fists at its sides, trunk-like legs tensing. It attacked again.

Ella ran down the path, the troll’s heavy steps pounding behind her. Where was the other Shade she’d seen moving?

The troll was gaining on her. She stepped out of the path under the trees, aimed and rocked back on her heels. She let the shuriken fly.

It hit the troll in the leg, sent it down. The troll howled, but the iron was already working, dispersing the Shade’s essence, sending it back to the Grey. Sparkles danced on the air where the towering form had stood, the sight oddly beautiful and very, very satisfying.

Something rumbled on her left and she spun around, another shuriken in hand. A goat-legged, horned being threw itself at her. She let the shuriken fly without conscious thought. The creature shrieked, limbs jerking, and fizzled into thin smoke.

Panting, Ella bent over, curled an arm around her ribs. They burned. She wiped sweat from her eyes and straightened. Time for the throwing knives.

“Finn!” Her voice echoed between the buildings and the trees, under the heavy sky. She started to walk down the path. A scuffle and a grunt from up ahead had her running before she’d even registered what she was hearing.

A fight?

Her hopes rekindled, she raced into the dark, ducked under a low branch and came out into an alley. A lamp flickered there. At first she didn’t know what her eyes were seeing in the wavering light — a composite form made of black and white, all entwined like a black and white rope. Then the white parts jerked and she caught a glimpse of a face, mouth open, eyes wide—

Finn. The goblin held him by the neck, keeping him off the ground so that his legs dangled, kicking uselessly at the goblin’s thick limbs.

Son of a bitch. Pulling back her hand, she threw her first knife, then the second for good measure. Both thudded into the goblin’s bare back. The creature shuddered, turned as if to look at her — and vanished.

Finn dropped to the ground, gasping and coughing, writhing like a stranded fish. He looked like hell warmed over, Ella thought as she knelt next to him and rubbed her hand up and down his back to help him breathe. He looked gaunt, made of sharp angles, his skin stretched too tight across the bones.

“Saw... a butterfly,” Finn gasped.

“It’s okay.” Damn, what was he talking about? Blood dripped from a cut on his brow, glistening crimson over his eye and cheek. He’d probably taken a few hits to the head. And yet the green bandana was still on, keeping his pale hair off his face. On closer inspection, she saw one of his wrists was swollen, and she had to wonder if it was broken.

“My knives.” Finn coughed.

“We need to go. We’ll get you new ones.”

“No.”

As if they had time for this. More Shades could appear any moment. “Where are the damn knives?”

He tried to turn around and she stopped him. “Stay. I’ll get them.”

She went to investigate. One was embedded in the trunk of a beech, and she had to brace herself with her foot on the tree to pull it out. The other knife she found lying in the grass. She returned with her spoils.

“Here. Happy?”

He took them with his good hand, sheathed them at his waist one after the other. He was literally splattered with blood and ichor, so much so that she couldn’t tell if he was hurt elsewhere or if it was all from the cut on his forehead.

But, hell, at least he was alive.

***

They made their slow way back to her car, Finn limping by her side, one arm slung over her shoulders. His breath wheezed with every step.

He smelled of blood and ichor, and some sort of sweet spice. She didn’t know much about him — not her fault that he was tighter than a clam — but she was somehow quite certain that allowing her to help meant he’d reached the end of his impressive endurance. The way he sucked a sharp, shallow breath from time to time made her suspect cracked ribs, and as for the limp... She’d have to see when they got out of there.

If Finn let her. His scowl, when she propped him against the car to get the door open, couldn’t possibly get any darker.

She froze in the process of reaching out to help him, meeting his glare. “Fine, man.” She lifted her hands. “See, no touching. Only wanted to help.”

Arms folded across her chest, she stood by as he struggled inside. She never thought she’d meet anyone more stubborn than Simon, but there he was. More stubborn and more pissy. Worse than a cat on a bad hair day.

When he was finally seated — shaking and sweating, pale as a ghost, and all his fault for being so pig-headed — she closed the door non-too gently and went around to get behind the wheel.

“So, Finn.” She revved the engine, eyed the gas indicator. Still enough to go on. “This time you’ll tell me your address, and no squirming about it, hear me? You can hardly walk, and you’ll probably land in bed for a couple of days.”

He grunted, cradling his swollen arm against his chest.

“So where are we heading?”

“Bradley Street.” His voice had gone from rasp to a barely audible whisper. The marks of the goblin’s hand around his neck were livid, purple and crimson. “Behind the stadium.”

Cheap area, not too safe at night. Ella nodded and drove out into the avenue, keeping an eye out for more Shades. “Buckle up.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, staring out the window as they rolled through the business district and down by the river.

“How did they get you this time?” she asked. “You need more weapons, man. A gun, for starters, and some throwing knives. Better hit them from a distance if you can.”

Lamps by the riverside sent yellow and gold rippling on the water below. A festooned restaurant-boat was moored at the wharf, people dancing inside.

“I’m glad you called me,” she said, not expecting a reply. “I was worried, you know. Someone said they saw you, and that you were hurt. My partner has gone missing, and I just...”

She tried to keep the words back. Finn was a stranger and she had no business pouring her heart out to him. Then again, they’d been bound by circumstances; he’d saved her, she’d saved him. That had to count for something. “I’m just happy you’re okay. How do you know where the Veil is thinning every time? I always have to wait for some passerby to call.”

The buildings spaced out, the spaces in between filling with empty lots where the homeless huddled around fires in metal bins. The stadium loomed on their right, metal gates locked and covered in old posters, the street outside littered with trash from the last match.

“Where do we go from here? Finn?” She turned to find him slumped over. “Finn.” She braked, and he slid forward even further, limbs lax, head lolling. “Damn.”

She parked at the street side and unbuckled. Turning in her seat, she pulled the lever and pushed the seat down so he lay more or less flat. She didn’t like the way he sprawled bonelessly there, his lips white in the meager light from outside, and his skin cold. Her nerves hummed.

First things first. Pulse. She found it beating in his throat, a little too fast but steady, and she relaxed. Okay. Bleeding? His shirt was definitely sticky with something. She turned on the map-reading lights overhead and examined her fingers. Red. Blood. And it was fresh. Dammit, Finn.

She lifted the shirt and her breath hissed out. Four parallel gashes in his side, deep and ugly, bleeding steadily into the waistband of his pants. They looked like they’d been made by goblin claws. How long ago? No wonder he’d passed out.

Her medic kit was under her seat; standard supplies. She grabbed the antiseptic spray and cleaned out the cuts. He’d need stitches, but butterfly bandages would have to do for now. She patted the wounds dry with clean gauze, then forced her hands to stop shaking and tore the package, fishing out the bandages. Applying them was tricky as the gashes were parallel and quite close to each other. Each cut took two Steri-strips to stay closed, and then, to her relief, the hemorrhage finally slowed.

Sitting back, she packed gauze on top of everything and taped it in place. Then she pulled down the shirt and buckled Finn in. Tried to organize her thoughts. Stared at the blood staining the car seat, the crimson painting her hands, and Finn’s slack face.

The hospital. He’d need antibiotics, maybe even a transfusion.

Feeling better for having a goal, heart thudding against her breastbone, she executed a perfectly illegal U-turn and stepped on the gas. She sped back the way they’d come, not seeing anything but the road ahead, then drove down Brisbane Avenue toward the closest medical center. Everything would be okay. She only had to take him there—

Finn mumbled something. A glance showed her his eyes moving rapidly under his lids. Was he waking up?

“Finn?”

He blinked, pale lashes lifting to reveal slivers of blue. Good sign.

“Hey, can you hear me?” He didn’t seem to focus. “Grunt once for yes, twice for no, okay?”

He groaned. Was that a yes? Then he tried to sit up and she threw out a hand to stop him. “Stay down. Are you hurt anywhere else, somewhere I can’t see? Your stomach? Your back?” She waited, but Finn only managed to look pissed, even lying there like that. “I’ll take that as a ‘no’ then.”

Finn fumbled for the lever and pulled the back of his seat upright. His face paled alarmingly and he grimaced.

“What are you doing? You’ll start bleeding again.”

“I’m fine,” he rasped, swaying. His head dipped forward.

“Sure you are.” She put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “You passed out. We’re going to the hospital.”

“No hospital.” He pushed her hand off, the stubborn bastard.

“Damn you,” she muttered. “I won’t let you die because of some stupid notion of macho I-don’t-know-what. When you need help, you accept it, okay?”

“No hospital,” he repeated, panic in his eyes, and dammit all if he didn’t unbuckle himself and try to open his door as they moved at 70 miles an hour.

She grabbed his arm again and hoped to hell it wasn’t broken. “Don’t you dare. I fought three Shades to save your ass. You have to get yourself checked out. Those cuts could get infected.”

“I’m okay.”

“‘Okay’ as in ‘not dead yet’?” The silence stretched, but at least he wasn’t trying to jump out of a moving car anymore. Good, because she really needed to keep an eye on the road as well. “Are you concerned about your lack of papers? Or money? I’ll take care of that. You’ll be okay.”

“No.”

An ice-cream parlor flashed with festive, multicolored lights. She parked outside and turned to him. “Finn...”

“Please,” he said, avoiding her gaze. “I just need a place to sleep tonight. Anywhere.”

“God, Finn...” Her head pounded. “I didn’t save you from the Shades to let you die of blood loss or infection, do you understand?”

He nodded, still not looking at her. “No dying. Understood.”

That made her smile in spite of herself. She sighed. “Okay. You’re crashing at my place, so I can still drive you to a doctor if you get worse overnight.”

“Not your place.”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“The Shades...”

“My place has full charm protection.” She tsked. “And the Shades are after me, too, so it won’t make any difference if you sleep out on the sidewalk, okay? So, my place, take it or leave it.”

He said nothing, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Then he nodded again.

***

For the first time she could recall, she spotted an empty parking space right outside her building. A miracle. She fished her dead mobile phone from the back seat, shoved it in her pocket, and went around to help Finn. He accepted her aid with his usual grace, glaring and stiffening under her touch. They really ought to have a little talk about manners.

Then again this was the man who’d saved her ass twice. Maybe she could be a bit lenient.

So she stood back and waited, counting under her breath. Mulishly, he stepped outside the car on his own.

A look of surprise crossed his face, followed by a grimace of pain. She made a grab for him and he leaned against her, shaking, lips pressed together tight. She winced in sympathy. Yeah, baby, didn’t you know? When the adrenaline faded, you felt every bruise and cut.

His lean body was heavier than she’d expected. Skinny but wiry, packed with hard muscle. It was a good thing she hit the gym regularly, although her back and ribs protested. His bad leg folded under him twice, and she practically had to haul him all the way up to her apartment. By the time they reached her door, she was sure she’d wrenched both her shoulders, and her knee ached.

Damn man, refusing to go to the hospital. Why had she listened to him? Using every swearword she knew, she fumbled with the key one-handed, managed to unlock the door, and shoved Finn inside. He made no sound as he stumbled inside, fetching up against the wall.

Standing by the door, she kept an ear out in case anything had followed them, but no clicks sounded and no eldritch breeze blew. Good enough. She kicked the door closed and dragged Finn into her living room. He staggered to her battered sofa and sank against the cushions with a grunt. He really looked like crap.

She considered his clothes, probably worn for days and weeks, and now steeped in blood and ichor. His dirty feet were still bare, dirty and reddened, the soles black with grime. Asking him to hop into the shower didn’t seem like a good idea right then, not when he seemed to cling to consciousness tooth and nail.

Ah well, she’d clean up the sofa later, and disinfect the throw rug. Burn it, in fact.

“Stay here,” she said and he shot her a dirty look. What? It wasn’t like he was going anywhere in that state, was it? “I’ll be right back.”

He still glared daggers. Jeez. She was only trying to make him comfortable. Missy hissed from the doorway to her bedroom, back arched and ears flat against her head.

Oh great, two pissy persons in her apartment. “Missy, come with me.”

The kitten glowered at Finn who seemed unaffected, or perhaps too tired to scowl back. Ella pulled two blankets from her bedroom closet, and after a moment’s thought, she grabbed Simon’s sweatpants and a t-shirt. She’d wash them afterward; Simon would never know.

She returned to find Missy still hissing at Finn. What the hell, kitten? “Sorry. She usually doesn’t mind visitors.”

Finn stared at her, as if not understanding the words.

“Here.” She offered the sweatpants and t-shirt. “Take off your clothes, they’re wet and bloody. Put these on. I’ll be back in two minutes.”

She went to the kitchenette, opened her fridge, closed it again. Right, there was no food in the house, and she hadn’t had the time to go shopping. Great hospitality, Ella. Way to go.

She returned to the living room to find Finn drawing on the strings of the sweatpants with his good hand. It trembled. He looked up through his pale hair at her. His filthy clothes lay in a heap on her carpet. She picked them up and went to throw them in the kitchen trash. Ichor had eaten holes in them anyway.

“Hey.” She returned to the living room. “Would you like some water? Or tea?”

He shook his head, fumbling with the t-shirt. His chest and shoulders were very strong and his skin pale and smooth, without stains or moles, as if cut from white stone — apart from the dark bruises and the blood-soaked bandage on his side. A thick scar ran from his heart to his navel, as if someone had tried to carve him open.

She hid a shudder. “Let’s get you to bed.” But he was listing forward where he sat, eyes glazed, and she caught him before he dropped. “Or you could stay here.” She nodded at the cushions. “They’re comfortable and the sofa is soft. I’ve spent lots of nights passed out here, watching TV.”

He eyed the cushions as if they had teeth, but when she gave him a light shove, he turned awkwardly and lay down, swollen wrist held against his chest.

“You really should have a doctor look at that,” she said. “Could be broken.”

“It isn’t,” he muttered.

“And how would you know?”

“I know what broken feels like.”

Wow, an actual conversation with Finn! Would wonders never cease. “Could be a hairline fracture. X-rays are your best friends. Besides, we’ll see how it looks in the morning.” She pulled the blankets up to his chin, patted his chest.

His eyes widened, the pupils so dilated the blue irises looked black in the dim light from the overhead lamp. He seemed oddly vulnerable like that, tucked in like a child, his pale hair fanning around his sharp-angled face. He also looked sad and wistful. It made her want to stroke his face.

She got up before she did anything stupid. With jerky motions, she connected her phone to the charger, and the notification of three missed calls popped immediately on the small screen. Dave.

On cue, the phone rang. Finn gasped and she turned to see him fighting the blankets to sit up.

Bringing the phone to her ear, she waved for him to lie back down. “Dave?”

“Where the hell have you been?” His voice was shrill with anger, and maybe concern, but it was as hard to tell with Dave as with Finn. Men. “I’ve been calling you.”

“Yeah, I saw. What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Dave growled. What the hell, it wasn’t even full moon yet. “My agents have been vanishing and I couldn’t reach you, what do you think? Wouldn’t hurt to answer the phone, would it?”

“Er, sorry.” Damn, he was right to be angry. “Look, I had to run someplace and my battery died. Wasn’t on purpose, okay?” Then his words sank in. “More have gone missing?”

“Four more. This is getting out of hand.”

That was an understatement. “It’s long gone out of hand, Dave. And you still owe me an explanation. What about the Gates? What about Aelfheim? Are the elves returning?”

A choked sound from Finn, but she kept her back to him. Missy growled from the corner of the room.

“We don’t know for sure,” Dave muttered. “My superiors did mention the Gates, but we have no reason to believe any attempt has actually been made to open them. As far as we know, it’s only the Grey expanding and the Veil thinning.”

“The oracle, Sarah, she mentioned guardians—”

“Look, Ella. If anything that bad happens, if the Gates...” He paused. “Then it will be a matter for the government. International security breach. We’ll know soon enough.”

Ella swallowed, staring at her wall without quite seeing it. “By then, it may be too late.”

He hummed. “Without proof that the Gates opened, there’s nothing we can do. The forces are on alert. We wait and watch.”

“You mean, wait until they kill us all.”

“Relax,” Dave said. “We’d know if the Gates opened.”

“Would we? How?”

“Like we did the last time.”

And he hung up before she had a chance to ask what he meant. Looked like she’d have to brush up on medieval Nordic epics. Joy.

And now? Her pulse zinged in her temples. How was she ever going to sleep after such a night?

“What do you know about Aelfheim?” Finn rasped.

She turned to find him glaring at her — again. Jeez, could the guy never relax? “Not as much as I’d like to. I know what the old texts say. What do you know?”

A slight flush rose to his cheeks. “It’s a cold place.”

“Cold. Huh.” She grabbed a book from her cluttered coffee table, a guide to pagan magic she’d borrowed from the library. She hadn’t had a chance to read it yet. “Can’t remember anything about it being cold.”

Finn grunted and shifted on the sofa, face scrunching up. Dammit, where was her head? She snapped the book closed and got up. “Hold on, I’ve got some painkillers.”

She paused while placing the book on the table. On its spine was a white label with letters and numbers. Letters and numbers... With a curse, she pulled the paper she’d found at Simon’s place from her hip pocket. Compared the code. Bingo. “I’ll be damned.” It was a library code. A book!

“Ella?”

She looked up. “Sorry. I’ll get those painkillers for you.”

Missy winding between her legs, she trudged to the bathroom cabinet and took out the strongest pills she had, leftover from the time she’d broken her leg. Grabbed a glass of water from the kitchen and returned to Finn.

Thoughts whirled in her head while Finn reached out for the pills, then the water. A book. Might be nothing. Might be important. Library was closed now. Tomorrow she’d go have a look. Just in case. Maybe it’d give her a clue as to what Simon had been doing the day he disappeared, a clue where to find him.

Taking the empty glass, she pushed Finn back against the cushions and covered him again. His skin was icy cold where her fingertips brushed his throat.

“Sleep,” she told him. “You need to rest.”

“Are you sure the charms—”

“The charms are in place, and I’m here. I’ll look out for any Shades. I won’t be going to bed any time soon.”

The line of his shoulders relaxed, and he nodded. Warmth rushed through her. He trusted her to protect him. Hell, she’d gotten him out of trouble once already today, hadn’t she?

He closed his eyes and dropped into sleep instantly, head lolling to the side, his hand relaxing its grip on the blanket.

Grabbing a cup of sweet black tea and the pagan magic book, she settled down in the armchair, alternatively leafing through the illustrated pages and gazing at Finn’s relaxed face. A bruise was blooming on his cheek and strands of ash-colored hair fell across the other. That bandana was filthy and greasy, hiding most of his forehead. A hand rested on top of the blanket, the silvery designs she’d seen before all but invisible now. Were they somehow reflective? Well, the lamp light didn’t seem to do the trick; the only thing showing was reddened, chafed skin. One fingernail was broken and encrusted with blood.

Another sip of tea gone cold and she smoothed out the paper with Simon’s drawing. All those images flashing in her mind... Dreaming about spirals. What did that mean?

On tiptoe, she went to her shelves and pulled out a guide to dream symbolism, Simon’s present for her birthday a year back. As if he’d known she’d need it. She found the entry and read the following: ‘Spiral: do you feel that things are spiraling out of your control?’

Ella snorted and smothered the sound with her hand, not to wake Finn. It made perfect sense. The psychologist she’d visited a couple of times at the HQ had said she was still working things out, about her parents’ messy divorce, but also other events she couldn’t quite remember. The first eight years of her life were a dark blur. Sometimes she thought she didn’t want to know what her mind was hiding from her. If it was that bad, it’d better stay hidden.

Putting the book back, she walked to the window and looked out into the dark. Faint lights glowed in the apartments across the street. It was quiet.

Finn gave a soft snore from the sofa. Missy wandered over and rubbed against Ella’s leg, purring. She patted the kitten’s head. Contentment fell over her. She looked down at Missy, then sideways at Finn’s sprawled form, her mug of tea on the table, and it occurred to her that, for the first time since she could remember, her apartment felt like a home.

Crazy, really. She hardly knew Finn, and Missy seemed only interested in food and the occasional scratch behind the ears. But these two persons needed her right now, and she’d take care of them. Odd how that made her smile.

Outside the window, the clouds were a pale grey that muted the light of street lamps and turned it into a milky haze. Snowflakes swirled, larger and larger. Soon the street and benches would be covered in white. A blank slate, ready for a new beginning.

Missy climbed on the window sill and flicked her ears back and forth, then butted her nose against the glass.

“What do you think, kitty?” Ella whispered. “Will everything turn out all right?” Missy tried to capture a snowflake through the glass and looked confused when it didn’t work. Ella snickered.

Then her phone rang, and she jerked around as Missy jumped off the sill and vanished into the bedroom.

Damn, Finn would wake up. In two strides, Ella was at the table, picking the phone up.

“Dave?” Because what other madman would be up all night, working? The man never slept.

“Bad news.” He sounded grim and out of breath. “Sit down.”

That was worse than bad, that sounded... No. “Tell me.”

“Ella...” He muttered something she didn’t catch, then cleared his throat. “We found Simon. He’s dead.”

The room began to tilt sideways. She stumbled into the armchair and slid to her knees on the carpet. “No.”

“I’m sorry. Another two missing agents were found with him. All three are dead.”

“No.” It couldn’t be true. Though, somewhere deep inside, she’d known. Simon wouldn’t have taken off without telling her. The Shades wouldn’t have kept him alive. He wouldn’t... “No, Dave.”

“Ella?” Finn stirred on the sofa. “Are you okay?”

“Look, I understand it’s a shock,” Dave said, his voice vibrating over the phone. “It will—”

“Shock?” She snorted. It hurt her chest. She couldn’t breathe. The code, the book, the spirals, the brief joy she’d felt — it all meant nothing, it had no use. “Go to hell. You have no idea.”

“Ella!” Finn was struggling to sit up. “What is it?”

“Simon was my best friend,” Ella bit the words out. “I’ll kill the bastards who got him.”

“Yes, we will,” Dave said, “we’ll talk tomorrow, when you come in—”

She hung up. Time had stopped. The phone dropped from her fingers and thudded on the carpet. All warmth had seeped out of her. She shivered.

“Ella.” Hands turned her around, arms enveloped her, pressed her to a hard chest. “You’re crying.”

“I’m not crying.” She never cried. But when she looked up, Finn’s face glimmered through a white haze, so maybe she was. “Damn you, Finn, you shouldn’t be up.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“I failed him. Didn’t look close enough, didn’t—” Her voice broke on a sob and she swallowed down the tears. Choked on them.

“Who?”

“Simon.” She drew a shaky breath. “My partner. He’s...” She couldn’t say it.

Finn pulled her closer. He shouldn’t be kneeling there in the cold with his hurt leg and his sprained or broken wrist held awkwardly against her back, rubbing her spine up and down. But nothing mattered. She burrowed against him. She wanted to stop thinking, to forget what she’d just been told, to pretend even for a while that everything was okay.

His chin rested on top of her head, and she closed her eyes against his shirt. He still reeked of blood, but underneath was that smell of spice and sugar that reminded her of lit fireplaces and happy laughter.

She curled, breathing in and out, gripping fistfuls of his shirt as if he might wither away and vanish, too.

THE END of EPISODE ONE

.

The Gate

Episode 2

In Aelfheim, the land of ice, two elven races live in permanent conflict: the Ljosaelfar, pale and quick, and the Dokkaelfar, dark and wise, who’ve claimed the underground caves, abandoning their brethren to the frozen surface. Great metal smiths and crafters, the Dokkaelfar have kept the secret of longevity, Gate traveling and fate reading to themselves, while their brethren long to conquer other worlds.

Chapter One

Bone

Ella Benson stared at the body laid out on the morgue drawer, her eyes burning. Bile rose in her throat. “What the hell did that to him?” She gestured at the torso, clawed open so that the ribs stuck out, the bloody ruin of a face.

“We don’t know.” Detective Morgan gave her a steady look. “Agent Benson, I’m in charge of this case and I need to you to confirm—”

“Yeah, it’s him.” They were going to check the dental records, but there was no doubt. Her partner. Dead. One side of that familiar broad face was intact — the wide mouth and square jaw, his skin paper white against the unzipped, black body bag.

He nodded and started his digital recorder. “State his name, please.”

The representative of the medical examiner’s office stood aside, her suit pressed and formal, her hair in a tight chignon. She eyed Ella as if she were something she’d found under the sole of her shoes.

And it didn’t matter one bit.

“Simon Esterhase.” Ella pushed out the name. Her partner. Ex partner. Her chest was a ball of tension. She drew a shaky breath. “Where did you find him?”

“Corner of Madison and Connegut, around midnight last night,” Morgan said. “Agent Benson, state your relationship to Simon Esterhase please, for the records.”

“We work together.”

“Paranormal Bureau, right?”

Ella gave him, and then the woman, a sidelong glance. The Bureau didn’t officially exist, but hey, if he was asking... Someone was clearly keeping track of all departments, secret or not, and the world was going to hell anyway. “Yes.”

“He was a psychic?”

“Yes.” A voyant, in fact, but she wasn’t going to elaborate.

“Anything else you’d like to state for the record?”

“I’ll catch the son of a bitch who did this to Simon. Make sure you report I said this.”

Morgan took a step back, brows lifting. He pressed the pause button. “Thank you, Agent Benson. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

Yeah. She wanted to smash something, and if she didn’t get out of there, it might just be his sorry face.

“Oh, I almost forgot. David Holborn said he wants to see you.”

The boss. “Of course.” She swallowed a sigh. It was just as well. She wanted some answers too. “On my way.”

“Agent Benson... The department will cover the funeral.”

She didn’t dignify that with an answer. They’d damn well better. As far as she was concerned, it was the least they could do.

Finn waited outside the morgue, leaning against the vomit-green wall of the empty hospital corridor. The bruises around his neck had blossomed to an angry purple. He kept his arms folded over his chest, cradling his swollen wrist. The handles of his bowie knives jutted over each hip. Though he said nothing, he cast her a questioning look.

“All done here.” Her voice came out rough and clipped. “Let’s go.”

She walked out of the hospital and he limped along. Stubborn bastard had insisted on tagging along, although he should have stayed in bed. Well, on the sofa. He was showered and dressed in clothes borrowed from Mike and his boyfriend Scott — a black shirt, light fatigues and low boots, the ever-present green bandana twisted in a rope and wrapped around his head.

Together they crossed the avenue back to the HQ, but when they entered the lobby, she gestured at the rows of chairs.

“Just wait here for a moment. I need to talk to my boss. Alone.”

Finn glowered daggers but he turned to the nearest wall — hello, peeling blue paint — and leaned against it. What was it with Finn and walls...? Ah, of course. A clear path to the nearest exit and an unobstructed view of the entire lobby.

Just like Finn. Prepared for anything; always ready.

Shaking her head, a chill dancing up her spine, she set her steps in the direction of the elevators and rode down to sublevel six. Automatically she ran her hands over the knives sheathed in her belt and her gun. Simon had carried his weapons, too. Hadn’t seemed to help.

Rage was building inside her chest, which was much better than the cold pressing so hard it felt like it could shatter her ribs. Her ponytail whipping her back, she marched down the dim corridor under the flickering lights, her boots thumping on bare concrete. Her heart boomed. Reaching Dave’s office, she rapped on the door, managing not to smash the glass — but only barely — and entered without waiting for permission.

David Holborn looked up from a document he’d been reading and pushed the glasses back on his forehead. His desk was neat as always, every surface clean and polished, his folders stacked. “Seen Simon, I presume.”

She stood by the door, hands clenching on the hilts of her knives. “What the hell got him?”

“Have a seat.” She didn’t budge. Dave waited, then sighed and flipped the file closed. “Or not.”

She gritted her teeth and stepped closer. “What was Simon doing there last night? He had no business in that part of town.”

“Ella...”

“His girlfriend didn’t know about it, we didn’t know either. What does that tell you?”

“Absolutely nothing. A private call? Maybe he was on his way somewhere.”

“Yeah, where?” She threw her hands in the air. “When did Simon get a secret life?”

“Look, Ella.” Dave steepled his fingers on the desk. His hands were calloused; he still headed out regularly with the agents, especially with so many of them gone missing. Or dead. “We’re looking into it, okay? And you need to be careful.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “You’re going to tell me again that I need a partner.”

“It may sound harsh, but it’s for your own good. Simon was alone when he was attacked, and so were the other agents who got killed. Our strength lies in numbers.”

“And knowledge,” she bit out. “Tell me about the Gates, Dave. Are they opening?”

“I don’t think so. We’d have seen the usual signs.”

“Which are?”

Dave hesitated. “Elf circles. Fairy rings. Moving lights.”

“Maybe in the city it doesn’t work that way.”

“Ella, Simon was killed by the Shades. Stop looking for other explanations.”

Simon was a cold body in the morgue above their heads, and he was... “Whatever got Simon wasn’t a Shade.”

“Fine, if you say so.” Sarcastic as hell. “I assume you know what it was?”

“No, but I bet you do. I need to know what’s going on. I suppose the overlords are keeping a tight leash on you, but all this business with Simon getting killed,” she swallowed, “and with the Shade attacks getting more frequent...”

“The Veil seems to be getting thinner,” Dave said flatly, and it grated on her jangled nerves.

Was he kidding her?

“Dammit, Dave, stop dancing around the topic!” She slammed her fist on the desk, rattling cups and pencil holders, shaking the computer screen. Hell if it calmed her. Fiery sparks jumped behind her eyelids. “I’m one of your best, aren’t I?”

Dave hadn’t even flinched, damn him. He observed her, his face blank. “You’re the first one I call when things go haywire. You know that.”

She sucked breath after breath, trying for calm. “Then let me in.”

Moments trickled by. Would he report her? She’d never gotten into Dave’s face like this before.

“What do you want me to say?” He sounded tired. Not as tired as Ella felt though. “The disturbances in the Veil are unlike any we’ve seen. The oracles report increased volume in Noise. The Shades are becoming stronger, more varied and organized, and the name John Grey keeps popping up. But you know all this.”

“Who’s John Grey?”

“The name is mentioned in an old Norse epic — well, John Grey is the translation of it, of course.” Dave sneered. “Beware of John Grey, that’s all we know.”

“And Aelfheim?”

“Well, if the Gates ever open again...” He shrugged. “That’s where they opened to last time, more than five hundred years ago. Elfhame. It’s the world closest to us.”

“I know.” She waved her hands in the air, exasperated. “What separates us is only...”

“...the Veil.” Dave nodded, opening his hands palms up. “That’s all I can tell you. Don’t give me that look, Ella. Would I hide anything from you?”

“Of course you would.” Half truths and lies. She thought of the code on Simon’s paper. “I’ll find my own answers.” She looked at her watch — a gift from Simon, dammit — and turned to go. “Oh, and tell Detective Morgan to pack his bags. Simon’s case is mine.”

“No, you can’t—”

“It’s mine, Dave, or I quit.” She hadn’t intended to say that and wasn’t sure she meant it — the Bureau was her life — but now it was out, so she clamped her mouth shut and waited.

He chewed on that for a long moment, his eyes hard and angry. “So that’s how you wanna play it. Fine, you can take on the case. But only if you find a partner.”

Fuck you, Dave. But she didn’t say it, didn’t dare push his buttons more. She nodded. “I’ll bring you someone. A temporary partner. And you’ll approve him, no questions asked.”

“Now wait a minute.” Dave rose from his seat and planted his fists on the desk. Anger radiated off him in waves. “You’re not calling the shots here, remember. I’ll decide if I approve of him and I will ask questions. There are rules for this sort of shit. I’ll need his transfer files.” When she shrugged, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t tell me he’s a civilian.”

“You can find a loophole and get him into the system,” she said, matching him glare for glare. “You’ve done it before.”

“Damn.” He straightened, snorted incredulously. “And why him?”

“Because he saved my life more than once.” She sighed. “Come on, Dave. Desperate times, desperate measures. He’s the best I can find on short notice and I can’t let you hand Simon’s case over to someone else. He was my partner, goddammit.”

“And that should be reason enough not to give you the case.”

Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a breath through her teeth, chomping on the curse that hovered on the tip of her tongue.

“I want you safe,” Dave said.

“And I want to find out the truth.”

He sat back down and dipped his chin to his chest. He hummed under his breath and tapped his fingertips on the desk in a quick rhythm.

“Dave...”

“Fine.” He grunted. “As long as you trust this person. I’m guessing this isn’t the end of trouble.”

Was he kidding? It looked like the trouble was just starting.

***

“You want me to be your partner?” Finn arched a pale eyebrow. “I’m not police.”

“No need to be.” An open door showed her an empty office. She stepped inside and after a moment he followed, a frown on his face. She closed the door behind them. “Look, I need a partner or I won’t be allowed to investigate on my own, what with agents going missing and turning up dead.” She swallowed. “I need someone who can see and fight the Shades. Someone like you.”

“I hunt alone,” Finn said, his voice flat.

“You saved my ass twice, fought the Shades time and again,” Ella said. “This won’t be much different.”

Finn limped to a desk and leaned against it, holding his swollen wrist to his chest. “I can’t.”

Shaking her head, she sank in a chair. Maybe she was crazy to propose such a partnership; she barely knew Finn. But he’d proven he was a good fighter, and although he still moved cautiously and his leg gave him trouble, he healed well. He already looked much better since last night. And he’d shown he cared enough to protect others.

“Listen. I know you’re somehow involved in this,” she said. “You’re searching for answers, aren’t you? And you know about Aelfheim. You found something out and it’s turned your life upside down.”

He bowed his head, didn’t answer. But she caught a glint of blue under his white-blond hair; he was looking at her. Listening.

“You follow the thinning of the Veil, you said so yourself. Fighting the Shades. We could work together.” She gestured at the desks and shelves around them. “You’d get a salary, papers, weapons. Something really bad is going down and maybe together we could find the end of it. What do you say?”

He shook his head, jaw clenched tight. “I’m sorry.”

Dammit. “We keep meeting where the Veil thins anyway,” she said. “I wouldn’t have to worry about you and you about me.” If Finn worried about her. Which she couldn’t know, but he didn’t open his mouth to correct her, and he’d insisted on coming along to HQ to ‘have her back’, so... “We both win.”

It wasn’t to keep an eye on Finn, make sure he didn’t do anything suicidal, that he had warm clothes and a place to crash and to see that look in his eyes when she covered him up. No, that’d be ridiculous. Her hands clenched where they rested in her lap. She had Simon and...

And Simon’s gone. “I need your help,” she muttered. “Please.”

She bowed her chin to her chest, swallowing hard. She couldn’t be like this, she couldn’t break down. Simon might be gone, but she needed answers. Besides, if not Finn, then Missy at least depended on her. She had to keep going.

“Okay,” he muttered.

“Hm?” She looked up at Finn who was rubbing the bridge of his nose. “What?”

“I said okay.”

“You’ll be my partner?”

Finn nodded, his brows drawn together in a frown. He didn’t seem overly happy about it, but she could live with that.

Simon’s case was hers. The wave of relief was dizzying.

“Great.” She jumped to her feet. “I’ll have to present you to Dave to get the stamp of approval first, then off to make you a temporary badge and to get you weapons. Afterward we’ll buy you some pants that actually reach your ankles and boots that fit, and maybe replace that dirty bandana—”

He reached for his bandana, a glint of panic in his eyes.

Ella lifted her hands. “Okay, maybe take it off so we can wash it?” He glared and edged away from her. “Or maybe not.” Who knew the history behind the damn bandana? And besides, let him wear a hula skirt and flowers in his hair if he wanted. All she cared about was the case. “Come on, let’s go see Dave.”

Finn hobbled toward the door, his movements slower than before. Muscles had probably stiffened, and it wasn’t like she’d offered him any breakfast. Or even dinner last night. She promised herself that would be the next thing on her list after Dave. They’d rushed into HQ with the crack of dawn, to identify Simon... Simon’s body.

Ella drew a steadying breath and followed Finn out.

***

“So this is the new partner, is it?” Dave managed to loom while sitting at his desk. “Name?”

“Finn,” Ella said when it became obvious Finn wasn’t about to reply. “Finn, this is the boss. You may call him Dave.”

Finn arched a pale eyebrow.

“No papers, you say?” Dave asked. “No ID or driver’s license? Who the hell are you, son?”

Finn just folded his arms over his chest and glared down at his borrowed boots.

“Look, Dave, he agreed because I practically begged him for help. Save the interrogation.” Ella swallowed a sigh of frustration when Dave shook his head. “It’s temporary, you said it yourself, until the Bureau sends a replacement partner for me.” The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

Dave’s attention returned to Finn. “And are you any good?”

Ella prepared to reply, but Finn lifted his head. “I can see.” As if that explained anything. Maybe it did.

“Seeing is not enough.”

“Dave—” Ella began.

“You fear the Gates are open,” Finn said quietly. “You fear what might come through, as do I.”

Ella cocked her head to the side. Huh. Now this she hadn’t expected. She hadn’t expected Finn to reply, period.

Dave’s bushy brows drew together. The silvery stubble on his cheeks caught the light. “How do you know this, son?”

“It’s Finn,” Finn said testily.

Ella would have laughed, but the memory of Simon’s bloody corpse was too recent. “Trust me on this, Dave, okay? He’s a good fighter. I told you, he saved my life more than once.”

“I was rather hoping you’d take the hint and keep away from work for a while,” Dave grumbled. “Keep safe.”

“Safe?” It was touching that Dave worried about her, but she wasn’t going to sit at home while the world fell apart. “I’m going to find out how Simon died, and what the hell is going on with the Gates. Until the replacement comes, and we both know it won’t be any time soon, I want in the game, so Finn’s in, too.”

Dave gave a reluctant nod. “At least tell us where you come from. Finn. You don’t have a criminal record, do you? Because that could really put a crimp on an already bad situation.”

Ella hoped Finn would answer, but he didn’t, just went back to glaring at the floor. Just great.

Dave shot her a worried look. “You sure you want to be partnered with him?”

“Yes.” Dave wasn’t taking her off the case, damn him. “We all have our secrets.”

Dave sighed. “As long as you don’t keep any from me. Go to Celia and get his badge.” He gave Finn a once-over, frowning. “A medical wouldn’t hurt, either. That wrist doesn’t look good.”

And he hadn’t seen the slashes in Finn’s side, although the limp was hard to miss. She glanced sideways at Finn and found him watching her intently. Simon’s paper with the code burned in her back pocket. Secrets.

“Thanks.” She turned to go.

“Ella.” Dave cleared his throat. “There’s something else.”

She froze with her hand on the door handle. “Yes?”

“A call just came through. In Simon’s hand they found a scrap of organic material.”

She turned around, excitement building in her chest. “The Shades don’t leave tissue behind. That means... It’s human. We can catch whoever did that.”

“They don’t think it’s human,” Dave said, his face unreadable.

“An animal then. Is it because of the claw-marks?”

Dave shook his head. “No, it’s the material. It’s skin, but it’s white and shiny and unlike anything we’ve ever seen before.”

A soft thump turned her attention to Finn. He’d slumped against the wall, his face an unhealthy shade of gray. “Finn?”

“It’s starting,” he whispered.

Chapter Two

White

“It’s my fault,” Ella muttered under her breath, dragging an unsteady Finn along the corridors of the Bureau, past closed doors. “I shouldn’t have let you come. You need to eat, you’ve lost a lot of blood, and...”

And Simon was dead, not that it was a valid excuse. She kept expecting to see him round the corner, a grin up to his ears, readying some new joke to tell her, to make her laugh.

Gone. Her heart felt heavy like a stone.

The elevator door opened and she hauled Finn inside. He stumbled and barely kept his feet. Dammit, he’d looked more or less okay before the meeting with Dave — or maybe she’d been too busy with her anger and sorrow to notice. She didn’t know skin could be so white. The blue-grey of his veins showed through in his cheeks and forehead.

“Hang on.” She pushed him against the metal wall of the elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor and the officers’ canteen. “You just need something warm in you.” A thought occurred to her. “When did you last eat?”

Finn grunted. She wasn’t so versed in Finn-speak to decipher that, so she held on, making sure he didn’t fall, and waited out the ride. As the carriage lurched, Dave’s words echoed in her head. Organic material. Non-human. And what had Finn meant, ‘It’s starting’?

“I think Dave’s right,” she said as she slung his good arm over her shoulders and pulled him out of the elevator. He shuffled along, his lips moving soundlessly. “I should have the doctor look you over, get you some—”

“No doctor,” Finn snapped, although it came out wheezy.

Ah, back to the Finn we know and love.

Their grand entrance into the officers’ canteen garnered them a few curious looks, but it wasn’t the first time she’d entered that way. She nodded at a couple familiar faces from other departments, seated at the old round tables, lit by hanging lamps. Shook her head when they offered to help. They’d probably heard about Simon, and they eyed Finn suspiciously.

“New officer?” Michael from the robbery/homicide division asked, putting down his coffee and wiping his goatee.

“New partner,” Ella bit out. “Temporary.”

Michael nodded, lifting a brow. “Thrown right into the deep end, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Reaching a free table, she deposited Finn in a plastic chair — and pushed him back down when he tried to get up. “I won’t be a minute.”

On the menu, as usual, were soggy bacon and eggs, bread rolls and strong coffee. She got an order for Finn and carried the tray back to their table.

He was shivering. Fuck. Was he going into shock? She dropped two cubes of sugar in his black coffee, and on second thought added two more for good measure. She stirred it and pushed it into his cold hands. “Here, drink. It’ll do you good.”

He sipped so obediently her worry went up a notch. No glare, no snappy comeback. He had to be feeling like shit.

Ella rubbed a hand over her face. He’d be fine. Liquids and iron tablets; that should put him right. And some multivitamins with minerals.

“I must see the skin,” Finn muttered.

“Hm?” She looked up from her contemplation of the yellow Formica of the floor. “What did you say?”

“The skin.” He placed the cup on the table with careful movements, his hands steadier now.

“Eat first. You look like hell, Finn. I’m not taking you anywhere in this state.”

Mouth set in a hard line, he shot his food a suspicious look. He poked the bacon with the fork, took the bread and started eating like a man on a mission. She only hoped he wouldn’t make himself sick.

He did slow down after the first few bites, grimacing, and pushed his plate back.

Canteen food, my man. Heals you or kills you. “Feeling better?”

He nodded, although he didn’t really look it.

Vowing to buy some lighter food for him later, she slid her chair back with a screech. “Let’s get your badge.”

He stood with a wince. “I need to see the skin.”

“In a moment.” She was just as anxious as Finn to visit the lab, but she wanted to make the partnership official before Dave changed his mind.

Where the hell had Simon been headed that fateful night? Corner of Madison and Connegut. Just residential buildings and parks and... the Stevenson Library, a private collection. She thought of the code on the paper Simon had left wedged under his table.

A book. A library.

Son of a bitch.

***

“What else did they say about the skin?” Finn edged away from the camera, giving it a distrustful look.

“I said you need to take off that bandana.” Officer Celia Kollett was in charge of producing Finn’s temporary badge and she was quickly discovering the joys of working with him. “Those are the regulations. We can stay here all day, honey.”

Finn didn’t even blink. Probably hadn’t heard a single word Celia had said. He scowled. “What about the claw marks?”

“We’ll talk about it later. Just take off the bandana and let’s finish here.” Ella kept loading her handgun. She’d need to ask for supplies soon.

“No.”

Ella looked up. Finn glowered, arms folded over his chest. God, he was serious.

“Head must be uncovered.” Celia lifted her hands, exasperated. “It’s for our digital records.”

“Can he leave the bandana on? He actually never takes it off,” Ella said, and saw Finn’s shoulders relax. “He’s only temporary, until the Central sends me a replacement. Nobody will know.”

Celia sighed, rolling her eyes heavenward. “I swear, Ella, for every regulation you follow, you break two.”

Ella shrugged. “It’s been a hard day.”

“I heard. I’m sorry.” Celia nodded, mouth turning down at the corners. “Ah, what the heck.” She printed the temporary badge and slapped a plastic over it. She flourished it at Finn. “Ta-da!”

He grabbed it, not even glancing at it, and shoved it into the back pocket of his pants. “We should go to the lab.”

“Slow down.” Ella started toward the door. “You were barely conscious half an hour ago. Armory’s next. You need weapons.”

He fell into step next to her, ignoring a bemused Celia who was wiggling her fingers goodbye. “Ella—”

“Finn.” She strode faster. “I need a partner who’s official so Dave won’t pull me off the case, and healthy enough not to fall on his face if and when the Shades decide to attack again.”

She chanced a glance at him and winced. If looks could kill, she’d be toast by now. Finn didn’t say “Yes, Mom”, but she could practically hear it.

“Sorry.” She slowed with an inward sigh. “But I can’t skip any more bureaucratic steps. Just bear with me for now, okay? And you do need a gun. You know how to use one?”

“I prefer blades.” That odd accent of his was thicker, maddening like an itch. And that wasn’t an answer.

“You don’t, then?”

He glowered.

Interrogation obviously didn’t sit well with Finn. Heavy-handed, Ella. Simon always said so. If only Finn deigned to answer from time to time...

The armory was on sublevel 4, so they took the elevator down two floors. The door opened with her code and they entered the cavernous hall where the instruments of death were hoarded.

Jeff lifted his shaggy head from a machine gun he’d been examining, nodded at her, and then his dark eyes fixed on Finn. “And who’s this, Elly?”

“Jefferson, meet my new temporary partner, Finn.”

Jeff gave Finn a long look, scratching his scraggly beard, then nodded again. “Heard about Simon. I’m sorry.”

There was nothing to say to that, so she shoved her hands into her pockets and took a deep breath. When had breathing become a conscious act? She felt she couldn’t get enough air.

“Finn needs knives, a gun and ammo,” she informed Jeff and rested her gaze on his collection. There was something soothing in the rows of shiny, dark guns.

Finn’s attention had strayed to a counter covered in blades of all shapes and sizes. He reverently touched a katana. Then he lifted a throwing knife. He twirled it between his slender fingers and Ella wondered if he’d cut himself to shreds. But he didn’t.

Her new partner. She shook her head in disbelief. How had things changed so fast?

“Grab two of those,” Jeff told Finn who jerked back and almost dropped the knife. Jesus, talk about jumpy. “And throwing stars. Shuriken. Good for catching the Shades from a distance. Pure iron, special delivery, came in today.”

Finn hesitated, glanced from Jeff to Ella, then ran his hands over the knives and stars. His eyes fluttered closed, as if he were playing a musical instrument, fingers moving lightly over the shiny blades. Ella held her breath.

“Good weapons,” Jeff said, “all of them.”

That snapped Finn out of his trance. With a little sniff, as if to say he’d be the judge of that, he proceeded to pick up various knives and test their balance and grip, spinning and thrusting them through the air. So graceful. It reminded her of the first time she’d seen him fighting Shades, moving like a dancer through the night.

When Finn selected two knives and prepared to pass them through his belt, she turned to Jeff. “Sheaths?”

“Sheaths, yeah.” Jeff, who’d been staring at Finn, blinked and pulled out several from a drawer. He threw them at Finn who snatched them out of the air without missing a beat.

Jeff whistled, brows rising into his hairline.

Finn lifted his shirt and took off his belt to attach the sheaths, and Ella had to drag her gaze away from his perfect abs. She resisted the urge to fan herself. Whoa, baby. How hadn’t she noticed the night before?

Oh, right. Finn, passed out in her car and then her couch, covered in blood. His abs hadn’t really been the first thing on her mind.

“That looks like a nasty wound.” Jeff nodded at the stained bandage on Finn’s side, and she made a mental note to check that too, later. Soon she’d need an organizer for all those mental lists.

Finn buckled the belt and sheathed his knives. He looked up and grinned. His smile was startlingly beautiful and she found herself gaping — again. God, get a hold on yourself, girl.

“Like a porcupine,” she muttered, her own lips lifting in a matching smile. It was nice to see Finn happy — or at least pleased with his weapons. “What about guns?”

“Here, Finn.” Jeff lifted a Heckler and Koch USP CT pistol for inspection, a calculating gleam in his eye. What was he going for? “Semi-automatic, lightweight and accurate. Give it a try.”

A concentrated look on his face, Finn stepped forward to receive it. She opened her mouth to ask if he knew how to use it, but she needn’t have worried. He checked the magazine, and when Jeff threw him a shoulder holster, he pulled it on, tugging on the black leather straps as if he’d been doing it all his life.

Jesus. Who was he anyway?

The straps pulled on the neckline of his t-shirt, exposing a swath of muscled chest and his left shoulder. Before he adjusted it, a mark drew her eye, sort of like a starburst. A birth-mark?

“Have you used one of these before?” Jeff beamed at Finn, obviously considering him a kindred spirit.

“Similar one,” Finn grunted. He sheathed the pistol in one of the two holsters hanging over his ribs and folded his arms. Armed to the teeth, legs spread, head bowed, he looked ready to take on a whole army of Shades.

Jeff winked at Ella. “Well, well, Elly. Where did you find him? Ex military, is he?”

That was a thought. Might also explain why Finn was so mum about his identity and past. “Thanks, Jefferson. Now we can go to the lab. Finn?”

Finn lifted his head, his gaze unfocused. “At your command,” he whispered, shoulders tensing, back straightening, and the funny thing was he didn’t seem to be pulling her leg at all.

***

“It’s a piece of white skin,” Jake the lab technician said, motioning at the report on his desk. “Thick and tough like an elephant’s hide.”

The small laboratory had a contract with the Paranormal Bureau, all the better for keeping their secrets. No other technicians were in today — just the three of them among the white counters and shelves laden with vials and bottles.

“An albino elephant?” Ella made a face.

Jake chuckled and scratched his clean-shaven chin. “Yeah, well...”

“If the skin’s so thick, how the hell did Simon grab a sample?”

“We think the creature might be molting; shedding its epidermis. You know, the way snakes do as they grow. Anyway, that’s our working hypothesis.”

Ella rubbed her face. “And the analysis?”

“The DNA analysis suggests something vaguely similar to a reptile. There was a little bit of sequence similarity there, but a lot of it doesn’t match anything we have in our databases.”

She scanned the report. Simon’s weapons hadn’t been used, his gun hadn’t fired, his knives were clean. As if he’d been caught by surprise.

Finn was leaning against the wall, hands shoved in his pockets. “The skin, does it have any feathers or scales?”

Jake blinked up at him. “Who are you?”

“Finn. He’s with me,” Ella said. My new, sullen partner.

“Right.” Jake looked Finn up and down. “And how did you...? Nevermind.” He cleared his throat. “There was a scale attached to it, coated in an iridescent film, much like—”

“Where is it?” Finn pushed off the wall with a grunt.

Jake gestured at the microscope. “It’s there. Help yourself.” He turned to Ella. “I was going to tell you, but first we wanted to be sure—”

“No worries.” Ella kept her eyes on Finn who bent to look through the lens. When he straightened, he was a new shade of pale. “Finn? What is it?”

“We thought of snakes, albino snakes, some new species,” Jake was saying, “but the claw marks discount that possibility, and the—”

“Freki,” Finn said. “Wolf.”

Jake gaped, then grinned and wagged a finger at Finn. “Oh, that’s a good one. Scaly wolves. That’s funny, that’s...”

Finn didn’t look amused; in fact he managed to look both pissed and horrified. His eyes were wide. “Inguz dyr,” he hissed, or something like it, spitting it like a curse. His nostrils flared, and his hands twitched against his sides. “Adramar.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

Finn shook his head and limped toward the door, still muttering.

A perfect partnership.

“What’s going on?” Jake glanced from Finn’s retreating form to Ella and back. “What’s up with him?”

Damn if she knew. “Jake, you’re sure you’ve never seen anything like it?”

“Not that I can recall, no. I’ll have to go through the archives, see what I can dig out.”

“Do that. Let me know if you find anything else.” Ella grabbed her backpack and strode outside, through dim corridors and the empty lobby. “Finn? Wait.”

***

The snow that piled up overnight had melted, leaving muddy pools and dirty patches. Finn stood by the car, hands fisted at his sides, staring into the distance. She came around to face him. His gaze was bleak.

“Okay, Finn, spill.” She laid a hand on his arm and he recoiled. She let it drop. “What’s that scale?”

Finn grimaced. “The Gates,” he whispered with a shuddering breath. “Too late.”

“For what?” Cold born of fear spread its tentacles inside her. “Are you saying something came through a Gate and got Simon? Whatever it is, I’ll kill it.”

He gave a bark of laughter, short and bitter. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“But you obviously do, so talk to me. What’s Adramar?”

“The Queen.”

“Queen of Aelfheim?”

“Aelfheim.” The way he pronounced the word was odd — drawn out but the consonants harsh, infused with longing, sorrow and anger all at once.

“What of Aelfheim?”

“It’s... a cold world.” Finn stared blankly ahead, his hands clenching and unclenching. As if on cue, snowflakes drifted down, catching in his hair. When had it started snowing again?

“Finn?”

He shuddered, as if coming out of a dream. “The cold age lasted forever. Snow and ice. When the frost didn’t end, when the snow reached a man’s height, the People looked for another world.” It sounded like a passage from an epic, lines learned by heart.

“People?”

“Aelfar. Through the Gates, they first sent the small ones — f+frildia ok fuglar.”

“Insects. And birds?” Her Old Norse was a little rusty. “Why the hell are you talking to me in a dead language?”

“Then they sent their animals.” His voice dropped. “Frekar, nadrar, drekar.”

“Frekar.” She frowned. “Wolves. Wolves, snakes and dragons?”

He peered at her, strands of silvery hair blowing across his face. “Yes. The white animals of Aelfheim crossed, and then the Boreals.”

“You’re saying that’s what’s happening? They’re getting ready to cross?” She swallowed, her throat gone dry. “You could be wrong. Maybe it was something else.”

“Wishful thinking.” A tremor went through Finn.

Damn, the rising breeze was icy-cold. “Let’s get in the car.”

Ella squelched her way around the car and climbed inside. She waited for Finn to take his seat, her hands resting on the wheel, and gave him a sideways look. She opened her mouth to ask more questions, but he raised his hand to stop her.

“Sh.” Finn leaned forward, his gaze narrow and focused like a laser beam. Then his breath hissed out and he gripped the dashboard, making it creak. “Drive.”

“Look, this isn’t—”

“Vaettir.” He reached up and yanked out his pistol. “Shades.”

“What?” It took her a moment to comprehend, then something smashed into the windshield. With a gasp, she revved the car, set it in reverse and backed out into the street. “What the hell?” And just when Finn had finally decided to start talking. Figured.

A hunchback goblin intercepted them and she spun the wheel to avoid it. Cars honked and pedestrians jumped out of the way. Another hit broke one of the back door windows.

Finn raised his pistol, twisted in his seat, and fired through the rear windshield, smashing it. The goblin staggered, then faded. Cold air blasted through the broken window.

“Go,” he snapped.

Why hadn’t she heard the Shades arrive? She stepped on the gas and sped down the street, trying not to look over her shoulder. Finn fired another round, then climbed into the back seat.

“Finn!” What was he doing?

A growl sounded so close to her ear the hairs on her nape lifted. The car shook. Goddammit, something was inside with them. She tried to see in the rear-view mirror, but all she saw was a tangle of limbs, human and leathery goblin-like. Fuck.

A honk brought her attention back to the road and she swerved to avoid a frontal collision with a van. Finn yelped and she glanced around, her heart pounding in her throat. A blade flashed, and then she had to turn to the street again, just in time to avoid climbing a sidewalk.

Something smacked into her seat, throwing her forward. Blades swished and Finn grunted, crashing into the back of the other seat. A leathery fist closed around his arm and hauled him out of sight. Damn. The car rocked, its springs whining.

Seeing a parking space at the street side, she threw the car into it and pulled the handbrake. Drawing her knife, she twisted around and barely escaped a blow from a clawed hand.

“Down!” Finn shouted, long knives slashing through the air. She ducked behind the seat as a screech filled the car, threatening to burst her eardrums.

When she peeked around the backrest, there was only Finn kneeling, his knives dripping clear ichor. He looked unharmed, and Ella’s heart settled a little.

“No warning,” she said and he lifted his gaze, focusing on her. “First time I get no warning Shades are coming. No sounds, no wind blowing. Nada.”

He looked down at his knives, then bent to retrieve his pistol from the floor.

“Thanks,” Ella said with sincerity. “I owe you again.”

Hands shaking only a little, she sat back behind the wheel and waited as Finn clambered forward to join her, his movements slow and clumsy. He straightened his leg with a soft groan and cradled his swollen wrist against his chest. Lines of pain had formed around his mouth. Damn, he looked exhausted.

“So,” she said, “how do you know all that stuff about Aelfheim?”

Finn glared at the dashboard, lips pressed together.

She leaned over and buckled him in, then looked up to find his clear gaze on her, so close. A flush warmed her cheeks.

Straightening, she belted herself in and took the wheel. “I mean, how do you know Aelfheim is cold? And that the elves would send these white animals through?”

Finn shrugged and winced. He turned his glare outside.

Right. He’d reached his word limit for the day, apparently.

Pulling out into the street, she checked in the rearview mirror, making sure no Shade was lurking on the back seat or the street. It was clear. Heaving a sigh of relief, she drove away, already hearing the police sirens. Let them handle the panicked people. At least nobody had died.

And Finn... Glancing at him, she saw his head dip forward. Fear seized her chest. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he slurred, blinking blearily. His color was good, she decided, relieved. He was just falling asleep, in spite of the cold air rushing through the broken windows.

He’d probably overdone it; after last night he should be resting, not fighting Shades. She’d take him home, check the wound in his side, make sure it was not bleeding.

Then she remembered the paper with the code in her pocket. “Shit. I need to pass by the library. Won’t be a minute.”

Finn stirred briefly, blinked twice and dozed off again, the lines of his face smoothing out. He slumped against the safety belt.

She smiled, not sure why. “You’re a good partner,” she informed him, knowing he probably couldn’t hear, and forced her attention back on the street. “You really have my back.”

Fighting the Shades with him by her side made her feel light and strong and able to do just about anything. If only Simon was alive...

Spirits dampened, she sped across the city, aware she was following the last route Simon had taken on the day of his death.

Chapter Three

F+frildia

Stevenson Library was housed together with a number of real estate companies and lawyers’ offices in an old neoclassical building decorated with pillars and gargoyles. Poplar trees lined the wide sidewalk and a parking lot sign flashed. Full, of course.

She parked in a street side. The moment she opened the car door, Finn came awake with a jerk, hands going to his knives.

“Hey,” Ella said, zipping up her jacket. “How are you feeling?”

He struggled with the seat belt as if he didn’t know what it was. His borrowed shirt and jacket were covered in ichor. He reeked of it, bitter and toxic.

She put a hand on his shoulder, pushed him back. He got that confused look again that stirred emotions inside her chest, the warm fuzzy kind she didn’t know what to do with. “Tell you what. Why don’t you stay here and sleep a bit longer. I’m just going to check out a book and I’ll be right back.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“They won’t let you in like this, so why try?” She glanced outside at the falling snow. “After I’m done here, we go to your place so you can change into clean clothes, all right?”

Before he could protest again, she climbed out and closed the door. He blinked at her from inside the car, still belted in, pale hair catching the light.

Reluctantly she left him and entered the building.

The stucco and pillars of the facade continued inside, at least as far as the lobby where a bored-looking guard gave her half a glance. She passed him and scanned the building map. Escalators led up to the sections of literature, history, politics and law. Other signs pointed to poetry, folklore, women’s studies and medicine. Then she spotted the place she needed to be and headed off. A moment later she was on the elevator heading down to the medieval literature section.

Somehow she always ended up underground.

The librarian’s name was Miss Cobble, according to the tag pinned to her lapel. She glanced at the paper Ella handed her, at the book code penned in Simon’s neat handwriting, and shook her head. She pushed her golden-rimmed glasses up on her tiny nose. They slid down immediately. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have it?” Disappointment swamped Ella.

“Oh, it’s here. But I can’t lend it out.”

“Fine. May I see it?”

“Do you have a membership card?”

Ella’s patience had been thin to start with; it was see-through now. She fished out her badge and shoved it in the woman’s face. “How about this one?”

“Huh.” The librarian gave her a disapproving look. “Not a week ago this young man came and did exactly the same. Flashed his police badge around, trying to impress me.”

Ella swallowed. “This young man... Was his name Simon? Simon Esterhase?”

“Esterhase, yes.” She looked down her nose at Ella.

Ella turned away. Her eyes stung.

“I’ll make an exception this time,” the librarian said, “but bear in mind that without a membership card you can’t take the book out.” She led the way to the shelves, the paper with the code clutched in a small hand. “What is the sudden interest in this story anyway? We only have a copy because we specialize in Norse literature.”

“What is it about?”

“You want a book and don’t even know what it’s about,” the librarian grumbled. “It’s a saga relating a visit from the aesir and the arrival of the aelfar.”

Ella’s heart beat faster. “And the title?”

“Here.” Miss Cobble pulled out a thin volume and handed it to Ella. “Grarssaga. The saga of Grey.”

The hell? “The saga of John Grey?”

“Yes, I believe the name is mentioned.”

Breath caught in her throat, Ella studied the faded green cover of the book. John Grey, the one the Shades couldn’t stop talking about. Damn it, Simon, why didn’t you tell me what you knew?

She flipped the book open, leafed through it. No note from Simon fell out, no mysterious symbols. It would’ve been too easy. She sighed. Had she made a mistake? Had Simon not meant for her to see it?

It didn’t matter. It was the saga of John Grey. Answers lurked within its pages. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take it with me.”

“I said you can’t—”

“People’s lives depend on it.”

“On an old Norse saga?” The librarian lifted her chin and huffed, clearly not buying it.

Ella held the old woman’s gaze, fury building in her chest. “Yes.”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No,” Ella agreed, “you don’t.”

***

Coming out of the library building, Ella squinted, momentarily blind. Thick snow drifts swirled by, obscuring the trees and other buildings. Crazy weather. Last she’d checked, it was still September, change of the season into autumn when the leaves turned pretty colors and the sky was a perfect blue.

Not this year, it seemed; winter had entered all at once. She thought of Finn in his thin borrowed clothes and shivered. That had to be rectified.

Her car was covered in snow, the windshield opaque, so she couldn’t see him. Yet, as she trudged to the driver’s side, she thought she saw swarms of white moths fluttering on the air.

But it was just the snow, spinning in eddies. Spirals in spirals, like the afterimages of a dream. Shaking her head, she opened the car and slid into the dim interior, pulling the door closed.

A rustle, and a cold blade pressed against her neck. Her heart jolted and she opened her mouth, but a hand clapped over it. Scent of spice and honey.

Sliding her gaze sideways, she found Finn’s face. His eyes were wide and unfocused, as if he was sleepwalking.

Her lips moved against the rough texture of his palm. “Finn?”

Seconds slipped by.

Then the hand lifted and the pressure of the blade left her. Finn blinked, looked around, then tensed again. “Where is this?”

“I was at the library. You must have fallen asleep again.”

“The snow.” He gestured with his knife at the white surrounding them.

“Freak weather. Happens.”

“It’s a Gate opening.”

She gaped at him. “Are you saying...”

“The snow is coming through.” He scowled. “And it won’t be all that passes.”

A Gate. Should she believe it, believe he was right? He spoke of scaly wolves and Gates, but where was the proof?

It was ice-cold inside the car. She revved the engine and flicked on the heater. The wipers whirred against the windshield, letting in hazy light.

Finn seemed to glow, too, a faint luminescence that rose from his skin like mist. Ella squinted. His hair glimmered as if Christmas lights were caught in them, tiny dots of brilliance, and his face burned. Designs swirled on his hands.

Then he turned away and the glow faded.

What the hell had that been? She’d seen the glowing lines on his hands and forearms before, but never so bright. Her hand had gripped her gun; she let it go and reached toward Finn, to shake the truth out of him.

He made a small noise in the back of his throat and a shudder went through him. His lips looked blue. Fuck. Glowing or not, he was freezing his ass off.

Shrugging off her jacket, she threw it over him and cranked up the heating. “Do you have warm clothes at home?”

Finn scowled, although he made no movement to push off the jacket covering him. “I’m fine.”

“It’s freaking snowing.” She gave the thick flurries outside a pointed look. “How about a jacket, mittens, a scarf? Thick pants?” Or how about you tell me why you were glowing like a goddamn firefly a moment ago?

Finn said nothing. She thought back at his dirty clothes; they’d looked like he’d slept in them for days. “Do you have a place to stay?”

He shook his head. “I’m fine,” he repeated.

They really had to work on Finn’s definition of ‘fine’. “You were sleeping outside, weren’t you?”

Finn shrugged.

“What happened to you?” She looked at his hands which shook against his legs. “What about your family?”

He snorted. “Family,” he spat.

Oh, that good. Well, she could relate; her family was as dysfunctional as it went. She pressed her lips together, swallowing the questions she really wanted to ask. The snow swirled outside. It was going to get much chillier. And snow or not, no way was she leaving Finn out in the cold.

“You’re coming home with me.”

Finn didn’t look at her. “No need.”

“You’ll freeze to death.” She bit back a groan of frustration. Too stubborn or too proud? “Come on, Finn. For my sake.”

“No.” The word was pushed through chattering teeth.

“Listen.” She pulled out of the parking space, the wipers swishing against the glass. “You’re doing your part. Helping me, keeping me alive, giving me information.” She licked her dry lips. “This is the least I can do.”

When he didn’t protest again, she smiled.

***

Under its white blanket, the city was unrecognizable. Pedestrians hurried along the sidewalks, wearing hoods and colorful scarves, leaving dark footprints in the snow.

Finn sat in inscrutable silence as they reached her neighborhood and parked in a side street, his face blank but tense. He limped so badly when he got out to follow her that she decided the stairs were out of the question. She rarely took the elevator — it was so small it gave her a mild sense of claustrophobia and carried memories of injuries when she’d been forced to use it, but today it would serve its purpose.

Missy scratched at the door as she struggled with the key, and meowed pitifully when she succeeded in opening. “Hey, kitty.”

It took the space of a second, as Finn crossed the threshold, for Missy to transform from a cuddly kitten to a hissing ball of electric fur.

“Whoa!” Ella stared at the tiny demon showing little sharp teeth, then turned to Finn. “Do cats always like you so much?”

Finn lifted a pale eyebrow and didn’t comment. Right.

Giving the kitty a wide berth, Ella led the way into the living room, sighing in pleasure at the warmth. She shrugged off her jacket and blew on her hands to warm them.

Finn stood at the edge of the plum-colored carpet as if not sure what to do with himself. Rolling her eyes, Ella strode over to him, grabbed his arm and dragged him to the couch.

“Sit,” she said. “I want to have a look at your leg, and your side.”

“I’m okay,” Finn said automatically.

Yeah, yeah.

She pushed him until he sat and went to fetch her medic kit from the bathroom. Sitting by his side, she set it on the table and turned to him. He inched back on the sofa as if she’d grown claws.

“Shirt,” she said. “Up.” Huh, maybe Finn’s monosyllabic language was starting to rub off on her. When he didn’t move, she took things in her own hands and lifted the hem of his shirt.

“I’m—”

“Yeah, I know,” she snapped, untaping the gauze from his side. “You’re fine. Just humor me and sit still for a moment.”

He glanced at the door, then back at her. Ready to turn tail and run. She put a hand on his arm, the muscles under her fingers strung like cables.

“I’m just going to have a look,” she said, voice low, calm, keeping her movements slow. “Okay?”

Ice-blue eyes bore into hers. Then the tension left his body and he nodded.

The butterfly bandages had held and the slashes hadn’t reopened. Some blood had trickled out but it wasn’t much. Relieved, she packed fresh gauze over the wounds and taped it in place.

“It looks good.” Although new bruises were already forming on his chest and sides from his tussle with the Shade in the car. She felt along his ribs but he didn’t flinch. Nothing serious, then.

His skin was soft under her fingertips, and warm, and...

And she really shouldn’t be thinking of how good he’d look shirtless, not now. Get your mind out of the gutter, Ella.

Finn was watching her with round eyes, and she grinned. “What? Has nobody patched you up before?”

A light flush rose to his cheekbones. He set his jaw and glared at the far wall.

Was that a no? Damn Finn and his lost boy moments. It made her want to hug him, and that was out of the question.

“Now the leg,” she said and slid down to kneel by his feet. She undid his laces and pulled his boots off, letting them thump softly on the thick carpet. “Which one hurts?”

Finn grunted.

She tapped his left knee. “Is it this one?”

He stretched out his right leg with a wince, and she rolled up his pants to have a look.

Ow. She ran her fingers over the thick, dark ropes of scars running from knee to ankle, and her leg twinged in sympathy. “Dammit, Finn. What happened?”

He jerked, almost kicking her in the process, and squirmed backward until he was brought up short by the backrest.

She tightened her hold, waited until he settled against the cushions. “What did this?”

“Accident,” he ground out.

“It must have been bad. Bones broken?”

He shivered, let his head drop back. She pressed her thumbs into his shin, against the tibia, and he stilled. The bone wasn’t entirely smooth; a little misaligned. The fracture hadn’t healed perfectly. Made her wonder how he was able to move so gracefully when fighting. With the cold and wet, it had to hurt like hell.

“Can you fix it?” he whispered and her head snapped up.

Short of breaking it again and realigning the bones, she couldn’t think of anything. But she was no expert. “Perhaps a doctor could help.”

The hope faded from his eyes. He jerked his leg out of her hands and proceeded to glare at her as if she’d insulted his mother.

Oh, jeez. “No doctors, got it.” She was becoming an expert in decoding Finn’s glares. Simon would be proud.

Simon. A weight crushed her chest as memory rushed back. Soon there would be a memorial service, and then a funeral. Simon would be lowered into the ground, and she’d have to accept he wasn’t coming back. Ever.

A knock roused her. Finn sat up and drew his pistol in one smooth movement, pointing it at the door. There came another knock, soft and timid.

“Shades don’t knock,” she muttered and gestured at Finn to lower the weapon. He ignored her.

Hoping he wasn’t too trigger-happy, she moved toward the door. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, Mike.”

She opened and Mike practically fell inside, his short dark hair standing on end. Frigid air rushed in as she pulled him inside and leaned on the door. “Damn cold.”

Mike stilled, faced with Finn. “Is he going to shoot me?”

Finn lowered his gun, brows twisting in a frown.

“It’s my neighbor, Mike,” Ella said, crossing over to the heater and practically sitting on top of it. “The clothes you’re wearing are his boyfriend’s.”

Finn remained blank.

“Hey.” Mike sauntered over to the sofa, apparently taking the lowering of Finn’s gun as an invitation to get cozy. “Hiding hot boys in your apartment and not telling me?”

Finn gave a slow blink and shifted an inch away from Mike. His finger twitched on the trigger.

“You’ve got Scott,” Ella countered. “I’ll tell.”

“Ah, well. Scott and I...” Mike sighed, looking dejected. He threaded his fingers through his short hair.

“Mike.” Ella shook her head. “He barely moved in. Give it time.”

“But that’s the point.” Mike leaned back. “He barely moved in and he’s already reorganizing my apartment, my wardrobe and my whole damn life!”

Simon had tried that, too, to bring some of the order of his life into her messy one. Hadn’t worked out. “What about the Voices? Is he okay with that?”

Mike’s shoulders slumped. “He doesn’t like it. Says I ought to go see a specialist. A shrink.”

Finn cast her a questioning glance.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Mike is an oracle. He hears the Shades.”

Finn’s eyebrows lifted.

“I’m also an accountant by day. Very exciting, isn’t it?” Mike winked, then seemed to notice Finn’s boots lying on the carpet and his socked feet. “Hey, erm. I hope I haven’t interrupted anything?”

“No, you haven’t,” Ella said quickly. “Cross my heart.”

“Oh, good.” Mike grinned. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“Mike, meet Finn.” Ella waved a hand at him. “My new, temporary partner.”

A hesitation, then, “Partner, huh? What about Simon?”

“Simon’s...” She drew a shuddering breath. “He’s dead.”

“Dead?” Mike paled and sat up. “Oh, I’m sorry, Ella. Shade attack?”

She shook her head. A knot had lodged in her throat. It made breathing hard.

“And here I am, coming to you with my stupid problems.” Mike got up, mouth pinched. “Really sorry.”

“It’s okay. Ella managed a deep breath. “Hey, um. Would you like a coffee or tea...?”

“No, thanks. I’ll just be on my way.”

She went after him. “Mike, wait. Have you heard anything else that could help us?”

“Not really, sorry. Although...” He paused by the door. “They did mention that word I told you again.”

“Boreal?”

“Yeah.”

Finn grunted and leaned forward, eyes gleaming with interest.

“That’s Finn’s way of asking what they said,” Ella said. She shrugged at Mike. “He does that a lot.”

“I see. The strong, silent type.”

Finn did a fine impression of a deer caught in headlights. Ella’s lips twitched despite herself.

“Well, it sounded like the Shades hate the Boreal, whatever it is.” Mike rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t ask me why. Something about a Gate.”

Finn harrumphed and finally clicked his gun’s damn safety on. “The Boreals are People.”

Mike frowned. “People?”

“I think he means elves,” Ella muttered.

“Really.” Mike squinted at Finn.

“They’re the high lords of the Home,” Finn said. “Dragonlords.”

“And the Home is...?” Mike asked.

“I think he means Aelfheim, the world of the elves.” She stared at Finn. “So you’re saying the Boreals are some sort of high elves.”

Finn nodded.

“All right,” Mike said. “Elves. Of course. And how do you know all this?”

Finn scowled. “History lessons.”

Oh, right, of course. Ella rolled her eyes as discreetly as possible. “What else can you tell us about the Boreals?”

Finn leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Boreals are born to the royal houses of the Silver Mountains. Trained to do battle in ice, to use energy-harvesting machines, and ride the drekar, the snow dragons. Centuries ago, they were driven out of Aelfheim by advancing glaciers and endless storms. They tried to invade Midgard. This world. As you know, they failed.”

“And now they’re coming back,” Ella breathed.

Shit.

Chapter Four

Frekar

Fast food would save the world if the elves didn’t take it first, Ella thought as she paid the delivery boy and carried the boxes of chop suey inside. She closed the door on the chilly breeze and shivered while crossing over to the living room table. Mike had promised to find Finn something warmer to wear from Scott’s closet, but they’d have to go shopping for clothes sooner or later.

She set the food down and went in search of Finn. The sound of blades being honed drew her to the bathroom. Oh yeah. Finn priorities. About to fall over from exhaustion, but who cared when there were knives to be cleaned and sharpened?

“The food’s here,” she called.

He didn’t even look up, focused on his task, the whetstone screeching against the metal of the blade. Had he heard her?

Shrugging, she returned to the living room. She wasn’t all that hungry herself, not since she’d been told of Simon’s death, and even less since seeing his body at the morgue.

It was barely midday and she was bone-tired. With a sigh, she curled on the sofa and pulled the book from her purse.

Grarssaga. Simon had been dating an oracle. No wonder he’d realized before all of them what was going on. Sarah, his girlfriend, was at the hospital. Ella wondered if someone had informed her that her boyfriend was dead, torn open by a...

She swallowed hard, chased the images from her mind. She opened the book, but the letters swam before her eyes. Torn open by a wolf, according to Finn. A white, scaly wolf. The picture just wouldn’t form. Scaly? What the hell? She couldn’t recall ever reading any description of the animals of the aelfar.

Or it was all in Finn’s mind. Maybe something perfectly mundane had killed Simon; maybe the lab had been wrong about the DNA.

Yeah, and pigs could fly.

The saga opened with the usual genealogy of an obscure king called Sirurd, a description of his Hall and lands, his exploits against his neighboring kingdoms and the wife he stole from his best friend in a bloody fight. So typical. Then came his complaints about his thieving subjects and descriptions of the feasts he provided his buddies after hunting.

Bother. She rubbed the aching spot between her eyes. Who knew weeping brought on such a headache? Add to that a sleepless night and worrying about Finn, the Shades and the fate of the world, and it was no wonder she felt like a spike was driving into her skull.

She flipped past pages of useless information about another king’s visit and the fun the both of them had — she hadn’t known you could do that to a roasted pig and now she wish she hadn’t — and stopped at the first mention of the aelfar.

They had been visiting Sirurd, apparently on a regular basis. They were treated as guests of honor and then came long pages of the magic the aelfar displayed for the enjoyment of Sirurd’s guests. They juggled crystal spheres that hung in the air like stars, and created arches of pure light that changed colors. Music played without instruments, and withered flowers bloomed afresh in the vases. They also brought fantastic gifts — jewels unlike any Sirurd had ever seen, pearls which glowed with an inner light, and animal pelts like white velvet. In return, they asked him to host in secret one of their party, one called John Grey.

Ella paused with her finger marking the name in the text. Why would the elves want Sirurd to hide John Grey? As Dave had said, the only other mention they had of John Grey was a warning. Beware. Dangerous. Powerful, for sure. How would hiding this person in a small lord’s hall serve them?

Lots of blather followed, transcriptions of songs sung around the long tables, and a brief mention of this John Grey, sitting apart, silent. No description, no comment whether he was a Shade, what his power was.

Damn.

Mike came bearing gifts — a sweater, a scarf, thick pants and socks, even gloves. Ella thanked him, distracted.

What was the role of John Grey? The text didn’t offer much in way of information about him. For several pages he was forgotten in favor of more fireworks by the elves, and descriptions of a few of their female company. Apparently elven ladies were beautiful like fresh snow and yet warm like mead. Ella had a good idea of how Sirurd knew that, and wondered if these alien ladies had gone with him willingly or were forced in order to show good will.

Because, apparently, they really, really wanted Sirurd to hide John Grey. Why Sirurd? Why John Grey? Why this whole game?

Damn, the headache was like rusty nails being drilled into her forehead. She flipped another page and stopped. Apparently Sirurd was no idiot: he had the exact same questions.

The elves didn’t give an outright reply. That would’ve been too easy. They hedged and extolled the beauty of human women, their virtue and honor. Ella snorted. Hypocrites. She spread her fingers on the page and frowned.

The elves apparently wanted to ask for the hand of Sirurd’s daughter for John Grey.

Ella shook her head, nonplussed. Again, why? If they wanted an alliance, why not seek out one of the great Kings of the time? Could it be that Sirurd’s lands had special properties?

Sirurd gave a long speech about his daughter’s virtue, the strength of the elves, the honor they bestowed upon him and the cartloads of gifts he expected. And of course no mention of the girl’s opinion anywhere. It didn’t matter if she was willing or not, and that was one of the things Ella hated most about the epics. She was glad to be born in the twenty-first century, thank you very much.

The elves gave their own long-winded speech after Sirurd was finally done, assuring him he’d get the trinkets he wanted, the stupid git, and that they were most overjoyed he agreed to their terms.

Terms?

Ella bent over the text, flipped a couple pages back. What had the elves demanded? Tracing the words with her finger, she found it: they wanted Sirurd to let them examine his court and every guest crossing his doorstep before they ever approached John Grey and his daughter. In fact, the couple would live in a special building the elves would construct, a sort of tower.

Heh. Interesting. John Grey was powerful. But maybe he wasn’t invulnerable. Maybe he could be harmed, even killed.

It gave Ella hope.

The elves briefly explained that there were people out to harm the couple’s happiness. Not humans, in fact, but what they called Duergar of Dokkalfar.

Apparently, Dokkalfar also came from Aelfheim, but they easily passed off as humans. Few things could pick them apart in the crowd, but the elves advised how to do it. It wasn’t easy. Apparently, for one, there was an angle from which they showed their true nature.

Sirurd asked what nature was that. Dark, the elves answered. Dokkalfar. Dark elves.

Yeah, as if that meant much. Dark of skin? Or what?

Sirurd clarified he wasn’t talking about the Dark elves but the Duergar that had been mentioned. Good man.

Okay, so apparently Duergar and Dark elves weren’t the same. Duergar didn’t sleep. At all. They didn’t eat.

And then there were the spirals. The word was underlined several times, and in the margin, in a familiar looping handwriting, stood her name.

Ella let the book drop on the coffee table and sat back, her hands starting to shake. What the fuck? Why had Simon marked it? What did he know about her dreams?

Finn wandered in, startling her. He spotted the food and grabbed a box of takeaway. He dug in with his fingers, eating so fast he might choke, and froze when he caught her eye.

“There are chopsticks,” she said, “inside the plastic bag.”

He gave her a blank look. With Finn, nothing was self-evident.

Mouth settling in a hard line, she picked up the book once more, determined to find out what was said about the spirals. But of course the elves didn’t elaborate. Didn’t need to explain, because they themselves would guard Sirurd’s lands and John Grey; they would pick out the Duergar and stop them from approaching.

Dammit. She pulled off her hair tie, pushed her fingers into her hair and massaged her scalp. Her head ached. For every answer, two new questions. Useless.

Then her phone rang, and it was the emergency tone. She grabbed it, flipped it open. “Ella.”

“Get your new partner and get over here,” Dave rumbled over the line. “We’ve got a situation downtown.”

Finn looked up, took in her expression and dropped the takeaway box on the table. “Trouble?”

“Yup.” Grabbing her gun, she checked it was loaded and sheathed her knives and shuriken. Put the book back in her purse. Glanced at Finn who was strapping on his weapons and sighed. “It just never ends.”

***

Chaos was the only word that could describe the situation in the town center. Amidst the swirling snowflakes, people ran in panicked circles. The place wasn’t far from the library where they’d stopped with Finn earlier, but it was unrecognizable. The streets were jammed with cars, drivers honking and shouting, trying to leave. Useless, of course. Too many cars, too many people.

Where was Dave?

Someone tapped on her window and she rolled it down. A chubby woman dressed in police uniform. She looked familiar.

“Martha?” Ella asked. “Martha Graham?”

Martha pushed her glasses up her nose. “Ella Benson.” She didn’t look overly thrilled to see her again. Could be because yesterday — was it just yesterday? — Ella had taken Finn out of jail without an explanation.

“Dave called me. David Holborn.”

“He’s here.” Martha pointed in a direction from which more and more people came, running as if hellhounds bayed at their heels.

“Stay here,” she told Finn. After seeing his leg, she wanted him to rest it if possible. “I’ll be back.”

She hurried out and tried to take stock of things. No clicking in the air, which meant no Shades. Probably. One shouldn’t forget that the last time they’d appeared without warning. “What’s happening?”

“Animal attack. Maybe more than one animal. Killed three people already.”

“What kind of animal?”

But Martha had already turned away, marching to a group of passersby and gesturing for them to leave.

Someone screamed in the distance, where Martha had indicated, and Ella started running, hoping her hiking boots wouldn’t slip in the melting slush. As she raced toward the origin of the repeated screams, she drew her gun and cocked it.

More people spilled from the narrow passage between two buildings, and she shoved them to get through, brushing along walls covered in graffiti and slogans, trying to see beyond. Her pulse beat in her forehead, hammering between her eyes. Damn cold.

Then she was through. Wellington Square, she realized. Open space, a cluster of trees on one side, white residential buildings behind it. A deserted playground greeted her, an empty swing rocking eerily in the silence.

And bodies, scattered on the frozen ground, dark stains around them. Blood.

She turned in a circle, gun held up. What the...?

A growl and a scream had her spinning and aiming. Something blindingly white streaked across her vision, a splash of crimson, and she was looking at a writhing body, its chest torn open.

And a wolf. Well, a wolf-shaped animal, as tall as she was, covered in shiny white scales. It took a step toward her, leaving bloody prints in the dirty snow. Ella stared, frozen, her mind refusing to process what she was seeing. There was something bird-like about it; it had a beak. The scales on its neck and flanks shifted as it took another step, shimmering like shards of mother-of-pearl. Yellowed fangs glinted wet inside the toothed bill, dripping saliva and blood.

Ella’s finger trembled on the trigger. “Motherfucker.” That thing had killed Simon, torn him open. Her heart boomed.

The wolf hissed and advanced on her, snapping her out of her daze.

She took the shot. The wolf jumped sideways, and then leaped on her, knocking her to the ground. The impact shook her body and a terrible weight crushed her chest. The world blacked out.

Next thing she knew was loud growling, a deafening screech, and a familiar voice shouting, “Watch out!”

Finn?

Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes, stared up at the falling snowflakes. Pretty.

Then memory returned like the crack of a whip. Shit. She sat up. Her knee throbbed. The headache had been upgraded to a head-crushing vice, and she had a moment to wonder if one could call it a migraine if it hurt on both sides of her brain — then she saw Finn.

He was a silver hurricane, blades spinning and flashing, hair flying as he turned and slashed and fought — what? Two animal shapes moved on either side of him, half-vanishing in the white, outlined briefly against the dark facades of buildings, then melting again into nothingness.

“What the hell are those things?” came Dave’s voice from behind her, and she twisted to make sure it was him.

It was; the same grumpy, bleak-eyed, unshaven Dave.

“Wolves from Aelfheim.” She scrambled to her feet and found her gun a few feet away. Stumbling toward Finn, wobbly on her feet, she took aim. But he was in the way, blades moving in graceful arcs, cutting swaths through the falling snow, and the creatures were near invisible. Damn.

Two officers moved in the distance, holding heavy machine guns, covering the other side of the square. How many of the creatures were there?

Dave followed her, gun raised. “They don’t look like wolves.”

“They don’t look like anything,” Ella muttered, coming as close as she dared to the flurry of snow and blades that was Finn. “Dammit, Finn, move out of the way so I can get a shot in.”

Finn threw a knife into the vague shape of a wolf. Before he could turn, the other wolf reared over him, toothed beak gaping.

“Look out!” She shot in the air as she ran toward him, hoping to scare the creature off.

Then another screech sounded — from behind. Holy shit. Ella spun and fired before she was even sure she’d seen the third wolf. The animal crashed to the ground, whining, blood dripping down its side, painting it crimson against the colorless background. She shot it again, in the head, making sure it stayed down.

A shout rang and her heart stopped. “Finn?” She turned, seeking him in the snow drifts. Flakes weighed her lashes. She staggered in the direction she’d last seen him, her pulse drumming in her ears. “Finn!”

“Ella, are you okay?” Dave tried to intercept her. “Slow down. Backup is almost here.”

She twisted away and kept moving. “Where is he? Damn you, Dave, you left him alone with the wolves?”

A tall form appeared through the swirling snow, and she raised her gun, unsure. Squinting along the barrel of her gun, she took aim.

It was Finn. He was hunched over the bloodied body of a wolf, muttering something. Strands of pale hair had escaped his bandana, hiding his face.

“Well, I can see now why you wanted him as a partner,” Dave wheezed, joining her. “I’ve never seen anyone fight like that. Not even Simon.”

Ella took a step toward Finn, her pulse thudding in her ears. So much blood pooling around him, a lake of crimson. She had to make sure the wolf hadn’t gutted him, that the blood wasn’t his. Images of Simon’s torn body kept flashing before her eyes.

He straightened, eyes unfocused, raising his knife. His lips peeled back in a snarl. “Back.”

“Hey.” She eyed the knife warily. “It’s me, Ella. Snap out of it.”

Finn shuddered, blinked. The knife lowered. Then he looked around and his gaze stopped on Dave. His shoulders tensed.

“You were fighting two wolves,” Dave said. “I only see one dead body.”

“It got away,” Finn rasped. When Dave took a step toward him, Finn flinched. He was acting all weird.

Dave holstered his gun, his face hard. “Where did you learn to fight wolves, son?”

“It’s Finn,” Finn snapped but his voice shook.

“I’ve rarely seen people fight that way, and this sort of reaction afterward. Ex-military, though you look too young to be a veteran. Who the hell are you?”

Ella inserted herself between Dave and Finn. “Hey, calm down.”

“He’s under my payroll now.” Dave jabbed a finger at Finn. “If he’s military, I want to know. I don’t like secrets.”

“Dave.” Ella took his arm and pulled him a few steps away. “He’s just fought off two wolves, killed one, saved a bunch of lives, and he’s not even steady on his feet. He hasn’t had any downtime at all since yesterday. Give him a break.”

“Now you’re telling me how to do my job?” Dave’s face flushed red with anger. “I’m your goddamn boss!”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighed. “But he’s my partner, and truth be told, I need him.”

Chapter Five

Drekar

The place crawled with police. Yellow tape was wrapped around poles and posts, marking the crime scene. Martha was calling out orders, cordoning off the streets and alleys radiating from the square to keep gawkers out.

The engines of helicopters flying overhead tore the air apart and created vortexes of snow. There were police helos and those of news stations, come to cover the story. News vans were arriving, but they were stopped before they reached the square. Journalists argued with police officers, trying to sneak through. Cameras flashed. Ambulance sirens wailed. EMTs were gathered around those wounded. A tent had been erected over them to keep the snow out. The dead, already zipped in black bags, waited to be taken to the morgue.

Ella rubbed her aching ribs. Nothing broken, the EMTs had assured her, but she’d be bruised black and blue come tomorrow.

Could have been worse. She could’ve lost a limb, or even died. If Finn hadn’t been there...

She turned to look at him where he knelt in the snow, cleaning his knives, his bandana drawn low over his eyes. An EMT approached to check on him and he glared until she retreated to a safe distance. He went back to his task, his hands red and chafed, blood trickling from a cut in his cheek down to his jaw. He didn’t seem to feel it or care.

Same old, same old.

Meanwhile, Dave paced in the snow, vibrating with controlled anger. “This can’t be happening,” he muttered. “If the Gates are open...”

“Dave, the Gates are open. You saw the wolves.”

“But what about fairy rings? Lights in the sky? What about the signs?” He growled. “Dammit all.”

“So what’s the plan?”

“Plan? We never planned for anything like this. The Gates weren’t supposed to open again. Haven’t opened for over half a millennium.” Dave sounded disgusted.

“But you must have a contingency plan, right?” Ella waved at the chaos around them. “In case the elves came back?”

“I’ve notified my superiors. They’re trying to convince the government that army deployment may become necessary. For now, they consider the attack an isolated event.” Dave scrubbed a hand over his face. “If this is true, if the Gates have opened... Well, if the epics are to be trusted, we’re in for a treat. The elves are real bastards. The Snatchers, people called them back then. Aelfadl, nightmares. Disease-bringers, death-dealers. Raping the women. Killing folk. One of their favorite pastimes was stealing healthy human children and replacing them with sickly ones of their own. Changelings.”

From the corner of her eye she watched Finn who’d stopped cleaning his blades for a moment, as if listening. Or about to pass out. With Finn it was hard to tell. “And what happened to the kids they stole?” she asked.

“We don’t know. Lost forever.”

“But the elves fear iron, right? With iron weapons we can—”

“No, that was our mistake. The Shades fear iron. We confused the Shades with the elves, but they’re not the same.”

So they had no advantage over them? Ella’s hands clenched into fists. “Finn says worse things will come through.”

“Worse than the elves? Is that even possible?” Dave’s eyes flashed. “Like what?”

Finn raised his head and shot him a wary look. “Dragons,” he said, his voice frayed and low.

Dave turned to Ella. “Is he serious?”

“I’m afraid so.” Finn was always serious.

Dave huffed, ran his fingers through his short hair, dislodging snow flakes. “Well, I’m not sure which is worse.” He scowled at the dead wolves. A team of lab technicians in white coats hovered over them, deciding on how to transport them for examination.

Ella said nothing. She noticed Finn shiver as he sheathed one of his bowie knives. It seemed they couldn’t catch a moment’s rest, and Finn’s energy would sooner or later run dry. She thought of the warm clothes Mike had found him, still in a heap on the sofa, the boxes of chop suey on her table. It was time to go home.

“If you’d told me about dragons yesterday I’d have laughed in your face,” Dave muttered. “But after these... wolves,” he nodded in the direction of the creatures, “I’d expect anything. So, fine, dragons. How do we fight them?”

She turned to Finn, but he was staring at a point in space. The lines around his mouth had deepened and she didn’t know if it was pain, exhaustion or something else.

“They’re apparently creatures of the cold,” she said, “winter coats and all. With the out-of-season snow, we’re at a disadvantage.”

“Well, the army’s coming,” Dave snapped. “They’ll slaughter the dragons and anything else that comes with them.”

“You can’t win this fight,” Finn rasped, stirring.

“Bullshit.” Dave gestured at the frozen landscape. “The elves came before. They didn’t manage to conquer us when we were languishing in the dark ages, armed with stone axes.”

“Steel,” Ella muttered.

“What?”

“They had steel axes then.”

“Point is...” Dave turned to Finn. “They failed before and that was the Middle Ages. We have technology now, we have big guns.”

“And you think they don’t?” Finn gave him an incredulous look. “You think only you made progress over the centuries? You asked why no fairy rings appeared, no lights, no warning. Don’t you think that by now they know how to disguise their arrival? Will you walk right into their hands, as naive and unprepared as your ancestors were?”

Ella opened her mouth and snapped it closed. That was quite a speech by Finn’s standards. And what he said... Dear god, elves with technology. “But what about magic—?”

“Magic and machines. Together. I said you can’t win.” Finn looked down at the throwing knife he’d been cleaning. “You won’t...” The knife fell from his hand. He stared at his shaking hand as if it didn’t belong to him.

“That’s it,” Ella said, worry tightening her chest. She’d determined Finn wasn’t bleeding to death but he wasn’t in a good shape, either. “We’re going home, now.”

“You can’t go,” Dave said.

“The hell we can’t. We’ve been at it like machines since yesterday, and with Simon’s death...” She drew a breath. “We’re done here.”

“I mean...” Dave hesitated. “Simon’s memorial service is in one hour.”

Damn. If Dave had told her, it had completely slipped her mind. “Then I’ll drive Finn home and meet you there.”

“I’m fine,” Finn said, predictably.

“No, you’re not. You’re beaten to hell and back,” Ella informed him in case he’d missed it. “If you’d only let the EMTs check you...”

Finn scowled. “I fight with you.”

“And I make sure you don’t drop dead of exhaustion.”

Dave cleared his throat. “Ella, you know you won’t make it in time to the service if you swing by your place first. All the roads downtown are blocked. Just saying.”

Finn gathered his knives and sheathed them. He stood, wiped his hands on his pants and folded his arms over his chest. Arched an eyebrow, cocked his head to the side.

Two against one. Oh, man. Ella sighed. “All right, fine.”

***

The memorial service was a simple, sombre affair, in the Japanese Gardens behind the Town Hall. Ella knew why Dave chose the place: it used to be Simon’s favorite haunt.

The Bureau was there, as were officers from other departments. Simon’s friends. Martha was among them, and oddly it made Ella feel better. She didn’t know many of the other officers and she felt she stuck out like a sore thumb — covered in mud and spattered with blood, one of her sleeves torn. No wonder she was garnering odd looks.

They stood inside the small pagoda while snow fell silently all around, blanketing the trees and the shore of the small lake. The other officers whispered among themselves as they waited for Dave to say a few words.

Sarah, Simon’s girlfriend, stood behind Dave, holding a bunch of white lilies in her gloved hands. Dressed in a black dress and matching coat belted at the waist, high heels and a hat, she looked like a picture from a fashion magazine.

She caught Ella staring and nodded in greeting. Swallowing hard, Ella looked away. She hadn’t known Sarah had been released from the hospital. Had Simon been happy with this woman? Had he been happy with Ella as his partner?

I hope you were, Simon. The knot in her throat kept growing until she thought she wouldn’t be able to breathe ever again.

Dave cleared his throat and the whispers ceased.

He spoke of Simon’s courage and kindness, of his humor and many talents — in languages, in art, in music. He was the soul of parties, the one with all the answers.

All Ella wanted right now was to hide in a deep, dark hole and forget. It wasn’t true Simon was dead. It wasn’t possible. It’s a lie! she wanted to shout. Please.

As she stepped out of the temple, the others walked up to her, indistinct faces, gripping her hand and offering condolences. For her partner, her friend. She scuffed the layer of snow with her boot. Dirt and snow and ash — flakes spiraling down, landing on her lashes.

‘We’re so sorry, Ella, so sorry.’

Yeah. As if they had any idea... She forced herself to reply, to nod, to get through this. Simon had no other family. Old Greary, his uncle, was dead, and if this was the last thing she could do for Simon, then by god she would, even if all she wanted was to run away.

A glance over her shoulder showed her Finn standing like a bodyguard at her back, arms folded, scowling at everyone. A wisp of warmth curled inside her chest. Suddenly she was thankful he’d insisted on coming.

Dave turned to her as the others filed away. “It’s a dark day when an agent dies,” he said. “And I’ve lost too many lately. Good officers, all of them.”

She’d known some of them. Couldn’t imagine them gone. Couldn’t grasp the concept of Simon’s death.

“We’re going to have a drink in Simon’s memory at a bar downtown,” Dave was saying. “Are you coming?”

She shook her head.

He flicked her a worried glance. “Will you be all right? Would you rather grab a cup of coffee or something instead?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She felt chilled. “Home sounds good right now. Didn’t catch much sleep last night, and the cat needs to be fed or she’ll shred the furniture.”

“What about him?” Dave nodded at Finn who’d followed and stood a few paces behind.

“I’m just helping him settle in the job.” She blew on her hands. “Until he gets a paycheck, you know. He’s new in town.”

Dave squinted at Finn against stray sunrays that had broken through the clouds. “There’s something off about him,” he muttered under his breath.

“Because he fights better than you and me? Or because he’s prettier than either of us?”

Dave snorted. “He’s just... an odd one, Ella. And he knows too damn much.”

A chill traveled up her spine. She’d been wondering, too — where he’d come from, who he really was. Still... “Give him a chance. You saw how he fought today.”

He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. “Well, if you need anything, call me. I’ll try to keep you off the roster tonight, let you have some rest.”

“I appreciate it, Dave.”

Dave shook his head and left with long strides, flakes catching in his short hair and reflecting the light.

So, Simon. This is goodbye. The service made it official. She rubbed a hand over her eyes. No, she wouldn’t weep again. Enough tears.

“Ella?” Tottering on her high heels, Sarah approached her. She’d placed her bunch of lilies by the lake and now she wrung her gloved hands together.

Ella tensed and forced herself to nod.

From up close, bruises showed on Sarah’s face, dark smudges under the thick makeup. Her cat-like eyes were sad. “I’m sorry about Simon.”

“Me too.” Her anger had seeped away. What did it matter if Simon hadn’t told her he had a girlfriend? It was all over now. “How are you holding up?”

Sarah shrugged and gave a hesitant smile. “Still in denial, I guess. Can’t believe he’s gone.” Her smile faded. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Sure. What about?” Her thoughts turned in circles, the image of Simon’s torn body at their center.

“About the guardians.”

That snapped Ella’s attention back to the present. “That’s what you said back at the hospital, isn’t it? Guardians of the Gates?”

“I did?” She frowned. “Can’t remember. Well, the Shades keep mentioning them. I thought you might want to know. Duergar, they call them.”

Duergar. The ones the elves would protect John Grey from. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. “Are the guardians Shades, too? What do they guard?”

“That’s not clear.” Sarah chewed on her lower lip, getting red lipstick on her teeth. “But one thing is: they’re always mentioned in connection with you.”

“With me?” Ella asked, surprised. She studied Sarah’s open face. “This makes no sense.”

“I know.” Sarah nodded. “It sounds crazy. But it’s what I’ve heard from beyond the Veil.”

Ella shifted her weight on the snow, slipped her hands into her pockets. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure of what I heard. Whether or not it’s true...” Sarah shivered. “I don’t know what these guardians are, or what they’re supposed to be doing, but it seems...” She glanced around as if to check for eavesdroppers. “It seems they’re keeping an eye on you. Have been, for a while.”

Ella grimaced. “They’ve been following me?”

“Since you were a child.”

Ella took a step back. The black void of her childhood had never seemed so ominous. Spirals and fear. “What for?”

“I honestly don’t know.” Sarah tugged on her wide-rimmed hat, shadowing her gaze. “As I’ve told you before... be careful.” She shook her head. “Unless it’s already too late.”

“For what?” Ella whispered, but Sarah turned and walked away, wobbling slightly on her stiletto heels.

Goddammit. Ella rubbed her chest, that damn knot still lodged somewhere in there, making her feel sick and cold.

She turned to Finn and found him staring somewhere to the right — at a mother and her little boy who were piling snow to make a snowman. They laughed, the sound ringing clear in the quiet.

“Ready to go home?” she asked.

He met her gaze, his blue eyes hooded and full of unexpected pain. But before she could ask what was wrong, he shrugged and started on the path leading out of the gardens.

***

Finn reluctantly agreed to wait in the car while she popped into the pharmacy-cum-health food store. She hunted for iron tablets, vitamins and painkillers, and pain-relieving gel for Finn’s leg. She also grabbed a few energy drinks and bars, and bandages and Band-Aids. She had a feeling they might need more, soon. Knee bands made her pause, and she picked two. They even had sports underwear and socks, and she selected a couple for Finn, hoping she’d guessed his size right.

Oatmeal drew her eye and she balanced a package while she grabbed a carton of soy milk. She was pretty sure she had sugar and cinnamon at home. Maybe Finn liked oatmeal?

Finn.

She paid and paused at the store exit. Outside, the snow whirled in eddies. More spirals. She gazed at his dim form seated in the car. Who was he really? Ex military or something stranger still? Tired and way too skinny, beaten up, his mouth set in a thin line—whoever he was, he looked like someone who could really use some warm food and a good night’s sleep.

Someone who had her back at all times.

Gripping her bags to her chest, she returned to the car. This time she didn’t find a knife at her neck, but the pistol lay in Finn’s lap, half-covered by his hand, and Ella had no doubt it was cocked and ready.

Finn was looking at her sideways, his almond-shaped eyes a crisp blue-gray, his high cheekbones flushed, his mouth a perfect small bow. He looked so... elfin right then, as if he’d dropped out of a fairytale. Which was ridiculous. The Gates had barely opened. Muscles rippled in his arm, straining the fabric of his shirt, when he lifted the pistol to holster it at his side.

“What is it?” he bit out.

Oh yeah, no staring. Bad girl. “Here.” She handed the bags over and forced herself to focus on driving safely home.

She caught glimpses of Finn, of course, from the corner of her eye. He drew her gaze like a bright light. He sat quietly, staring out of the window, the brown bag of purchases between his legs. His eyes fluttered closed, his head dipped forward. He had no reserves; too stubborn to stop to rest. Fair hair brushed his cheek, ruffled by his breathing; his bandana was slightly askew. Why was he so adamant in always keeping it on?

Curiosity got the better of her. She reached out, lifting the bandana with a finger.

He twitched, hand going to his head, and she jerked back. He pulled the bandana down to his brows. Shot her a dazed glance, then nodded off once more, pale hair sliding forward.

She swallowed hard and turned her attention back to the street. Was she being paranoid? Maybe Finn was simply ex-military. Maybe the bright lines she’d seen on his face and arms were fluorescent tattoos, or some new, fancy tech used by the army.

Yeah and maybe he was a Buddhist monk on a pilgrimage. Nice try, Ella.

Deserted streets, faceless buildings. Not even stray dogs were about. The cold had driven everyone indoors. She drove to her apartment, parked the car as close as possible and took a deep breath before tapping Finn’s shoulder, keeping an eye out for his knives. Wouldn’t surprise her if she found his blade at her throat again.

But he barely flinched. Relieved, she reached over to grab the bag of groceries, and having survived that, she went around and opened Finn’s door.

He blinked up at her, all sleep-frazzled and slow, and it made her smile.

“Come on, Finn. Time to look after you.”

“No need,” he rasped. He managed to undo the seat belt, but getting out of the car seemed to present some difficulties. Either his leg was stiffer now, or he was still too fuzzy from sleep to get his feet under him.

“Let me help you out.”

“No.”

“I’m your partner,” Ella said, leaning on the door. “Friend,” she drawled, thumping a fist on her breastbone when Finn didn’t react. “Ally.”

That won a soft snort out of him and he let her pull him out. He even cracked a tiny smile as they made their slow way toward her building — both limping. Such a matching pair of human wrecks.

“There will be warm food, and a heater, and blankets,” Ella muttered, a promise of comfort as much to Finn as to herself. The cold sliced like a knife. “Even TV, if Missy hasn’t chewed through the cables again.” She snorted. “I know, right? She thinks she’s a dog sometimes. We’re a strange family.”

Dragging Finn to the building entrance, she checked her protective wards against the Shades, then those on the elevator. “And I still have some Frangelico liqueur left over. Have you ever had it?”

Finn said nothing as they rode up, but she took his blank stare as a ‘no’. Man, that was like living without chocolate; such a bleak world.

“You’ll love it.” They finally reached her door, and she let herself inside the apartment. Miss Meow trotted toward her eagerly, then froze when Finn entered.

Not again. “Come, kitty. Got you some food. Nice, good kitty.” Missy followed her to the kitchenette, jumpy and flat-eared. Thankfully Finn didn’t follow; he stayed in the living room while Ella deposited the bag on the counter, gave her dusty, filthy kitchen a disgusted look, and dished out the smelly food Missy found so appetizing into the kitty bowl.

“See, kitten?” Hands on hips, she looked down on Missy who was making happy growling noises as she ate. “All’s fine.”

Except she’d seen Simon on a morgue slab, and there were freaking beaked wolf-creatures roaming the city, the Shades were stronger than ever and the aelfar were about to invade. Not to mention talk of some weird guardians keeping tabs on her since childhood. Just awesome.

A noise from behind made her turn. Finn hovered at the door, eyes flicking this way and that.

Snap out of it, Ella. “Have a seat.” She gestured at the living room. “I’ll prepare something to eat.”

Missy hissed at him, tail raised like an antenna, then managed to walk backwards into the wall and spook herself even more.

“Tell you what.” Ella fished the new underwear and socks from the bag and handed them to Finn. “There are clean clothes on the couch; Mike brought them in earlier today. Why don’t you go have a hot shower while I put something quick together?”

Finn gazed down at the black briefs and the socks, still with the label on, then back at Ella. His mouth worked without sound and a dark frown drew his brows together.

“Er.” Heat licked at her cheeks. “Look, I thought you might need something clean to wear. Not, you know, that you couldn’t pick your own, but since I was there...”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll pay.” He frown grew darker. “I don’t—”

“Hey, don’t sweat it. You can do it as soon as you get paid, okay?”

Missy hissed again, and with one last wary look at the kitty, Finn nodded and left the room.

“He’s a nice guy, Missy,” Ella whispered as she unloaded her spoils — the oatmeal, the milk, the Band-aids and other assorted pain relievers. “You’ll like him when you get to know him. He likes to act all tough and stuff, and he really kicks butt when he needs to, but he’s also quite nice and thoughtful.”

Missy growled and went back to her bowl to investigate if any more food had miraculously appeared. Ella took pity and dished out some more. Through the door, she heard the shower running.

Finn. In her shower.

Damn. Definitely not the train of thought she needed right now. Grabbing the bags, she unloaded them on the counter. Okay. Oatmeal. Even with her limited kitchen skills she could manage that much. She put the milk to warm up in a pan, stirred in the oatmeal, added the sugar and cinnamon, and inhaled the aroma.

Why hadn’t she cooked anything in so long? The smell made her think of lazy Sundays and warm sunlight. Made her feel calm.

Like Finn. He made her feel stronger, more grounded. Needed. Simon never needed anyone. He was the one who always gave and gave, always there to lend a shoulder to cry on, a helping hand, a solution to a problem. Always in a good mood, no dark cloud cast by his past, no problems in his life.

But Finn radiated need. Those sad glances, that stubbornness, that lack of self preservation...

Was that how Simon had felt with her? That urge to protect?

Shaking her head at herself, she lowered the heat, stirring the oatmeal one final time and pulling out two bowls. Finn did depend on her for certain things — small but important stuff, like food, bed, someone to check him when he was hurt. But he also took care of her in important ways — like keeping her alive, no small feat lately.

She filled the bowls and covered the remaining oatmeal. Yeah, let Finn lean on her a little. She owed him that much. And it made her glad.

Chapter Six

Truth

“Food’s ready!” She carried the bowls to the coffee table and went back for spoons, water and the pills for Finn. She threw away the cartons of cold Chinese food; the noodles and meat had formed congealed lumps and Missy had managed to open one and spill half of it. She cleaned up the mess, spotted the Frangelico liqueur and placed it on the table with two small glasses. Almost festive.

Here’s to you, Simon. She swallowed past the lump in her throat.

Then Finn walked in, his bare feet silent on the carpet, and her brain blanked. He looked really good in black, his wet hair brushing those broad shoulders, though he also looked much paler, like a ghost. Under the bandana, his eyes flashed when he caught her gaze.

She nodded at him, irritated when heat rose to her face, and pushed the tablets toward him. “Better take them with the food.”

He sat across from her, stretched out his bad leg and glowered at the pills, not moving to take them.

“They’re just iron, vitamins, minerals. And some strong painkillers.” He deserved to have a good night’s sleep. She poured him a glass of water and forged on with the one-sided conversation. “Bottoms up. Trust me, you’ll feel better within a couple of days.”

He took them. Then he grabbed his bowl and dug into the oatmeal, and that was the end of dinner-time conversation as far as Finn was concerned. Further attempts to find out if he liked the oatmeal, if he wanted water, if she should turn up the heater and what he thought of her cooking efforts fell on deaf ears, until he finished and practically licked his bowl.

She opened her mouth to tease him about it, but shut it again. He’d been starving. It wasn’t funny at all.

She managed half her oatmeal, then set the bowl aside. Her mind buzzed as if she’d drunk ten cups of coffee.

Finn gave her bowl a long look and she pushed it toward him. “There’s more,” she had the time to say before he snatched the bowl, emptied it and scraped it clean.

Then he glanced at the kitchen.

Okay, so starving had been an understatement. She got up and fetched the pot. “All yours.”

Finn hesitated only for a second. Then he acted pretty much like Missy with her food. He all but growled as he attacked the rest of the oatmeal, flinching when she made any sudden movement as if afraid someone would take it from him.

Which conjured all sorts of unpleasant images concerning his past.

He finished the last spoonful and slumped back on the cushions, eyes closing, a hand resting on his stomach — relaxed, a slight flush to his cheeks, his breathing slow.

And she had that warm feeling in her chest again. Damn. She picked up the bottle. “Here.” She poured them both some liqueur. “A toast.”

He reached blindly for the glass and sniffed the drink. “What’s this?”

“Sweet hazelnut liqueur. Italian.” She raised her glass. “Here’s to surviving the wolves.”

The sugary goodness flooded her mouth, exploding against her taste-buds, and she sighed in pleasure.

Finn downed his in one go. Such a waste of good liquor. She served him another while she sipped hers and watched it go the way of the first.

Finn weaved a little before managing to slam his glass back on the table. He wiped his nose with the back of his hand and flashed her a brilliant smile.

Whoa, baby. Beautiful. And heh, a tipsy Finn.

Ella grinned. The liqueur was relaxing a knot that had held her chest since Simon vanished. “So, buddy, tell me.” She toasted him. “Who are you?”

He looked confused, pale brows drawn over his eyes. “Finn.”

She snickered. “Yeah. And where do you come from?”

“The mountains,” Finn said, muttering something more under his breath.

Right, right. She put her glass on the table. “Where you learned how to hunt scaly wolves with beaks and dragons and stuff.”

If possible he looked even more confused. “What?”

Huh. The subtle approach didn’t work, either. “And you were in the army. What happened then?”

“I left.”

Oh yeah. Simple as that. She checked the bottle. Still some liqueur left. Nice. “And then what, you wandered the world, saving damsels in distress from Shade attacks?”

Finn sighed, leaned his head back. The lines around his mouth and eyes were smoother now. “I worked in a small town. Served tables. Washed dishes.”

Finn, a waiter? Ella chuckled. A good one, Finn. Wait, Finn didn’t do humor, right? “Where?”

“Blackwater.”

She’d been there; it wasn’t far. “So if you were cozy and warm, what made you leave your nest for the big city lights?”

“Shade attacks. I put people in danger.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “Couldn’t stay.”

“Wait a second...” She sipped from her glass, let the warmth spread down her belly, her back. “You make it sound as if the Shades are after you.”

He laid his head back again, sprawling on the cushions, and closed his eyes. “Yeah.”

“And why the city? Why not go back to the mountains and the countryside?”

“Dreams,” Finn whispered. “Calling me here.”

A shiver rolled up Ella’s back. “Dreams? What about?” Something nagged at her in what Finn had said. Wait a sec. The Shades were after voyants and oracles, and Finn was certainly a voyant, but they’d only just determined there was a pattern to the attacks, and Finn made it sound as if he’d known for some time. “When did they first come after you?”

Finn mumbled something, head lolling to the side. Ella sighed. Conversations with Finn tended to be on the short side.

She studied his face, the pale lashes resting on high cheekbones, the small frown drawing his brows together even in sleep. Getting up, she guided him to lie down.

He jerked awake. “Ella?” he mumbled.

“It’s okay. Rest. I’m here.”

Her voice seemed to relax him once more. He sighed, eyes falling shut. She carried over a blanket to cover him in case he was cold, but heat radiated from his body in waves. She set the blanket aside.

Ah hell, maybe all he needed was to rest. Maybe afterward he’d talk to her.

Hope sure died last.

***

Ella stood under the hot water spray, letting it beat on her aching shoulders. Mud and blood swirled down the drain as she rested her forehead on the cool tiles and tried not to think, not to remember.

An exercise in futility, of course.

She’d hoped the shower would help her relax and sleep. But it wasn’t working. The fuzziness of the liqueur had worn off, leaving her strung like wire all over again. Looked like it’d be another sleepless night.

Dressed in her jeans and a long warm sweater, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she stood by the window watching the snow flurries against the night sky. Alone with her thoughts. She hadn’t planned on it, and didn’t want it, but she wasn’t going to wake Finn to distract her. Unfortunately, with Finn occupying the couch the TV wasn’t an option, and sleeping was out of the question. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Simon’s mutilated body, saw the strange wolves, beaks dripping blood. Saw Finn crouched, his gaze unfocused and blank.

Heard Dave’s words about the elves. Children-snatchers. Cruel and blood-thirsty. A war to come. The army.

And spirals after spirals spinning in her mind, a feeling of dread and memories lurking underneath the surface of consciousness, waiting to pounce.

Maybe she should go out for a midnight walk. Or read. Yeah, maybe read.

Missy poked her nose out of the bedroom and meowed. The kitten gave the living room a once over, obviously didn’t like what she saw, and retreated. Ella sighed and followed Missy who jumped up and curled on Ella’s bed, blinking sleepily.

“Move over, kitty.” She settled on the bed and reopened the book she’d gotten from the library. What better opportunity to check if there was anything of use in its pages than now, since Dave had promised they’d have the night off? Besides, the endless blah-blah about Sirurd’s qualities and the elves’ wealth and all that showing off of power might lull her to sleep.

Apparently all Boreals were born with the gift of magic. Touching the energy of things, they called it, and that was how they created the magical feats that had astonished Sirurd and his guests.

Manipulating electric fields or something like that? Ella shook her head. Had to be spectacular, if true.

Then came descriptions of the elves, who had apparently fascinated Sirurd’s wife enough to make a speech about their beauty and unique appearance. Pale they were, as if carved of ice, for their world was cold and lying under eternal snow. Their eyes were grey and their hair almost white, their skin reflective so they could blend in the landscape and escape dangerous predators. Like arctic animals. Like... She flipped to the next page, the headache returning. Like Finn. Shit.

The elves explained they used to live underground while the ice storms raged on the surface of their world. But the dark elves fought them for dominion of the underworld and won the battle, exiling Light Elves to the surface. Their race was doomed, the elves explained. They hoped to make a new beginning in Midgard.

Missy sniffed the book, licked Ella’s hand and curled up in her lap, pushing the book aside. Ella petted the kitten absentmindedly.

White animals, Finn had said, from a world of ice. Pale elves, adapted to their environment. And Finn... Dave had called him odd, but neither of them had suggested... No. The elves hadn’t crossed over yet. Had they?

She got up, book in hand, and went to check on Finn. Passing in front of the window, she saw that the snowfall was turning into a storm. The clouds were dark and heavy over the city. Lightning sparkled in the distance, followed by the deep rumble of thunder. She shivered.

Finn groaned and curled tighter on the sofa, gripping his head.

“Finn?” She went and shook him. “Hey, Finn. You okay?”

He frowned, face pinched and body stiffening. Something was wrong. Nightmare? She lifted her hand to his face and her breath caught in her throat.

Blinding white lines swirled on his forehead, on his cheeks, on his chin. No, she wasn’t imagining it. She stepped back.

Then he uncoiled like a spring, bolting upright. He surged to his feet and grabbed her hands. “Out. We need to get out.”

“What? Why?”

“Gate,” he said and pulled her toward the door. “Can’t you smell it?”

“Smell what?” She sniffed the air and dug her heels in but he was strong. She managed to grab her bag as he pulled her toward the door, stuffed the book inside. Her shoes squeaked on the tiles. “What are you doing, Finn? Are you out of your mind?”

“Fire.” He staggered but kept going until they were outside. “They’re here.”

“Who’s here?” She managed to slow Finn in front of Mike’s door, but he dragged her past. “Who, Finn?”

“The steeds of the Boreals,” he said, and she grabbed him before he fell down the stairs, pulled him back. “Drekar.”

Dragons. She stopped so suddenly she almost fell over. “No.”

“Yes.”

“And you smell them?”

“Yes! Now come on.”

“I have to get Missy. And you need to put on shoes.”

She ran back to her apartment and hunted for the kitty. Found her under the bed. Missy hissed and clawed at her hand, but Ella held onto her and Finn pulled them out again. At least this time he was wearing his boots.

“Mike.” She stopped at Mike’s door and banged on it. “Hey!”

“Ella!” Finn tried to pry her away from the door. “It will be too late.”

“Not going without Mike. Here, hold onto her.” She placed Missy in Finn’s hands and the kitty transformed into a whirlwind of teeth and claws. Finn cursed.

“Mike!” She banged again, and this time steps sounded. The door cracked open. Mike peered at her, a sleepy frown on his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Where’s Scott?”

“At work. He got a job in a bar downtown—”

“Come on.” She hauled him out, dressed in his pajamas as he was. “Finn says we’re in danger.”

“Damn.” Mike tried to turn around in her grip. “I need to get dressed. It’s snowing—”

“No time,” Finn said tersely. He handed Mike the hissing kitty, grabbed them both by the arms and marched them to the stairs. In passing, he hit the fire alarm and it wailed, deafening, as they ran down the steps.

“Shades?” Mike tried to see Ella’s face behind Finn’s back.

“Worse.”

They ran out into the melting snow, slipping and sliding. Something white streaked across her vision and she turned to follow its path over the building. Flames leaped from the windows of her apartment. Fucking hell. She’d have been roasted alive.

A dragon. Shit.

Finn was pulling her and she had no choice but to move. “The car?” he said and she pointed. He led them toward the side street where she’d parked that afternoon. It felt like years.

“Ella, what is that thing?” Mike’s voice had risen an octave. “It’s burning the building, and it looks like a...” He panted as Finn increased the pace. “Like a...”

“It’s a dragon,” Ella said. Starting to laugh now would probably be a sign of insanity, but, hell, there was a dragon on her building.

She craned her neck to see it. It stood on the roof on four legs, its snake-like neck rising against the clouds. White and shimmering like a crystal, it lowered its head and bellowed, the sound shaking the ground and shattering windows. Glass shards rained down around them, smashing on the street as they raced toward the car.

Screams rang from behind them. In the street, cars had stopped and the drivers had come out to see the dragon crouched on top of the building. Finn was muttering something unfriendly under his breath when Ella’s car came into view. It was, of course, blocked by the curious passersby gawping at the strange creature.

Ella wrenched her arm free of Finn’s grip and was patting her pocket for her badge, determined to get everyone moving as of right now, when a wave of ‘Ooooh’ went through the gathering crowd.

And then screams and panic.

She turned around as if through water. Everything slowed as the dragon swooped down. “Mike, take cover!” She grabbed him, pulled him behind her. Missy growled in his arms. “Where’s Finn?”

“Ella, look.” Mike pointed at a dark-clad figure running full-out toward the dragon.

She shook her head, trying to clear her vision. No, that couldn’t be... Couldn’t be... “Finn, dammit!”

She jumped after him before her brain had grasped the concept of Finn racing — toward — the dragon. Talk about a death wish! Then again...

“Ella, where do you think you’re going?” Mike grabbed her and hung on like an anchor. She’d never thought he was so strong. “Stop it. Handsome there is nuts. You don’t confront a dragon, girl!”

“Let me go!”

Finn’s knives flashed as he ran. His hair flew in all directions; he’d lost his bandana. Boy was he going to be pissed about that.

Ella pushed Mike off. The breath froze in her lungs as the dragon dived toward Finn, a streak of light, and then straightened. Its great feathered wings spread, glowing bright, and the dragon landed in a spray of snow that rose like a mist, obscuring Finn.

Ella’s lungs finally expanded in an explosive breath. “Finn!” And she was running toward him, drawing her gun as she went.

Mike screamed her name but it was swallowed by the booming of her pulse in her ears. Damn, she was too far and everything was lost in a haze. Then the mist of snow crystals fell like a theater curtain, revealing the enormous bulk of the dragon, lizard-like, serpentine.

Finn stood in the creature’s way. The light from a street lamp struck his hair, forming a silver halo. He held his knives out to the sides, the bowed blades catching the reflection from the snow.

She could hear him speak — a prayer? — but couldn’t catch any words. Just as she set off again, hoping to grab him and haul him back, he moved.

The dragon moved, too. Spreading its wings, it snapped at Finn with a cavernous mouth filled with razor teeth. Finn spun on the snow and slipped under the dragon’s neck. He came running out the other side but he didn’t seem to have hurt the dragon whose snake-like neck twisted to follow him. What the hell was Finn doing?

The dragon bellowed, huge claws gouging deep grooves where it stepped, white tail lashing around to follow its movement. Finn skidded, rolled, came up against a building wall and climbed to his feet.

The dragon took a thunderous step forward and blew fire. Ella’s scream died in her throat.

Finn wasn’t there anymore. He’d rolled again, coming up some feet away from the scorched wall.

Enough of this. Ella took aim at the dragon’s head, tightened her finger on the trigger.

The dragon flapped its wings and turned after Finn. Ella cursed, lowering her gun. The target — gone. If they kept moving so fast, she’d have equal chances of hitting the dragon or Finn. Damn again.

Finn ran across the street, raising puffs of snow, the dragon snout following right behind, teeth big as swords snapping on air with a crash and clack. Ella squinted down the barrel, trying to get a fix on something.

In vain. The dragon stomped after Finn, another crystal mist rising to hide both.

Hell.

She ran closer, trying to see through the icy fog. Movement, and then the dragon’s wings erupted from the white mist, iridescent, sending her stumbling backward. He towered over her, big as a house. She fired a shot, but wasn’t sure she’d hit anything. Where was Finn?

The dragon hissed, setting her teeth on edge, and its huge tail swished in the snow, sending a rain of slushy ice over her. She threw an arm up to cover her eyes. Cold water drenched her.

A roar that rattled her bones, and more ice flung her way. She wiped her face on her sleeve and looked up to see Finn climbing on the dragon’s back, between the wings.

Son of a bitch. With a shaky hand, she lifted her gun. What was he doing, goddammit?

Finn raised his knives. Was he going to stab the dragon in the neck? Where the hell did dragons have their hearts? She swallowed, waiting for Finn to do the impossible and kill a dragon single-handed.

Then the dragon squirmed and writhed like a giant frost worm, tossing its head, wings snapping open and closed. A final twist, and Finn went flying. He slammed into a wall and dropped.

“Finn!” Ella opened her mouth to call again, but the dragon stepped in her way. Her voice froze in her throat, and the sounds rushed out of the world, leaving it quiet except for the drumming of her heart.

She looked up and up at the white scales, to the dragon’s head and the slitted yellow eyes. Something shone above the head — a blade. Finn had stuck one of his knives on the crown, right into the dragon’s crest.

Then the dragon flapped its wings, one, two, three times and stomped forward. Ella threw herself out of the way just in time, the clawed feet thrusting inches from her face, as the dragon lumbered down the street, crashing cars in its path, and took to the sky. A bright streak like lightning, and the dragon was gone.

***

After an indeterminable time, the sounds rushed back. The sirens of the fire brigade, arriving to put out the fire and see if there was anyone trapped in the burning building. The voices of panicked people, and a bass woman’s voice telling them to stay away.

Water dripped from a pipe, a crystal noise.

Finn.

She turned as if in a nightmare, raising her gun. Saw him sprawled, a black shape, face down in the snow. Walked over to him, wading through the sticky webs of a dream, and knelt to turn him over, her heart pounding. He groaned, and her fingers tightened on the handle of her gun.

She could see it now, the slender elvish ear poking out of Finn’s loose hair. Leaf-shaped, tapering to a delicate point. Dark designs on it made her look closer. They looked like tattoos.

He blinked and she jerked back, pointing the gun at him. Her aim wavered.

“What did you do?” she asked, her voice thin. “How did you make the dragon go away?”

“Ella?” He blinked again as if he couldn’t focus.

Concussion, her mind whispered. Possibility of head trauma. She tightened her grip on her gun. “How did you drive the dragon away?”

He shaded his eyes and rolled on his side. Tried to sit up. “It’s a tame animal,” he rasped. “The aelfar ride them. Their crest is sensitive. I scared the dragon into submission.”

“You scared...” She shook her head. “Are you aelfr?” That was what the Nordic people had called them, back when the Gates opened in the north. Baby snatchers. Nightmares. Ella’s mouth trembled. “You are, aren’t you? A goddamn elf.”

Finn stopped his efforts to sit up, fell back into the snow and stared up at her. His eyes finally focused on her gun. “You’ll kill me,” he said, no emotion in his voice. A statement of fact.

Her hand shook on the grip. How could she harm him? He’d just saved her life again, for Christ’s sake — everyone’s life. He’d rushed the dragon on his own, almost died, to give the passersby a chance to escape before the creature attacked them.

But the aelfar were the enemy. “Are you an elf?” She wanted to hear it from his lips.

Finn’s lips pressed together. He turned his face away from her, but his words, when he spoke, rang crystal clear: “I’m a Boreal.”

THE END of EPISODE TWO

The Dragon

Episode 3

The Dokkaelfar wrought the Duergar race

From their own bones and the bloody sea, with iron cogs and spiral wheels

In the likeness of men the Duergar were made,

To guard the Gates and fates of men from the Ljosaelfar’s greed for power.

Chapter One

Boreal

Ella Benson watched the elf sleep. Not just an elf, though: a Boreal, according to his own admission, an elite member of the race about to invade her world.

An aelfr.

Finn looked peaceful on the narrow bed, his breathing even. Instead of his customary bandana, he now had a bandage wrapped around his head, from which ash-blond hair fell on the pillow, framing his face.

Elvish ears.

She touched the gun holstered at her hip, her insides clenching with fear and anger. He still looked like Finn — tall and strong, beautiful, vulnerable and in need of her help, but damn, what was she supposed to do now? The way he’d looked at her back at the alley as the dragon flew away, the deadpan way he’d asked if she’d kill him...

Dave had called earlier, checking on them, but she’d avoided talking to him. Hadn’t known what to tell him.

Swallowing hard, she let her hand drop and stretched her legs. For some reason, spending the remainder of the night and most of the morning in a chair hadn’t improved her mood.

Her apartment. Her belongings. All burned. Would she be compensated for her furniture and things? The insurance people still hesitated with a decision. Dragons weren’t listed among fire hazards, go figure, but in the end they’d given her the address of the motel to stay until the paperwork was drawn up. Now she thought about it, they hadn’t promised they’d pay.

Finn made a small noise and she leaned forward, drawing her gun. “Finn?” He had yet to wake up completely. He’d been out for many hours, it was about time he regained consciousness.

Not that she was worried about him. No way. Keeping a clear head was important. She could do this. “Finn. Wake up.”

He blinked blearily, glancing around, and the knots in her stomach twisted in new, interesting ways. What now?

Then Finn’s pale brows drew together and his jaw clenched. “Hospital?” he hissed.

Oh, right. The room was so Spartan it bore a resemblance to a hospital ward, she had to admit — and when Finn had seen the inside of one? “Not a hospital. We’re in a motel.”

Ella held the gun loosely at her side, waiting for him to make the first move. Questions hustled for space in the forefront — why hadn’t he used magic until now? Was it because he was going incognito? Would he use it and blast her to smithereens now his cover was blown?

“Finn?” She waited, her forefinger caressing the trigger, her heart pounding.

He focused on her and relaxed, slumping against the pillows. There was relief in his gaze. “Ella.”

She nodded, torn between happiness that he found her presence comforting and numbing fear. “What do you remember?”

Finn frowned. “Your apartment. Food.” His stomach rumbled right on cue and his cheekbones flushed.

God, how was she supposed to keep a clear head when all she wanted to do was hug him and wipe that look of confusion from his face? “And then?”

“Your neighbor came. Mike?” He shook his head, winced and brought a hand to his bandaged head. He frowned, tugged at the gauze lightly. “No, that was before.”

“Do you remember the dragon?”

Finn stilled for a long moment, his gaze sliding up to her face, then down to her gun. His brows knit.

Her breath froze in her lungs.

In one movement, he threw the covers off and jerked sideways, groping for something — his knives probably — but his face paled, going to green. With a yelp, he tumbled out of the bed.

Dammit! Wincing in sympathy, Ella hurried around the bed. He was obviously dizzy; concussed, most probably. The way the dragon had thrown him against that building, it was no wonder.

He was curled on the floor, arms around his middle, eyes scrunched shut. His breathing came in shallow pants. The old pajama bottom he wore, borrowed from Mike, had torn along one seam. The gashes in his side had reopened with his fall from the dragon’s neck; she hoped the new butterfly bandages would hold. His wrist was wrapped in gauze; sprained. His ribs were bandaged; cracked. A damn miracle he hadn’t also cracked his skull open. Tough bastard.

She chewed on her lower lip as he slowly sat up, peering at her under his pale hair. He leaned back until he was leaning against the wall and stretched out his legs, grimacing.

“I told you,” he murmured, his lips white.

She nodded. “You’re a Boreal,” she whispered.

His gaze went to her gun and his mouth opened and closed. They stayed like that for what felt like ages, their breathing the only sound.

“You lied to me,” she said and anger seeped back like hot poison.

He said nothing.

Well, to be fair, he hadn’t actually denied being aelfr, but he’d had plenty of chances to admit it.

And she’d had plenty of chances to ask. Briefly she wondered if she was more furious at herself than him. Squaring her shoulders, pushing down her worry, she said, “Time to start talking. You’re one of them. Working for them.”

“No.” He shook his head, seemed to think better of it and stilled, closing his eyes.

“Listen.” She crouched to be able to see him better, her gun pointing down. “We’re under invasion. By your kind. You said that the Boreals wouldn’t come through the Gates without sending their animals first — but you were here before they even arrived. So how am I supposed to believe anything you say?” It hurt to speak the words, to see Finn’s face close off, his mouth thin. “Are you their spy, Finn?”

“I swear to you I’m not.” His clear eyes blazed with indignation.

“Then why are you here? Better still, how? If the Gates are supposedly only just opening, how the hell did you cross over before anyone else?” Another thought struck her. “Or are there more elves here? Finn...”

He looked away, his jaw clenching. “I’m the only one.”

“Come now, tell me the truth.” Her fingers tightened around the grip of her gun. “How many—”

“I’m the only one,” he repeated, every word forced through gritted teeth.

“How did you get here?”

“I don’t know.”

Ella sighed. “You can do better than that.”

He drew a deep breath, hissed and pressed a hand to his side. “I’ve been here for more than a year now. I was doing fine. I was hoping...” He swallowed.

“Hoping what?”

He shrugged, a gesture of defeat. “Nothing.”

Her curiosity piqued, she stared at his blank face, trying to analyze the tiny flickers of emotion going through his eyes. Goddamn impossible to figure out, this man, and yet she wanted to understand him, to help him.

You’re hopeless, Ella. Hopeless. He’d admitted to belonging with the enemy, had mumbled some half-baked excuse about not knowing how he got there, and she still believed him.

When Dave found out... That gave her a chill. She somehow didn’t think Dave would want to hug Finn and let him go.

Holstering her gun, she scooted until she sat next to him. “You need to talk to me. What are you doing here?”

“Living.” It came out bitter.

“Why did you leave Aelfheim? Does it have to do with the invasion?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t know about that. I didn’t even know the Gates were real.”

“And you just popped through to this world one day and never looked back?”

“Yes.”

“That’s hard to believe, don’t you think?”

Finn didn’t answer. His shoulders tensed.

“How did you cross?” When he didn’t reply, she fairly growled in frustration. “Talk to me.”

A stretch of heavy silence.

“I was running,” he said, gaze firmly locked on the far wall. “They sent us to capture a Dokkaelfar tower, but it was a trap. Wolves came after us.” He rubbed at his chest, up and down, his breathing growing faster. “The trail was ending, destroyed by the advancing glacier.” He reached out a hand, as if to touch something. “A wall of ice. I turned. The wolves were coming at me, a whole pack. I knew I was going to die.” His hand dropped. “And then, suddenly I wasn’t... wasn’t there anymore.”

Ella frowned. “And where were you?”

He jerked, as if he’d forgotten her presence. “I was here.” He licked his cracked lips.

“In the city?”

“No.”

Dreams had called him to the city, she remember him saying before the dragon attack. “Where then?” she asked.

“In a quiet street, lined with trees. A small town.”

That simple. “And you have no idea how that happened?”

“I said no.”

“You know it sounds crazy, right?” She was crazy, even pretending to believe him, even listening to this shit. “Who created the Gate? Why won’t you tell me the truth, Finn? The whole truth?”

His mouth tightened. “I did.”

She got up, straightened her blouse, avoided looking at him. “I should give you to the authorities, to the army.”

He shuddered and looked away.

Dammit.

A coffee, that was what she needed to jump-start her muddled brain and sort things out in her head. Sort out the priorities. But she couldn’t leave Finn alone, not now. He might try to escape.

She had to tell Dave, of course, and then he would take over, interrogate Finn or turn him over to the military. That was her duty as an officer of the law, Paranormal super secret Bureau or not.

That was clear enough, wasn’t it?

Rubbing her arms, suddenly cold, she walked to the window and gazed outside at the swirling snow.

***

By the time Dave walked into the motel room two hours later, she’d made up her mind and some phone calls.

Pushing off the wall, she went to greet her squad leader.

“Are you all right?” Dave grabbed her arms and gave her a once over. He looked concerned, and it made her smile. “Sorry it took me so long to check on you. I had to take care of the chaos in the streets, and I was on the phone all morning with the Defense Ministry to organize our movements.”

“That’s okay.” She gently disengaged from Dave’s grip and turned to Finn who sat on the bed, arms folded over his chest. His cheeks were ashen and his face still but for a vein pulsing rapidly in his jaw. He swallowed hard, meeting her eyes for a second, then turning away.

“The dragon’s gone,” Dave said. “We can’t find any trace of the damn creature.” He gestured at her. “You are fine, right? They told me you were, but until I saw with my own eyes...”

“Perfectly fine.” She went to the door, opened it, glanced outside, and closed it. Leaned on it. “We need to talk.”

“Sure.”

“Look,” she said. “I want to talk to you about Finn.”

Finn made a small noise of distress. “Don’t—” he began, then clamped his mouth shut, shook his head and glared at the far wall. His hands clenched and twisted in the sheets.

“What’s this about?” Dave said, brows knitting.

“He fought the dragon off on his own” Ella said. “He saved many lives last night.”

Finn gave her a startled look, his hands stilling on the covers.

“I know what he did.” Dave straightened the lapels of his dark jacket and started to hum. “You think I wouldn’t hear of the stunt he pulled?” He pointed at Finn. “He’s on my payroll. Police officers aren’t acrobats.”

“No, their job is to save lives,” Ella bit out the words. “And that’s exactly what he did.”

“I see.” Dave’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll go out on a limb and assume you have a point with this, right?”

“My point,” Ella said, annoyed, “is that he saved my life, again, and many others besides. So maybe you could at least try and be civil to him. Treat him like a person and my partner, not talk as if he’s not in the room.”

“Dammit, Ella. I wasn’t trying to...” Dave huffed and shook his head. “I’m just worried and tired, that’s all.” He nodded at Finn. “Good work, son.”

“Finn,” Finn said, his voice just a breath. “It’s Finn.”

Back to the routine. And time to press Finn’s advantage a little.

“You know, boss...” Ella gave her sweetest smile. “How about an advance payment? He needs new clothes and we lost everything in the fire. What do you say?”

Dave gave her a suspicious look. “I don’t know if it’s possible. He’s not even officially employed by us.”

Ella shrugged. “Call it job expenses? You owe him as much.”

Dave sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Fair enough.” He turned to Finn who gaped like a stranded fish, his gaze going from Dave to Ella and back. “I’ll see to it,” Dave said. “Do you need more weapons, son?”

“Knives,” Finn croaked and turned to Ella. His gaze lingered on her, as if searching for clues. Then he swallowed and turned back to their boss. “And a gun. I lost mine.”

“Consider it done,” Dave said. “Well, if there’s nothing else...” He gave Ella a tight smile, tipped a nod to Finn, and left the room. The door clicked shut behind him.

Silence fell. It had an expectant quality to it, a big question mark flashing. Finn observed her under lowered lashes, his body strung tight with tension. As if he expected her to turn the tables again, call Dave back and tell him everything.

She picked up her cooling coffee from the window sill and took a sip. She grimaced at the taste. “As soon as you’re feeling up to it,” she said, “we’re checking out. I asked for Mike’s help while you were asleep. He found an apartment for us to look at.”

Finn clutched the bed sheets so hard she thought she heard them tear. He blinked rapidly, emotions fleeting over his face — confusion, fear, hope. She could read no trace of deception in his eyes.

He took a shuddering breath. “Why?” he asked.

Because I owe you my life and I can’t just throw you to the wolves. Because you deserve a chance to explain yourself. Because I want to trust you.

But what she said was, “I want you to talk to me. And this time I want the whole truth.”

***

It was a day later, a day spent between meetings with the insurance people and buying the essentials for both of them — clothes, toothbrushes and toothpaste, towels and bedsheets, blankets and pillows.

Now Ella followed the landlord, a cousin of Mike’s, through the tiny apartment, absently nodding at his enumeration of features and issues. There was some furniture, old and horrible. Two threadbare armchairs in the living room. Plain wooden bed frames in the bedrooms. A scratched table and chairs in the kitchen.

Over her shoulder, she glanced back at Finn who stood leaning against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest. He watched everything with hooded eyes. A black bandana hid the bandage around his head; he was better, although he still got dizzy when he moved too fast.

Ella hoped it would wear off soon. She’d rather he stayed in bed a while longer, but couldn’t trust him alone at the motel; wouldn’t put it past him to smash the door open or jump out of the window to follow her. It would be so like Finn to try.

And Finn shouldn’t be her main worry. She’d lied to her commanding officer, or rather not told him all she knew. Which amounted to the same thing. She’d hidden Finn’s nature from Dave at a moment when an elf invasion was anticipated. Compared to that, not telling Dave about the book she’d borrowed and what it contained seemed insignificant.

But if she hadn’t lied, Dave would’ve taken Finn away. Dave wouldn’t have listened, wouldn’t have given Finn a chance to explain.

Would he?

Had Simon really not trusted Dave, or was she building this all up in her mind? Maybe Simon simply hadn’t had the time to talk to their boss before he was killed.

“And here is the bathroom,” the landlord said, giving her a dark look. “Is anything the matter?”

“Oh, no.” She dredged up a polite smile. “Everything’s fine.”

Reassured, the man moved on to the kitchen, opening dusty cupboards and a fridge with rust splotches. “Mike’s just moved in next door,” he said. “Loves it here.”

Well, for that low a rent, she bet he did.

“So, miss, what will it be?” The landlord straightened and glanced from her to Finn. “What does the lad say? He hasn’t opened his mouth since you came here.”

Finn shot him an icy look. He’d already checked the apartment on his own while the landlord had shown Ella around. She also waited for his assessment.

Finn nodded.

Translated, that meant Finn thought the apartment defensible, therefore good enough. He didn’t care whether the kitchen was falling apart, or that the bathroom had seen better days. She shuddered at the amount of cleaning they’d have to do over the next days.

Then again, for that low a rent...

“Looks like we’ll take it,” she said.

***

“What about your magic?” Ella asked.

Finn had finished carving protective charms into the doors and window frames, and was now scrubbing the shower tiles with his good hand, the other braced against the wall.

He flicked her an undecipherable glance, then went on scrubbing.

Ella wiped her sweaty forehead on her sleeve and got up from where she’d been kneeling, washing the toilet. Her knee was killing her. Flipping the toilet seat closed, she sat on top and stretched her leg, sighing in relief.

“I mean, if you can use magic to clean this place, can you please just do it?” She lifted a brow when Finn still didn’t reply. “It’s actually a serious question, Finn. I’ve never seen you use magic. Hell, you called me from a phone booth for help two days ago. Why would a high elf lord need the help of a mere human? Where are the fireworks?”

Finn sat back, mouth set. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “I don’t have magic.”

Which she’d sort of expected — otherwise why wouldn’t he have used it so far? But then... “You said you’re a Boreal.” She tried to remember what he’d told her about them. “Boreals are dragonlords. Elite.”

“Born to the royal houses of the mountains,” Finn said tonelessly.

“Wait a minute. You’re royalty?” Her jaw hung open.

Finn’s shoulders slumped. He pushed them back and shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“Why the hell not?”

He shot her a hard look. “No magic.”

Ella stared at him, stunned. “Are you saying...” She waved a hand in the air. “You were what, disinherited? Because for some reason you have no magic?”

Finn nodded. Iron charms chinked against his chest, hanging from a silver chain. She’d given them to him as soon as they’d left the motel —  protection against the Shades.

Well, if true, it made some sort of twisted sense. “I take it that it isn’t common for Boreals to lack magic?”

“It never happens.”

That didn’t sound good. “So what explanation is there?” A thought struck her. “Do other elves have magic? You know, those who aren’t royalty?”

“Some.” He squeezed the scrub sponge he held and soapy water dripped, soaking his pants. He didn’t seem to notice.

“And you?”

“I’ve got nothing.”

She realized she was gaping and closed her mouth, rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand. Well, that was... interesting. If Finn told the truth. Come to think of it, wouldn’t she have noticed any signs of magic in the few days they’d known each other?

There had been one thing, though. “What about those reflective lines on your face and your hands?”

“Snow camouflage,” Finn said. “All of us living on the surface are born with it.”

“All of you?”

“All Ljosaelfar.” He let the sponge fall into the shower. “Light Elves.”

“But I saw the lines even when we were in my apartment, before it was burned down,” she pointed out.

“Fear.” He grimaced. “Brought the lines out.”

Fascinating. And Finn was opening up, finally, the questioning glances he still sent her way intermingled with trusting ones. When he wasn’t busy glaring, of course.

Was he really telling her the truth? The whole truth?

Finn sat still a moment longer, then bent again over the shower stall, scrubbing furiously. Looked like he considered the conversation over.

A knock came on the apartment door and she went to answer it. It was Mike, bearing gifts — pots and pans, some blankets and sheets, old stuff his mother didn’t need. Obviously some people had a good relation with their parents. Go figure.

“Come on in.” She held the door open for him. “I’ve got some cookies.”

“Choc chip?”

“You bet.” Grinning, she led him inside.

And found Finn standing in the corridor, gun aimed. His gaze was blank and laser-sharp.

Mike opened his mouth and closed it, eyes round.

“You remember Mike, right?” Ella said, trying to figure out if Finn was all there or not. “My neighbor next door in the building the dragon burned down. An oracle. You saved his life.”

“Yes.” Mike nodded vigorously. “Thanks for that, man. Can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.”

Finn held the gun pointed for another endless moment, then lowered it, blinking. “Mike.”

“That’s right.” Ella approached Finn cautiously and plucked the gun from his hand. Yeah, they still had a lot of ground to cover regarding Finn’s past. “Let’s have some tea and cookies, we’ve been working all afternoon, what do you say?”

Finn nodded, glared at Mike who flinched, and went to wash his hands.

“What was that?” Mike asked.

“Flashbacks?” Ella shrugged. She put the kettle on and fished three mugs out of a cardboard box. She’d picked up a few things in a dollar shop. These ones had animals drawn on them. “Finn seems to have a military background.”

“You don’t sound sure.”

Ah, Mike, if you knew... “Haven’t had a chance to ask him about it yet.”

“You don’t know much about him, but you moved in together?”

“Er.” She concentrated on pouring the water over the tea bags. “It’s not like that. It’s temporary. Until Finn gets his first salary and can rent his own place.” Or until the world ended. Whichever came first.

“So you guys really aren’t together?”

Ella carried the mugs to the bare basics living room — a threadbare couch Dave had donated and the old armchairs and scratched coffee table that came with the apartment — and sat. “No, we’re really not.”

Mike followed her. “Do you think then there’s any chance he swings the other way? Not that I’m interested. Scott is more my type.” Mike winked. “But, you know; if Finn isn’t into girls, then better to know from the start, right? Before you offer him your heart on a platter.”

“No chance of that,” Ella muttered absently. Finn, gay? She really couldn’t know, could she? He hadn’t given any indication as to his sexual preferences. Maybe he did swing Mike’s way. “I have no idea. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Finn chose that moment to enter. He glanced from her to Mike, tensing, brow furrowing. “What?”

“Here.” Mike smiled and pushed a mug with a dog drawing toward Finn. “Black tea. Sugar?”

Finn grunted. Mike went for the sugar pot but Finn beat him to it, glaring daggers. Mike drew back, paling.

“I guess not,” he said.

Finn’s scowl grew darker. “Not what?”

“Nothing,” Mike said in a small voice. “Ella and I were only wondering...”

Finn waited, a sugar cube in hand.

“If you take one or two sugars,” Ella offered.

Finn’s stare could cut through steel. “Three,” he said.

Ella blinked. Mike snorted, and the tension broke.

“Really?” she asked.

Finn shrugged. He did drop three cubes into his tea, though, so yeah, he wasn’t kidding. Was she surprised? Nah.

“How’s Missy?” Ella asked. Mike had taken the kitten in until Miss Meow got used to having Finn around. So far it had been a hate-hate relationship, all on Missy’s side. Finn didn’t seem to care.

“Shredding my furniture. Peeing in the corners. Well, I guess.”

Ella winced, but Mike didn’t really seem put out. “It’s temporary,” she said.

“Like your partnership with Finn here?” Mike raised a brow and grinned.

Heat rose to her face.

Finn drank his tea and ate a cookie, staring intently at the door. Maybe he was thinking of new charms to add to the apartment protection. Always so focused. Maybe he was asexual. Who knew how the minds and bodies of elves worked?

“And Scott?” Ella asked.

“He’s been great.” Mike’s grin turned into a soft smile. “I know, I complained about him before, but he’s...” He shook his head. “He’s amazing. So supportive and... I’m glad he’s here.”

At least some things had turned out fine in the world. Ella smiled in her mug. Now only an elvish invasion with scaled wolves and snow dragons to worry about and thwart.

Piece of cake.

Chapter Two

Spirals

“There’s a lull in the Shade attacks,” Dave said, turning away from his computer screen. “We don’t know what it means. Maybe the elves are preparing for the invasion, grouping their forces.”

“Maybe they’re still testing the Gates.”

Dave nodded. “I hope it all crashes down on their heads while we organize the defense. There’s a base outside town and the military are moving troops and arms there as we speak. We may need to evacuate the whole area soon. Meanwhile...” He shuffled a few papers on his desk. “How’s your partner?” He opened a case file and flipped a page, then took a sip from his mug. He looked up when she didn’t answer immediately. “What is it?”

“He’s fine.” She hastened to smile. It had been three days now since the dragon incident. “Much better than before. Doctor said he was good.” No doctor had been consulted, of course; she couldn’t risk it. “You should see the new apartment. The sofa you sent us is really comfy.”

Dave nodded. “Glad I could help.”

The office smelled as usual of carpet shampoo and a herbal perfume she’d come to associate with Dave. His cologne, perhaps.

“Why did you call me here today?” Ella sank in a chair and stretched, vertebrae popping in her spine. “No attacks, right?”

“The Shades are still active, but the wolves haven’t made an appearance, and no sign of dragons.”

“Good.” She cocked her head to the side. “So, what is it?” Finn was waiting outside, and she could picture him as she’d left him, leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest, a glare that could melt metal.

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.”

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.”

That had her pulling out her gun, too. “Is someone here?”

“No.” His gaze darted from wall to wall. “But the Veil is thinning.”

“Here, now?” Shit. “Will we get a warning this time?”

In reply, Finn raised his gun and took aim at the far wall. Turning, she saw a familiar mist rising and cursed.

The first Shade jumped out, a huge troll, running at them. Her gun and Finn’s fired at the same time. The Shade jerked backward and fizzled before it hit the floor.

Two more emerged, and Ella had the time to see horns and mottled hides before she aimed and took a shot, Finn’s gun going off a second later.

Then something knocked into her from behind, and she went down, flailing, dropping her gun. Her elbows knocked into the rug and pain raced up her arms.

Finn shouted her name and another shot cracked. Blinking black spots from her eyes, she rolled over, grabbing her gun from the floor. “Finn?”

He was on top of a nasty goblin, riding on its back, legs wrapped around the creature’s torso. He brandished one of his Bowie knives, his lips pulled back in a snarl. Drawing back his hand, he plunged the blade into the goblin’s chest.

The Shade wavered, then began to crumble. It fizzled out and Finn dropped to the floor in a crouch, the knife still held in his hand, dripping ichor. He turned, his gaze finding her, and some of the tension left his body.

“You’re all right,” he muttered.

A bang jerked him upright. It’d come from next door.

“Mike,” Ella whispered, and then they were both running outside.

Mike’s door was closed but unlocked. Damn man would never learn to be careful, would he? Ella pushed it open and they burst inside.

A kobold held Mike by the neck, long claws digging into his flesh. Blood dribbled down Mike’s throat, soaking his white t-shirt. Ella stood frozen, her gun in hand, when another sound came from the doorway to what had to be the bedroom. Was Scott in there?

Finn started toward the bedroom, a knife in each hand, and she turned back to Mike, holstering her gun and drawing her shuriken. Safer. In one smooth movement, she threw one at the kobold’s legs, and then the other. The creature flinched, turning, Mike still in its hold, then a surprised expression flitted over its leathery face. It wavered, half in and half out of reality, and then faded, dropping Mike to the floor.

“Mike.” She rushed to his side, patted his back as he tried to breathe. Deja vu. She saw herself in a dirty alley, rubbing Finn’s back as he coughed and tried to breathe. “You’ll be fine.”

“Scott.” Mike coughed.

Cursing under her breath, Ella pulled off her scarf and pressed it to his neck to stop the bleeding. “Hold this here. I’ll be right back.”

Pulling her gun, clicking off the safety, she stalked to the bedroom and peeked around the corner. A grunt and a hiss told her something was indeed happening inside. Clicks and sighs filled the air, rising to a crescendo.

Breaking cover, she rushed into the room and found Finn struggling in the hold of two trolls. They were trying to drag him toward the writhing mist at the room’s end, where the Veil had torn. What the hell were they doing? Why would they want to pull Finn into the Grey?

“Ella!” It was Scott, cowering behind the door. His shirt was torn and there were blood stains on it. He seemed fine, though. Alive, at the very least. She grabbed him and shoved him out, then turned her attention back to Finn.

Whatever was happening, she couldn’t let them take him. Finn was kicking at the trolls, throwing his body this way and that, trying to loosen the hold. Dammit, again she couldn’t get a shot in. Simon had always said blades were the best weapon against the Shades. No wonder Finn preferred them to guns.

They were almost at the wall of dark mist. Pale shapes weaved in it, and she thought she saw a face. Finn twisted, looking over her shoulder. Met her eyes. There was despair in his.

Ella took aim. “Finn, down.”

She wasn’t sure he’d get it but he did, bending his knees and dropping his weight, folding into a half-crouch. Tugging on the troll’s grip, he curled into himself as much as possible.

Time slowed. A split second when the trolls towered over Finn, two perfect targets.

She fired two bullets, one after the other, into the troll’s heads. Two perfect shots. The trolls screeched, contorting, shimmering, breaking apart. Fading.

Finn fell, sprawling on his back, his breath leaving his lungs in a grunt. In the scuffle, he’d lost his bandana and his pale hair fanned around his head.

Ella waited, making sure the mist faded, too, and that no more Shades were coming. Questions stomped inside her head as she approached Finn. She holstered her gun and knelt by his side.

“Okay,” she said. “We need to talk. Now.”

“I think so, too,” Mike said from the door, arms folded over his chest. Ella raised a brow and followed Mike’s stare to Finn — and Finn’s exposed ears.

Hell.

Chapter Three

Deja Vu

With a promise to Mike to talk in a short while, and with both him and Scott patched up and left to rest with stern instructions to call if they needed anything, Ella dragged Finn back to their apartment and sat him on the sofa. Another deja vu. Her whole life was circles within circles. She made tea, hands barely shaking as she poured the water into the mugs and added heaped spoonfuls of sugar to both. Maybe she was getting used to strange things.

Finn didn’t look up when she carried the mugs to the table. He was rubbing at his bandaged wrist, a faraway look in his eyes. Shivers went through his body.

“Earth to Finn.” Ella pushed the mug toward him. “Drink up. It’ll help.”

He took it, cradled it in his hands. Still didn’t meet her gaze. She sipped her tea, and warmth spread in her chest. They sat in the midst of chaos — the drawers on the floor, the papers strewn all over, the shards of a broken bowl. She was in the eye of a storm and didn’t know what to expect next.

She took a deep breath. “How the hell did the Shades come in here with all the charms we’ve carved on the doors and windows? It’s as if they had special invitation to enter.”

Finn showed no sign of hearing her.

“Finn. Where were the Shades taking you?”

He blinked at the mug in his hands as if he had no idea what it was doing there. He frowned.

“Come on, Finn. I’ve trusted you even though you belong with the enemy. Will you please tell me what you know?”

“They’re after me,” Finn whispered.

“You said that before, that the Shades are after you, but why?”

“I don’t know.” He put the mug back on the table and gripped the charms hanging around his neck.

“I saw a face in the mist,” she said. “Who was it?”

“A face?” His brows lifted.

Oh good, she was having hallucinations on top of everything. “Who might be after you?”

He shook his head.

“What do you know? Who are you, really?”

“Nobody.”

“Yeah sure. You’re royalty, you said so yourself.” Ella banged the mug down and Finn flinched. “If you vanished, they must be looking for you.”

Finn’s hands started to shake. She was about to grab his mug and force-feed the tea to him if necessary, but snagging his bandana he stood and walked to the window. He tied the black cloth into place with jerky movements. “I’m not royalty. I was disinherited when I was still a child. Believe me, I’m not important to them.”

Not the Shades. The elves. “Why?”

“Because I have no magic. I’m a disgrace to the Boreals,” he said bitterly. “I was given a last chance — to pass the rite of heights when I was a child. I failed.”

She frowned. “What sort of rite?”

“They take you up on a cliff. Throw you off. With magic, you can stop the fall.”

A shiver wracked her. “And what did you do?”

“I fell.” The two words dropped like stones.

“Dammit, Finn, they threw you off a cliff when you were still a kid? Who did that, the priests or something?”

“My parents.”

She gaped. Anger was slowly building up inside her. “The hell?”

“They had to. And if I succeeded, they might keep me.” He shrugged. “I didn’t.”

She had no words for that. Pieces of the puzzle were slowly falling into place. “Is that when you broke your leg?”

He nodded, his back to her.

“And then what happened?”

He didn’t speak for a while, his body tense, his fingers white against the window frame. The wind whistled through the cracks, blowing back a strand of his hair. She tried to imagine him in his world, in the blinding ice and drifting snow, with the scaly wolves and feathered dragons, and fear tightened her chest. Watching his parents walk away on the high cliff as he lay in the snow, bleeding and broken.

“I made it to a village,” Finn said, his voice colorless. “Took me a day.”

Oh, holy shit. On a broken leg? Ella clutched the mug tighter. “And the villagers took you in?”

Finn shook his head. “Too dangerous. The Boreals might punish them.”

Motherfuckers. “Then what?”

“A hunter was passing by. Neith. He took me with him.” Finn stepped back from the window, his face in shadow. “I wasn’t supposed to survive. I told you.” He snorted. “Nobody is looking for me.”

And it wasn’t funny. When Finn finally lifted his head, pain showed through the blankness in his eyes.

She didn’t know when exactly she’d decided she believed his story, but there it was. “So you grew up with this hunter, Neith.”

He nodded. “I was lucky. He treated my leg, took care of me until I could walk. Trained me, taught me what he knew, how to hunt and track in the snow, how to use the snow cars. If it wasn’t for him, I’d never have made it, or got into the army.”

“Why did you? Join the army, I mean.”

“He died.” Finn swallowed. “The winter was bad. Animals and aelfar froze to death. I thought the army would be a good idea. Food, clothes. A roof.”

“And was it a good idea?”

“It was the only option,” Finn said.

She got up. She wanted to go to him, but it was as if he was far away, across the Veil. “So you’re at war with the Dark elves?”

“We fight over territories. Hot springs. Mines. Oil and natural gas sources. For centuries now.”

The tension lessened. She took a step toward him, then another. Placed a hand on his arm. “Your tea is growing cold.”

He tilted his head to the side, a furrow forming between his brows. Taking advantage of his confusion, she dragged him back to the couch and placed the mug in his hand. “Are you cold?”

He shook his head. He didn’t protest her fussing, though, and after that goddamn awful story of his childhood it just didn’t feel like it was enough. Nothing could be enough. She shifted closer, put a hand on his knee. It was the bad one; she felt the knee-band under her palm.

He stared at her hand, didn’t move.

“Tell me about the Dark elves,” Ella said. “Dave said they have wings?”

Finn nodded. “They are small, like children, with large eyes. They live underground in huge caves.”

“Like bats?” Again that nervous giggle threatened to break out of her. Dragons, elves, frigging winged fairies. What next?

“They have advanced technology they never share with us. Centuries ago, when they won the war against us and shut the Gates, they destroyed all our records and took away our tech. It took us a long time to rebuild some of it.”

“And what about the Guardians?”

“Duergar. Dwarves, their creators called them, because the early models were short and squat.”

Right, the word was Old Norse. Dwarves. “Early models?” That sounded like...

“They’re automatons, filled with wheels and spirals.” He scowled. “And magic.”

Spirals... Oh, god. If Simon had been observing her and meeting with her as a child, and she had a memory of spirals, could that mean...? “How do you recognize the Guardians? The book says something about a certain angle of looking at them.”

Finn shook his head. “Then you know more than me.”

***

“Let me get this straight,” Mike said, running a hand through his short hair. His neck was bandaged and brown stains of blood had seeped through. “Finn is an elf, and Simon may have been a robot?”

Robot. “Guardian. More like a magical, partly mechanical being, but yeah. Crazy, huh?” And so very hard to believe, but... Ella petted Missy. The kitten purred, curled in her lap. Crazy and damn sad that her friend had been a creature sent to control her movements, and that she hadn’t noticed anything all that time. Or later, when they’d dated. Go figure.

“Crazy doesn’t begin to cover it.”

Outside the window, snow flakes swirled prettily. Huh. Another snow storm coming? “Dave says Simon kept a diary about me.”

“Jeez, Ella.” Mike snorted, rubbed a hand over his face. “I’m more interested in Finn. An honest-to-God elf? Those ears... they’re real? I was hoping you’d tell me he has a Spock fetish or something.”

Ella bit her lip.

“What about magic?”

“No magic.”

“But he’s...” Mike started to pace, rubbing his chest. “You said the Gates are opening and the elves are about to attack, and you shack up with one of them? Are you out of your damn mind?” He stopped and wagged a finger at her. “Is he dangerous?” He threw his hands in the air. “What am I even asking? Of course he’s dangerous. Shit.” He resumed pacing.

Ella stared after Mike. She thought about Finn, his secrets, the way he fought and the fact that the Shades were after him, and was tempted to say yes, he was dangerous. But that wasn’t it. What Mike was asking was whether Finn would harm him, and her. If Finn was on their side. The humans’ side. “He’s a good guy.”

“Is he, now?” Mike walked to the wall and back, stopped. “Are you sure?”

“He just saved your ass.”

Mike’s face fell. “True.” His eyes went distant and she wondered if he was remembering the dragon and how Finn had fought it. “True. He did save me, and Scott as well.” He sank in an armchair, hands hanging between his knees.

“Mike?”

“Yeah, fine. I believe you.” He sighed. “Apart from being a little trigger-happy, he has been good to me.”

Relief flooded her. “No one can know, right?”

He nodded. “What are you going to do now?”

“No idea. I was hoping you’d heard something from beyond the Veil. Dave, my boss, insists I talk to him. Thing is, I don’t want to tell him about the book. Which is stupid. He’s my squad leader and all the doubts I’ve had about him were because of Simon, and now it turns out Simon isn’t who I thought and—”

“Is that it?” Mike pointed at her bag. The top of the book peeked out. She pulled it out and handed it over.

“I’m trying to find out more about this John Grey figure. It’s tough. For every bit of interesting info there are dozens of pages to wade through. The elves merely keep him apart and say ‘He’s not one of us’, as if that tells me anything. No talk of his magic, his origins or even his goddamn favorite food.”

“And the mention of the spirals you told me about?”

She leaned over, found the page for him. She’d memorized the page number. “Finn says those with the spirals aren’t really Dark elves, but these robots, the Guardians, sent by the Dark elves to watch over the Gates.”

“And who’s John Grey?”

“No clue. I’m not done reading, though.” She sighed. “A Dark elf. Or a Shade, a powerful one. Finn thinks so, too.”

“Okay. And...” Mike leafed through the book, but didn’t seem to be paying it much attention. “How can I help?”

“Well I don’t know.” She winced. “Tell me your thoughts?” She bit her lip. “Please, Mike. I trust you.”

“And not Mr. hot guy?”

“I want another opinion.” Besides, the hot guy in question had fallen asleep on the couch after their conversation and she figured he deserved a small respite. She kept an ear out in case of another attack.

“If it helps, I never noticed any robots around you.” Mike shrugged. “It might be easier if I knew what to look for. Doesn’t the book say how to recognize these Guardians?”

She shook her head. “They can obviously pass off as humans.”

“Doesn’t sound promising.” Mike rubbed a hand over his face.

“Sorry,” Ella mumbled, accepted the book back from him. “You’ve just had a horrible day; I should let you rest.” She turned to go, book clutched to her chest.

“Are you kidding? Mi casa es tu casa. Hey, wait, Ella. I don’t know if I can help with John Grey. But I did hear the Shades talk about someone called ‘Adramar’, calling him ‘boss’. Does this help any?”

She froze. “What did they say about her?”

“Her? You’ve heard the name before?”

She nodded, her mind whirling. “It’s the Queen of the elves.”

“I see. Why doesn’t it surprise me the elves are involved in this?” He squinted at her. “Now, why would the Shades have any dealings with the elves?”

Ella felt the blood drain from her face.

“What is it?” Mike asked.

“The Gates are open. Or rather, they seem to open and close randomly, letting these creatures through. And now you’re telling me that the Shades obey the elves, which is the worst news I’ve had all day.”

“Shit.” Mike ran a hand through his short hair.

“The epics say humans confused the elves with the Shades, Dave says the same, but what if there’s a connection between them? I read that the elves manipulate energy.”

“And what are the Shades? Maybe they are some form of energy loose between the worlds and the elves can control it.”

Her stomach roiled. Shit. She definitely had to report this new possibility to Dave.  “How are we going to fight both the elves and the Shades? The elves alone, that was bad enough.”

“How can I help?” Mike asked.

She smiled, hoping her gratefulness showed in her eyes. “You’re already helping.”

Mike bit his lip, gestured at the book in her hands. “That’s not enough. Come on, Ella. You can’t keep me in the dark forever.”

“I just don’t want you getting in more danger than you already are.”

“Nonsense. You can’t protect me.” He gave a strained little smile. “I know you want to protect everyone around you, but you can’t. Hell, my neighbor is an elf.”

Ella looked away. “Sorry for messing up your life,” she said.

Reaching over, he squeezed her shoulder. He looked so young. Then again, so did Finn, and when had age ever mattered in these things? A war was coming.

“Listen in,” she said, “as you always do. Listen for anything about Guardians, Duergar or dwarves, Dark elves, the Gates and John Grey.”

“Sure.” He seemed pleased.

“Be extra careful. The Shades broke through the wards, disregarded the charms. This is getting out of hand.”

“I’ve got a gun. Scott bought it for me. Even taught me how to use it.”

She blinked. “I thought you said—”

“I’m against violence. But I’m against dying out of stupidity, too. After the dragon... Let’s just say it put a new perspective on things.”

She laughed outright. “Glad to hear it. And remember your promise.”

“Not telling anyone about Finn. Got it. One last thing,” Mike said. “Why don’t you leave the book with me for a few hours? I’ll go through it, see if there’s anything that rings a bell from all the Shade babble I hear all day. What do you say?”

She hesitated. “I think whoever broke into the apartment today might have been looking for it. You could be putting yourself into more danger. And we can’t let anyone take it before we know what’s so important about it.”

“And what are you going to do? Stay home and guard it all day or carry it around with you as you fight Shades and whatever else comes through the Gates?”

Again he was right. And on cue, a beep came from her phone, signaling an emergency call. Dave. “All right. Thanks. And be careful!”

Parting with the book was strangely hard. It was her last link to Simon, the Simon she’d thought she knew, and it had become a talisman of sorts. With a sigh, she gave it back to Mike and turned to go, phone in hand.

“Hey, Ella.” Mike cleared his throat. “What is it like?”

She turned. “What?”

“Being with an elf, of course.” Mike winked. “Is he well... endowed?”

She gaped at him.

“Is the ear shape any indication for any other attributes? An extra tail?” He waggled his brows.

Her face was on fire. She patted a cheek to put out the flames. “I don’t know, okay? We don’t... We’re just partners.”

“Keep telling yourself that, girl. You just might believe it.”

She did her best not to run from Mike’s apartment, forcing her gait to be slow and steady, his laughter echoing in her ears, and her damn phone still ringing.

***

Shades had been sighted in a warehouse near the docks. At least, that’s what Ella understood from the terse message Dave had left on her voicemail. A sighting, he said. Helpful and informative as ever.

The wipers swished, clearing the snow from the windscreen. Finn sat shotgun, checking his gun, while she drove through the midday traffic. Armed military trucks rolled by, their passage sending vibrations through the car windows and chills through her.

It was happening. Her world was preparing for an invasion.

Finn holstered his gun, the labels in the seam of his t-shirt catching the light. She’d insisted he wear his clothes inside out, like herself, for protection from the Shades. Not that she had any proof this method worked anymore, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Finn reached into the duffel bag at his feet, drawing out a throwing knife. They had brought half the weaponry with them — shuriken, knives, guns, even a sort of short bullwhip. She had to wonder where Finn had found it, if he’d nicked it from the weaponry when Jeff hadn’t been looking. Finn coiled it around his arm, tucking the handle in his sleeve.

“Mike knows what you are,” she said, forcing her eyes back to the road and the changing traffic lights.

Silence greeted her words. She chanced a look and found him staring straight ahead, brows knit. “Mike likes you.” She swallowed. “Promise me you won’t hurt him. He’ll keep the secret, I vouch for him.”

He gestured at the road, and she swerved right to avoid hitting a parked car. Heart pounding, she pressed her lips together and focused on driving to the warehouse without trashing the car.

No promise from Finn not to harm Mike. Damn.

The door to the warehouse stood ajar and a cold breeze whistled through. Snow swirled in the air, thin, dainty flakes, and she shivered, zipping up her jacket.

“I know this place,” Finn muttered.

“Oh? Been around here before?” Raising her gun, she prepared to enter, but Finn was faster and shoved past her.

Presumptuous. She growled, pushing after him. She didn’t need a man — or an elf — to fight her battles for her and—

She froze a few steps behind Finn, gun still raised. What the fucking hell? Striding past Finn, she approached the things, for lack of better word, that lay in a heap in the middle of the warehouse. Her feet kept moving, bringing her closer to what looked like creatures from a nightmare. Dead? The black liquid pooling around the scaled body probably meant yes, but one could never be too careful.

She circled it, trying to control her panicked breathing, taking in curved horns, fish-like scales and heads — many heads. “What the hell are these things?” A huge snake-like trunk, thick as a sewage pipe and as long, was cut clean through, leaving a bloody stump.

Finn clicked the safety on his gun and holstered it. He seemed to think the things were dead. “Snake,” he said, turning in a circle, as if expecting someone to walk inside.

Her skin crawling, Ella did the same. But the warehouse was empty, only a baseball cap and a duffel bag abandoned on the floor indicating the workers must have fled. And she couldn’t blame them. No disturbance in the air to warn of a Gate opening. Quiet. “One snake? Many heads?”

Finn nodded, stepping around the, well, snake, studying the cut. “No wings,” he noted, as if that made any sense.

Or did it? Hadn’t he mentioned flying snakes once? “These things fly across the sky?” All her hairs stood on end. “Remind me never to visit your world.”

Finn glanced over at her, looking uncertain, but then a smile twitched a corner of his mouth.

Heh. A Finn smile. Score.

“Okay, so this thing,” she refused to think of it as a snake, “came through a Gate. But a part is missing.”

“Half.”

“Half of it is missing. This is why the Boreals sent first the animals through, you said. To test. But...” She holstered her gun and rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “The wolves passed. The dragon passed. Hell, you passed. Why does the Gate sometimes work fine and sometimes doesn’t?”

He glared at her until she sighed.

“Right, you don’t know. Well, at least we know the Gates aren’t stable yet, which means the elves won’t be crossing today. Hopefully.” She flipped her phone open, called Dave. “Hey, it’s Ella. False alarm, no Shades. We do have half a flying snake, though, apparently.”

“What?” Dave said, not sounding amused.

Well, neither was she. “What I said. Gate seems to have malfunctioned, cutting it in half. Better call the technicians to set up a quarantine zone and examine it.”

“I know my job,” Dave snapped. “We need to talk. Did you see the printout?”

“I did.” Briefly, and in the mess that followed she’d forgotten all about it. She patted it in her pocket. Lots of reading waiting for her: the printout, the book... “Can’t say it rings any bells.”

Something clattered in the background, and Dave cursed. “No matter. We could do a hypnosis session, see if it digs up any memories.”

“Why so interested in my supposed abilities?” Finn was frowning at her, and she shrugged. “So I was seeing things as a kid. Probably Shades and—”

“You were seeing more than Shades.”

“I was a kid, Dave. I was probably making most of that up.”

“Ella, we think... I think.” He coughed. “You may be able to find John Grey.”

“Come again?” She scuffed her shoe on the concrete and looked at Finn who had folded his arms across his chest and waited, obviously listening in the conversation. Lurker.

“It’s possible you can See more than a voyant can; more than the Shades and the creatures of the Veil. That you can See behind the Veil, into Aelfheim.”

Ella drew the phone away from her ear and gave it a suspicious look. Was it malfunctioning? Her heart started to pound. She brought it to her ear again. “I don’t think the notes say anything like that.”

“Just read the damn printout,” Dave said. “We’ll talk.”

Chapter Four

Silence

Mike intercepted them before they reached the apartment door. He’d been lounging in the corridor, dressed in jogging pants and a t-shirt. He’d gone running, and sweat stuck the cloth to his chest. He looked good, short dark hair slicked back.

Not as good as Finn, though.

And yeah, time to throttle this sort of thoughts and concentrate on what was important. Like why Dave thought she had any clue where to find John Grey, and why Mike was waiting for them.

“Hey.” Mike’s grin was strained, showing too many teeth. “Hey, Finn, my man.” He waved.

Finn glowered.

“He won’t bite you,” Ella told Mike and that seemed to make him even more jumpy. “For heaven’s sake, nothing has changed since we last talked. He’s still Finn.”

That seemed to do the trick. Mike lost the scary grin and nodded. “You said to tell you if I heard anything interesting.”

“Spill.”

“I heard...” He glanced at Finn, then down. “Nothing.”

Ella blinked. “Mike, you can tell us, we won’t—”

“You don’t understand.” The fear intensified, widening his eyes. “I hear nothing. After months of endless blabbing. Since the Shade attack, it’s been silent as a grave.”

Ella shared a look with Finn. Worry darkened his eyes. Any change at this point should be taken as a bad sign.

She turned toward her apartment door.

“Oh, and there’s someone here to see you.” Sheepish, Mike gestured at his own half-open door, and a woman stepped out, as if she’d been listening there all along.

Of course she had.

“Mom.” Ella huffed, her mind still on the unexpected silence of the Shades. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, nice to see you too, Ella.” Her mother sidled out into the corridor, her high heels clacking on the linoleum. With her hair blond and permed, curling around her made-up face, and her tight skirt and shirt, she looked like a parody of a fifties movie star, a Marilyn wannabe.

Sometimes Ella couldn’t believe she was related to Linda Harris-Benson. “What do you want?”

“Now I need to file a request to see my own daughter?”

“A phone call from time to time might have been nice. You know, to check if I’m alive or dead.”

She caught Finn’s wide eyes and snapped her mouth shut. After the horror story he’d told her about his childhood, she’d half expected him to draw his gun and tell her mother, all mothers for that matter, to fuck off. But he only looked curious and kind of...wistful?

“Excuse me for a moment,” Ella muttered. “Need to call my boss.”

It wasn’t a trick to avoid her mother for another five minutes. Honestly. She was a tough secret agent battling Shades; she could handle this.

She walked a ways down the corridor, sighing in relief, and called Dave. Waiting for the tone, she observed her mother stalking toward Finn with a predatory light in her eyes. Finn took a step back, then leaned against the wall and put his hand on his holstered gun. Ella grinned.

“What is it?” Dave sounded out of breath. “Where are you?”

“I’m okay,” Ella said. “Just wanted to tell you that Mike reported total silence from beyond the Veil, ever since the attack.”

“Attack? What attack?” Dave grunted something else that might have been a curse.

“Shades in our apartment, about an hour before you called us to the scene of the bloody snake.”

“In your apartment?” Dave’s voice rose. “What did I tell you about protection—”

“Protection was on, but didn’t help.” Her mother didn’t seem to notice Finn’s wariness and went to lean next to him, a hand on hip. She was asking him about himself. Finn’s curious look was giving way to his usual glare. “Any ideas?”

“Working on it.” Dave made a soft sound like a rattle. Was he cracking his knuckles? “We may have another situation downtown. I’ll call you later.”

Before she had a chance to reply, the line went flat. Biting back a curse, she shoved the phone in her pants pocket, fished her keys from the other and unlocked her door. “Mom, look, this is a really bad time for—”

“I won’t stay long.” She tried to grab hold of Finn’s arm to pull him inside, but he jerked out of her reach and gave her a look that could bore through steel. “I heard your apartment burned down and I wanted to make sure my little girl was okay.”

Making a face, Ella threw her door open and entered. As a matter of fact, she wanted to ask her mother a couple of things about the past.

Half-drawing her gun, Ella crossed the living room and checked the kitchen, bedrooms and bathroom for any sign of human or other life. She turned and found Finn right behind her, which scared the bejesus out of her.

“Dammit. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

Finn shot her an undecipherable look and began checking everything she’d already checked — locks, charms, carved symbols. Obsessive much? Then again, he’d been the target of the last Shade attack.

“Ella?” Her mother’s voice rang from the living room. She sounded annoyed.

With a heart-felt sigh, Ella holstered her gun. “Coming!”

To her surprise, Finn followed at her heels, instead of taking the opportunity to shut himself in his room or the bathroom with the pretext of cleaning his weapons. “You don’t have to meet with her,” she whispered to him. “Really, it’s cool.”

Finn only shrugged.

“She’s a pain in the ass,” Ella muttered.

“She’s your mother.”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Precisely.”

Finn scowled and of course said nothing more. Together they stepped into the living room where Ella’s mother had made herself comfortable on the old sofa. She smiled widely when she saw them.

“So, when were you going to introduce me to your handsome boyfriend?”

“Not my boyfriend. Want tea?”

“No, sweetling, thank you, just had my espresso downtown before I came here. Alfred dropped me off on his way to a business meeting.”

“Alfred? What happened to George?”

Her mother flapped her hand as if that didn’t matter. Maybe it didn’t, although George had stayed for — what was it? Two years now? A record.

“He’s taking me to the theater later tonight, they have a lovely show. Ionesco’s The Rhinoceros. Deep.”

Ella dropped in an armchair and propped her booted feet on the coffee table. “You don’t say.”

“I know you don’t care for art, honey,” Mom said. “A great pity. You used to like literature.”

“The world is falling apart, Mom. A dragon burned down my apartment, yeah? Maybe Ionesco is not high on my priority list right now.”

“A dragon. You believe whatever flight of fancy takes journalists who are trying to make the front page.”

“I saw it, Mom. I was there.”

“Sure, honey.” Her mother wrinkled her nose and waved a manicured hand with red nails at her. “Just take your feet off the table, this isn’t proper behavior. And your fiancé is watching.” She giggled behind her hand. “Oh, god, he’s looking at me. Tell him to stop flirting.”

Flirting? Ella glanced at Finn who stared at her mother as if she had grown horns. Right, flirting. “Ignore her, Finn. That’s her warped sense of humor. Nothing to do with you, she does this with everyone.” It was the sad truth.

“Oh, dear, listen to yourself.” Her mother fanned herself with her hand. “Saying such awful things to your boyfriend, and he’s so charming. So shy.” She beamed at Finn who tilted his head to the side as if trying to figure out some complex equation.

“Finn isn’t shy, Mom. He’s just very busy, because we’re not a couple, we work together — and this is the middle of a working day.” She took a deep breath. “Besides, I said he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Mike, such a nice boy, he said you live together, you and Finn. Surely that—”

“Sharing a rent isn’t the same as sharing a bed, Mom. You should know that better than anyone. You lived with dad for years under the same roof, and didn’t fool anyone, now, did you?”

She hadn’t quite meant to snap the last words, but what the hell. It felt good to have the final word. Ella leaned back in her chair, breathing hard.

Her mother’s face reddened with anger. “That’s no way to talk to your mother. Is this how I taught you to behave?”

All right, that had hardly been the last word. “You never taught me anything good anyway.”

“Ella. I just wanted to know how you’re doing.”

“So why don’t you just ask me instead of insulting me?”

Her mother gaped at her, and Ella turned her sullen gaze aside, only to find Finn gaping at her as well.

What, was she being unreasonable? She didn’t think so.

“Well, I see nothing has changed,” her mother said, rising and smoothing down her skirt. Her tights had a run in them. She lifted her chin and pressed her red lips together. “Look at the time. I think I should be on my way.”

“Wait, Mom.” Ella struggled to swallow her anger. She dropped her legs from the table and leaned forward. “I need to ask you something.”

“Oh, now you need my help?”

Dammit. “It’s important. Listen, did anyone in particular monitor me when I was little? A man called Simon Esterhase?” A long shot, but you never knew.

“Monitoring? We paid thousands of dollars to experts. You were monitored by several people at a time. How can I remember their names after all this time?”

Ella got up and grabbed her backpack. From her wallet, she withdrew a photo. Herself and Simon, raising their glasses to the photographer a few months ago. Her throat constricted at the sight of the familiar smile. Why, Simon? “Did this guy visit me when I was little? Do you recognize him?”

“Is this a joke?” Her mother shook her head. “He’s sitting with you. He looks your age. How can you think he visited you as a child?”

Yep, the question of the week. “So you don’t know him?”

“As I said, I can’t remember all—”

“Jeez, can you just answer the question?” Ella gritted her teeth. “You know what? Never mind.”

“Well, I’ll be going. I can’t stand all this negative energy. And I see all my worries were unfounded. You’re perfectly fine.” Her mother smiled at Finn and for a brief, heart-wrenching moment Ella wished she was the recipient of that smile. “My daughter never appreciates my concern.”

“Oh, come on, Mom, be honest for once,” Ella snapped. “You never really worried about me, so spare me the theatrics.”

Her mother’s dark eyes, so like her own, flashed at her, filled with such annoyance and hurt Ella regretted her last words.

Shame filled her. How had she reverted to a whiny child when the world was ending? Shouldn’t she be mending their relationship? “Mom...”

Opening her handbag, her mother fished out a few photos and waved them at Ella. “Here. I found them in an old box and I thought you may want to have them. It’s your grandma when she was young, and you, and...” She walked over to Ella who had sat up and pressed them into her hand. “Anyhow. Go on saving the world and whatever else it is you’re doing.”

Turning on her heel, she walked out of the apartment. Ella stared after her, absently clutching the photos in her lap, boots smearing mud on the carpet. For some strange reason, her eyes stung. “Mom, wait...”

The door clicked shut.

Ella stared at its scratched white surface for a few seconds, then threw the photos on the coffee table and smashed her fist into the wood. She bent her head, breathing through her nose, trying to find a measure of calm. “Damn you.”

“You’re angry,” Finn astutely observed.

“My mom... brings out the worst in me.”

“Why?”

Ella shrugged. “How the hell should I know? Dad says it’s because we’re too similar.”

“Similar.” Finn arched a brow.

Right. Wasn’t obvious at first. But the mulish stubbornness and impulsiveness ran deeper than hair style and nail polish. Unfortunately. She often wished she could scrape the similarities off, shed the anger that always burned beneath the surface. But the hurt of her parents’ separation and the insults and rows and all the violence unleashed around her during their divorce fueled it with every scrap of memory.

“She’s alive,” Finn pointed out with unfailing accuracy.

“Uh huh.” Obviously. Alive and kicking quite hard, as a matter of fact. She really hoped Finn wouldn’t admonish her to kiss and make up with her mother or he’d have another one coming. “So?”

But Finn just stared at the far wall for a few moments, then got up and left the room. Straining her woefully weak, human ears, she waited to hear the scrape of the whetstone on his knife, but all she heard a few moments later was the water running in the bathroom.

She frowned. Finn was acting strange. Finn’s mother had thrown him off a cliff as a child and then abandoned him to die. Did he still love her? Was that what this was all about?

She scrubbed a hand over her face and thought about the book she’d lent Mike, about King Sirurd, the elves and the fucked-up mess they’d left behind.

Not interested in literature, huh? Her mother had no idea.

***

“Here you go.” Ella slid into the chair next to Mike and placed the two mugs on the kitchen table. “Coffee for you, strong tea for me.” She stifled a yawn. God, she hated mornings.

“Finn keep you up all night?” Mike asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Knock it off, neighbor. I slept fine in my own bed, thank you.” Ella sipped her tea and scalded her tongue. “Shit.”

“What is he doing?” Mike nodded toward the open door leading to the living room.

“Exercising.” Since early morning, if she had to guess. He’d been at it, sweaty and plain gorgeous, bare-chested and barefoot, his pants molding to strong legs, when she’d crossed to the kitchen more than an hour ago.

“Maybe you should, too.” He gestured at her. “I’ve seen how you’ve been walking since the dragon attack. That leg, the one you broke a few months ago, is giving you trouble. Maybe Finn can help.” He winked.

“Screw you.” She couldn’t help grinning back at him, though. Maybe she should exercise with Finn, why not?

Because he was up at the crack of dawn. Jeez. “Where’s my book? Did you bring it as I told you?”

Mike nodded and presented it to her with a small flourish. “Safe and sound.”

Relieved, she took it. “And? Did you find anything interesting?”

“Not sure. I read up on all I could find on these Guardians, these robots. Went through the whole damn book.” Mike gulped down his coffee and pushed his mug away. “Short and odd-looking, right? They also called them dwarves.”

Oh, right. “Finn says they’ve changed. That was many centuries ago. The new models look entirely human.”

“Finn says, huh?” Mike winked. Bastard.

“Just... tell me about the Guardians.”

“Well, it seems they required copious amounts of a mixture containing mainly fennel and lavender oil.”

“To oil their cogs?”

“Here, read for yourself. Page two hundred and twelve.” He pushed the book toward her. “And here’s the passage about the angle of looking at them.”

Her fingers trembled as she sought the page. She hadn’t read that far. “The angle. So what about it?”

“Well, if the models haven’t changed much, apparently you only need to find the right way of looking at them to see the spirals. There’s a split along one of their sides.”

She tapped the passage with her forefinger. “Head to toe. To let the system breathe. Called a ‘seam’.”

“You’d also notice them because they don’t change, don’t sleep, don’t eat, like the machines they are.”

“Yeah, well.” She snorted. “I know many real life people who don’t seem to ever sleep.” Dave sort of leaped to mind; he often called her from work in the middle of the night. “Don’t they need a source of energy, though?”

“Remember what we were saying, about psychic energy? Well.” He gestured at the book. “Sounds like these Guardians can draw energy from the Grey. Wherever the Grey is thin or torn.”

“Jesus.” Of all the strange and terrible things she’d seen, somehow Grey-sucking machines that looked like humans disturbed her the most. “So how the hell can we tell them apart? How to see the seam?”

“By looking at it when drunk?” Mike raised his glass. “I think it says something like it.”

“An altered state,” Ella muttered, flipping a page. “Caused by a substance or fear.” She looked up. “And if when I see this creature I’m not drunk or scared?”

“Well, then carry a bottle of liquor with you always.” Mike stuck his tongue out.

Clown. Ella snorted. “Really funny. But almost nothing to go on.” Come on, Simon, were you really intending for me to see this or not? Were you a Guardian, here on a mission or am I going crazy? What mission could you have? And why would you need to pick up this book from the library to read about things you already knew?

She got up and walked to the living room door and peeked in. Finn had left, presumably to shower and change, but she could picture him perfectly in her mind’s eye, half-naked and flushed, and...

Goddammit. Instead of lusting, she should be thinking.

She turned back to Mike. Think. Think. “Let’s recap. Duergar have a seam. They don’t eat or sleep. They suck Grey matter. They may be walking among us. One of them may have been observing me as a child, taking notes on some odd abilities I apparently had, though I don’t anymore.”

Mike nodded. “Yes. And if Simon was one of the Duergar, then it makes sense he didn’t age over time.”

“Right. But.” Blood and bones sticking out and gore... Why hadn’t she thought of this before? “The wolves tore him open, Mike. I saw his chest cavity from the inside, for Christ’s sake. Nothing mechanical there I could see. Besides, why would the wolves attack one of their own?”

Mike frowned. “Because... he defected? Or maybe they were wild animals, who’d just kill anyone in sight? As for not seeing the mechanical parts — who knows how these robots are constructed? Maybe their innards look like ours. Maybe the clocks and wheels are deeper or something.”

Right, right. One second... “I’ve seen Simon eat. All the time. He loved eating. And drinking. How does that fit in?”

Mike slumped. “Er. It doesn’t?”

Exactly. “Simon had no autopsy done on him because we thought the cause of death obvious. I should ask for one.” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “Anyhow. Dave gave me his notes.” She pulled them out of her pocket and slammed them on the table, spread the paper, smoothed it down. “There are comments about something called a “stabilizer” but apart from that I saw things, apparently. Not a big surprise, but Mike, I wasn’t seeing Shades. Well, not only. I was seeing landscapes and people and animals.”

“As if...”

“...I was seeing through to the other side?” Ella sank in her chair. “Dave said so too. Nothing makes sense. Not a single fucking thing, and we’re nowhere closer to who or what John Grey is than we were a week ago.”

Such a cheering thought.

Chapter Five

Smoke

“It’s the wolf that escaped us at Wellington Square a few days ago,” Dave’s voice said over the phone, the line crackling and breaking. “It got a woman in Emerson Park and then was seen heading toward Wilson Avenue. And it’s Saturday.”

Ella frowned as she hurried toward her car, Finn hot on her heels. “What’s the day to do with—oh shit.” The weekly street market. “On our way.”

Finn scraped the fresh snow from the windshield before he entered the car and she passed him her gun so it didn’t dig into her hip as she drove.

So domestic. Maybe the partnership could work out after all.

Her amusement faded as they approached the park. She’d expected panic, but panic in a bazaar, in the falling snow, was different and so much worse, with stalls collapsing and goods spilling, people running and falling, trampled over by others in their haste to leave.

Police were posted around, trying to contain the hysteria, but it was too late.

Screams from her left indicated the direction of the terror. Something blinding white flashed through the snowfall, and a fresh scream died in a gurgle. “The wolf’s—”

Finn had the door open and was out of the car before she’d even warned him. Running through the crowd, twisting gracefully among them, going against the flow, he glowed in the pale sunlight.

“Dammit, Finn!” She left the car by the road side, grabbed her gun and burst out into the chaos. She wasn’t as good as Finn at dodging the oncoming mob but she did her best to follow him.

She thought she saw his pale hair up ahead, but then lost him again. Squinting, she wiped the snowflakes from her eyes with the back of her hand. The crowd thinned. A body lay in the middle of the street, gutted, in a pool of blood. Gagging on the smell, she turned in a circle, gun pointed. Where was the wolf? Where was Finn?

A scream sounded overhead. She looked up. A balcony. Wolves couldn’t climb walls — could they?

Except this was no wolf, but something like it. She caught a glimpse of Finn scaling the side of the building like Spiderman. Shaking her head, she jogged to the building entrance and took the stairs. Her breathing echoed in her ears as she burst onto the second floor landing, pointing her gun in every direction. Another scream from above, and it was back to the stairs. She raced to the second landing and followed the noise. Growling, screeching, cries and curses led her to the end of the passage. She tried the door; it opened.

A crash and an object flew by her head, smashing into the door. Ducking, she took cover behind a table. In the door, stuck, was one of Finn’s knives.

She peeked around the corner.

The white wolf lay dead in the midst of broken furniture, Finn’s other Bowie knife jutting from its side and Finn’s whip wrapped around its throat. A pool of crimson framed the animal.

And right behind stood an open Gate.

She didn’t know how she knew it was a Gate — but she was sure of it. None of the dark mist that was common where the Veil thinned or tore. No, this was more like sunlight reflecting on water, a rippling surface stretching all the way to the ceiling — and Finn knelt before it, his eyes wide.

What the hell? She inched away from the table and crouched behind the sofa for a better view.

An apparition floated inside the Gate — no, not an apparition: an elf. A woman with long silvery hair, dressed in a flowing gown. A diadem adorned her head, highlighting her slender, leaf-shaped ears. She was saying something in a sussurating language, reaching a hand out to Finn.

Ella waited to see what he’d do, her breath catching in her throat. A moment of truth. If he was a spy, maybe he’d be now welcomed back to his world to reap the rewards of a job well done.

The elf lady said something more, her tone soft, and Finn flinched. He shook his head. The lady beckoned imperiously, her smile hardening. “Isthelfinn,” she hissed.

Was she referring to Finn?

Finn shuddered. The Gate flickered. Finn gasped and jerked forward, reaching out toward the rippling image, but a black wave went through it, erasing it. He fell on hands and knees, head bowed.

Ella stepped out from behind the sofa, gun ready, gaze flicking all around. No Shades. No wolves. No Gates. Safe.

Except Finn hadn’t moved.

“Who was that, Finn?” She came to stand in front of him, holstering her gun. “What did she want?”

He shook his head.

“She invited you back home, didn’t she? Is she your lover? Or a general of your army?”

He sat back on his heels. Tears tracked down his cheeks but he didn’t seem to notice. “She’s my mother.”

***

“This isn’t a very good time, Dave,” Ella said, cradling the phone between cheek and shoulder as she helped Finn down the stairs. The meeting with mother elf had drained all his energy and he limped so badly she worried he might fall all the way down. Yeah, she’d tried the lift. Out of order. Bad things usually happened in clusters.

“It’s important,” Dave said, his tone clipped. “Looks like we’ve got another dragon on the loose.”

Jesus. “Where?”

“The Cormac Mall, right behind your new apartment.”

“We just finished up the wolf. Can’t you send someone else?” She wasn’t sure Finn was up to it.

“I’d love to, but you’re the closest, and let’s face it, your partner seems to know his dragons.”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and Finn raised his head, seeming to come out of his daze. He then proceeded to glare until Ella stepped away and let him walk on his own.

Back to his normal pissy self. She had to admit it was a relief; she wasn’t sure what to do with the protective feelings churning inside her.

“Fine. Send someone to pick the dead wolf up, will you? Before more people see it and the journalists arrive.”

“After you see the mall, you’ll understand that’s the least of our worries.”

Ella chewed on her lower lip, marching down the now deserted avenue. “Victims?”

“Yes. The creature has moved on. I want you to follow its tracks and stop it.”

Yeah, so easy. “What about the army? Can’t they lend us a helicopter or something?”

But Dave had already hung up. Fantastic.

The police were bent over the dead body, conferring. Finn limped fast enough to keep pace with her, glaring at the snow-covered asphalt as if it offended him. He still hadn’t spoken a word.

It wasn’t until they were back in the car and driving to the mall that he stirred. He leaned forward, placed his hands on the dashboard, gaze fixed on something.

She saw it too. Smoke.

“Ella?” He glanced her way. “Is that...?”

“Yeah, dragon.”

He looked confused, pale brows drawn over his eyes. “Another Gate?”

“Sure looks like it, doesn’t it?” She bit her lip as she pressed down on the gas. “You need to talk to me, Finn. Was that really your mother?”

He clenched his jaw. “I think so.”

“You think so?”

“Last time I saw her was long ago.”

When she’d thrown him off a cliff. And she thought her family was dysfunctional. “What did she say?”

“She asked me...” He glared at the smoke rising from the mall ahead. “To go back.”

Yeah, Ella had guessed as much. The beckoning gesture had been a dead giveaway. “But why now?”

“I don’t know.”

“She didn’t explain?”

“She said it had been a mistake.”

Oh, yes, clear as day. “What was a mistake? Throwing you out? Leaving you to die?”

He flinched. It had come out harsh, but if she had the woman in front of her, she’d punch her in the face. Seriously.

“Do you want to go back?”

She waited but Finn didn’t reply. He folded his arms over his chest again, in his favorite “leave me alone now” gesture. Fine.

Anyway, chat time was up. They’d arrived.

The mall appeared, a huge rectangular concrete building rising through the curtain of falling snow. A fake waterfall splashed among trees and bushes beside the entrance. Smoke billowed from inside. People milled around the perimeter set by the police.

She stopped the car and pulled out her badge before stepping closer. Finn kept close to her, raising his own badge, his face grim. The officers nodded at them and lifted the cord to let them pass.

“Ella.” Detective Sheila Morgan approached them. “Who’s this?”

“Officer Morgan, this is Finn, my temporary partner.”

Sheila dipped her head. “I heard about Simon. My condolences.”

Ella swallowed hard, shook her head and turned toward the mall. “What happened here?”

“Something crashed into the mall and started burning people.” Sheila sounded disgusted and Ella was sure she wouldn’t like what she saw once she got inside. “Something that appeared out of nowhere, apparently. Right up your alley.”

The inside of the mall looked like a bomb had gone off. Broken glass, black earth from the potted plants, items from the shops strewn everywhere. Smell of scorched flesh, blood and shit. She spared Finn a glance, but his face was blank.

She spotted the bodies in the food court. A detective moved from where he was directing two men to cordon off the area and came to talk to her.

“Agent Benson, I was told you’d be coming. I’m detective Norton. Maybe you have a better idea of what happened than we do.”

They shook hands. “Got anything?” Ella asked.

“This.” He produced a plastic bag with a white stone inside. It swirled with colors, like mother-of-pearl.

Finn grabbed the bag out of Norton’s hand.

“He’s with me,” Ella said, forestalling Norton’s anger. “He’s the impulsive, quiet type.” Or something like that. “Finn, is it a scale?” Were wolves involved as well?

“A scale of what?” Norton said.

Finn stared at the white stone as if it had personally insulted his sister. “Raukdreki,” he whispered, mouth twisting as if the word burned.

“What did you say?” Ella asked, but got no answer. Naturally.

“If you don’t mind, this is evidence,” Norton said and reached out for the bag. When Finn made no move to return it, Norton plucked it out of his hand. “We’ll send you the results of the analysis.”

Right. “Did anyone see this creature, where it went?”

Agent Norton pointed west.

“Roosting place,” Finn muttered.

Norton shot him an arch look.

“We need pitch,” Finn said. “And buttercake.”

Oh no, Finn had taken a hit in the head when she wasn’t looking. “Just wait, I’ll get you something to eat later—”

Finn turned around and started walking toward the exit. Shit, one didn’t let one’s confused partner go off alone. With a curse, Ella set out after him. “Finn, wait. Wait, dammit!”

“Bait,” Finn snapped, striding fast, barely limping. “We need to draw it out.”

Well, he was the dragon expert after all. “Bait. All right. Slow down.”

“Agent Benson?” Norton ran after them. “What’s going on?”

“Can you find pitch?”

“Pitch? You mean bitumen?”

“Yeah! And cakes,” she called. “Buttercake, if possible. Twenty piece or so.”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m afraid so,” she muttered, hurrying out of the mall.

***

“What do you want the pitch for?” Ella stood next to Finn who was scanning the cloudy sky, waiting for the items he’d requested. The snow had stopped, at least. “Didn’t you say we need to find the lair?”

“Need to draw the dragon out.” His eyes sparkled like chips of ice, and she really should snap her mind to the matter at hand.

“How?”

“Buttercake. Mix it with pitch. Make the dragon eat it. Tried and sure method.”

“Tried and true,” she corrected absently. “What happened to the crest-controlling method?”

“This is a rock dragon. Not tamed. And breathing system is different.”

“There are different kinds of dragons?”

He gave her a look that told her exactly what he thought of her question. Ouch.

Agent Norton approached, kinda sideways, a touch warily. “The pitch is here, I sent someone to a crafts shop to get it for you.” He looked unsure if to laugh or scowl. “What now?”

“Finn.” She waved a hand in front of his face. “Your pitch is here.”

“And buttercake.”

Ella nodded firmly. “Coming right up.” If the dragon wanted buttercake, buttercake it would have.

“What are we dealing with?” Agent Norton asked, taking place next to her. She wasn’t sure that was such a good idea.

Two officers approached, carrying a stack of boxes, then another. Ella laid them out on the ground and opened them. “A dragon,” she said. The scent of sugar and butter filled the air. “So how do we do this?”

“Dragon?” Agent Norton laughed.

She really hoped he’d stick around so the dragon would fry him brown and crispy. “Do you mind? Don’t you have any witnesses to torture?”

Norton stomped away, muttering.

Finn knelt and drew out a knife. He began cutting holes into the cakes and Ella followed suit, gutting them. When Finn grabbed a tank of bitumen and poured the viscous liquid inside, Ella jerked back, the fumes stinging her nose and eyes.

“Why pitch?” She wiped her watering eyes.

“Chemical reaction. It will destroy it from inside.”

Ugh. “And why buttercake?”

Finn shrugged. “They like it.”

“How do you know?”

“I used something similar to hunt them.”

“I don’t suppose it will let us pet it while it eat its food?” Ella stood up.

Finn frowned. “It will be fine.”

Right. And her mother was a goblin. Oh wait, Finn had said ‘fine’, hadn’t he? Damn. She’d better get everyone to a safe distance.

Rounding up the gawping crowd proved hard. They resisted her none-too-gentle shoving and admonitions to move away, drawn to the scene of death like flies to spilled blood. Agent Norton and Sheila helped, casting Finn curious looks. He painted a strange and lonely picture, alone in the small square, arms folded across his chest, staring straight ahead. As she shoved another gawker back, she decided to hell with them. Let them suffer if they wanted. It was a free country.

She headed toward Finn, checking her ammo, patting her knives to make sure they were in place — when the air sizzled.

Blinding light. She turned her face aside and threw an arm over her eyes. A sound like a huge turbine turning, a roar, and she stepped forward, pointing her gun.

Shop windows broke in glittering showers of glass, littering the street. The dragon, its body covered in gems like faceted mirrors, landed with a thundering crash. The earth shook. Unlike the feathered dragon who’d attacked the building and fought with Finn, this one had a small lizard head on a short neck and tall, winding horns. Its body was like an enormous dog’s, only covered in white, clanking plates. Feathers grew down its back like a mane, and its claws were long and wicked.

It sniffed the air. Its tail lashed, smashing a bus parked outside a hotel, then to the other side, throwing a car to tumble into a newspaper kiosk. A bolt of fire shot from the dragon’s mouth, setting a flower stall on fire. Screams rang.

Ella couldn’t move. God, it was huge! And covered in what looked like rock slabs. Did Finn really think he could kill the creature? Maybe if she hit the eye...

Finn moved, scooping up a stack of cakes and racing toward the dragon. A cry caught in Ella’s throat. Was he mad? She broke into a run, reaching out to grab and pull him back — then the dragon dipped its head. Finn threw the cakes into the air, and the dragon snapped at the sweets, rising on its hind legs, its snake-like neck twisting right and left.

Finn dove under the dragon’s belly just as the creature came down, its forelegs smashing into the street.

Shit! Ella lost a precious moment gaping in horror, then sprinted toward the dragon, thoughts exploding inside her skull. Shoot it in the eye. Shoot its leg. Shoot it everywhere. Get Finn out. Please, get Finn out.

A massive leg stomped into the asphalt a few feet from her, cracking the concrete, and she zigzagged, trying to see under the plated belly. She thought she heard someone shout her name from behind, from the ranks of the spectators, but all her focus was on finding Finn. The dragon shifted, moving sideways, and she jumped out of the way, stumbling over the curb, and went sprawling. Shit shit shit! She scrambled on hands and legs, took aim and shot at the dragon’s head.

The dragon roared. The street trembled under her feet as she approached the creature, shooting round after round into its flanks, its tail, its legs — wherever she was sure Finn wasn’t. Bullets ricocheted off the dragon’s hide. They didn’t seem to be causing any damage. They did catch the being’s attention, though, and its head swiveled toward her.

“Finn!” The way the dragon was treading heavily about, he could be roadkill by now. Jesus, please, no. “Finn, where are you?”

Another roar, and the dragon turned about to face her, lowering its head, projecting its horns. Oh great, disembowelment. A new, fascinating way to die.

She glanced around. No side streets, no escape. A small fountain chirped joyfully a few dozen feet away. Better than nothing. She ran that way, the air heating up behind her, and she knew the dragon was about to breathe fire and burn her to crispy bacon.

A few more feet to the fountain, and she knew she wouldn’t make it. Story of her life.

A hiss filled the air, and a keening cry. The heat lessened. She dared look over her shoulder and skidded to a halt. She turned around, panting.

The dragon threw its head right and left, belching a black cloud, and contorted, a rumble echoing from within its body. Then it reared on its hind legs, spreading dirty white wings so wide they touched the buildings on either side of the street. And there was Finn, hanging from his knives which were embedded in the dragon’s belly. He’d dragged them down, opening twin slashes. As she watched, open-mouthed, he drew one out and stabbed it back in, twisting.

A boom sounded. The dragon’s head exploded in a fountain of gore. The huge scaly body began to fall.

Oh, holy god! Spinning around, she raced back toward the dragon. Before she’d come within thirty feet, the immense body crashed down on top of Finn.

She stumbled and stopped, mouth hanging open. Oh, fuck. The dragon lay dead, and Finn...

Her heart sledge-hammered against her breast. Her knees gave out and she slid down, bending over. She felt sick. Oh god...

“Ella!” Dave’s voice took some time to register. He crouched by her side, a concerned frown on his unshaven face. “Are you hurt?”

Losing two partners in the space of three days had to count as bad luck, right? Or was it carelessness? She couldn’t pull her thoughts straight. “No, I’m fine. It’s Finn, he’s...”

She’d been worried about him before, had feared for him — but it was nothing compared to this feeling of dying inside, of not wanting to get up ever again—

“Finn? He looks fine to me,” Dave said, turning and pointing.

Ella followed the direction and saw Finn stagger alongside the dragon, a knife in his hand.

Motherfucker. Probably making sure the dragon was dead, because Finn wasn’t... He wasn’t...

“You’re alive!” She didn’t realize how she found her feet and stumbled to him, only that a moment later her arms were full of Finn.

“What?” he mumbled, his breath tickling her neck.

She pulled back. “You’re okay.” She grabbed his shoulders, shook him lightly. “Dammit. Don’t do this again, you hear me?”

“Do what?” He looked so lost she wanted to kiss him.

“Put yourself in danger like that. Never. Nothing is worth your life.”

And when he still didn’t seem to get it, she hugged him tight. She couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop, not when he didn’t even understand she couldn’t lose him. “No dying, Finn, got it?”

“No dying,” he whispered against her neck, his arms coming around her, hugging her back.

Chapter Six

Forlorn

Finn had returned to the carcass, saying something about retrieving his knives. All around, technicians and police were trying to canvass the dragon’s body and keep away the gaping crowd. Useless, really. The journalists were already reporting to the TV channels and everyone was snapping photos.

“The Gates seem to be working fine,” Dave said from behind Ella.

“Two dragons and a troupe of wolves came through. Of course they work fine. Was there any doubt?”

Dave shrugged and stood next to her, hands in his pockets. “That winged snake didn’t make it. But this dragon obviously did, so the snake must have been a glitch.”

Glitch. Her eyes tracked without seeing a man breaking through the police line and running toward the dragon’s body, camera flashing. Maybe the snake predated the wolves and dragons. Maybe it was an earlier attempt to open the Gates. Although... Finn had crossed over long before the animals. What if he’d only been lucky to arrive whole?

She shivered.

“Are you cold?” Dave asked. “Shall I ask for a blanket from the paramedics?”

She shook her head.

“Have it your way.” He sighed. “I do believe the Gates have stabilized. We should expect an attack any moment now.”

Stabilized. A ‘stabilizer’, the word from Simon’s notes, danced in her head like a moth. “And are we ready?”

Dave chuckled and dug his knuckles into his eyes. He hung his head as if in thought. “No. The army is here, but we have no clue who John Grey is or how the elves will use him. We don’t know what technology they have, and Finn here,” he nodded at the elf who was directing the technicians to move the dragon, “who knows more than anyone should, is saying they have dragon steeds and who knows what else. That snake...”

Ella chewed on her lower lip. “Yeah. I know.”

“Was there something you wanted to tell me?” Dave gave her a sidelong look.

“About what?”

“About Finn.”

“Not really.” She pushed off the van she’d been leaning against. “I got to go.”

She didn’t need to look at Dave to see him scowl; she felt his hot glare on the back of her neck. Of course he wanted to know. Dave suspected Finn wasn’t who he pretended to be, but did he have any idea what he was? That he was letting her run with it only meant he wasn’t sure. He hoped she’d tell him. About Finn, about Simon, about whatever it was he thought she knew.

She knew now why she hesitated. She remembered Dave’s face when he’d spoken about the elves after the wolf attack. How he’d cursed and sworn to kill them all.

Would he kill Finn, too?

***

“Say that again?” Ella shouted over the noise in the bar. “Did we what?”

“I said, did you share a celebratory kiss?” Mike grinned, raising his beer glass.

“Damn you, Mike. No, actually we didn’t.” Ella threw Finn who sat next to her a quick look but he didn’t seem to have heard. He was staring into his pint with an air of intense concentration, brows knitted.

Or maybe he was going deaf from the noise.

“More beer anyone?” Scott rose from the table, pushing his blond bangs back. He gave Mike a wink and a bright smile. They seemed so happy together.

An odd pang of bittersweet pain made her turn again to Finn. She wanted... Wasn’t sure what exactly, but she wanted it from Finn.

Who seemed miles away, clutching his glass like a lifeline. “Hey, how about another beer?”

He didn’t twitch. She peered at him more closely. He was obviously lost in thought, turning his empty glass round and round in his hands. His head was bent and his ash-blond hair half-hid his face.

“What are you thinking?” she asked, leaning closer, inhaling his scent of sweet spice. No soap could ever cover it completely.

He stilled, looked at her sideways. “About the future.”

“Not tonight.” She squeezed his shoulder. “Tonight we celebrate the fact that you made it out alive.” She turned to Scott. “Another one for Finn. And for me.”

Scott gave her a thumbs-up and left in search of alcoholic bounty. Mike drank the last dregs from his glass and slammed it down. Behind them people danced to a rock song she couldn’t recognize. A haze hung in the air from cigarette smoke and laughter rang. It made her smile.

Finn was alive. She kept seeing the dragon falling, feeling the tearing pain of loss in her chest — then seeing him walking by the enormous body with his familiar limp. She sought his hand, found it and held it.

He lifted his gaze. There was a light in his eyes that wasn’t any sort of snow camouflage. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but Scott arrived and banged the beer glasses on the table.

Finn recoiled, drawing back his hand.

“Relax,” Ella said, pushing his glass toward him. “Cheers.”

Finn looked doubtful but dutifully gulped down half his beer in one swig, going a little cross-eyed. Ella snickered and patted his arm.

Finn smiled and it was blinding and brilliant and Ella ran out of adjectives to describe it. God, baby, you oughta smile more often. Making sure she wasn’t drooling, she sipped her beer and laughed at a joke Scott made.

“I worked as a bartender once,” Mike declared. “I make the best Tequila shots on this side of the universe.”

“And why am I only hearing this now?” Ella raised her glass. “When were you going to demonstrate your skills?”

“He’s got skills!” Scott snickered, slinging an arm around Mike’s shoulders.

Ella laughed. “I worked as a bartender at college. Had no complaints.”

“I served tables at college,” Scott said. “I think everyone has done this sort of job at some point.”

“Finn too,” Ella said. “Worked as a waiter, right, Finn?”

Finn snorted. His eyes were bright. His glass was empty. Wow, that was quick.

“You meet all kinds of people,” Scott said. “They just open up to you, tell you their troubles.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah.”

“You had friends back there, didn’t you?” Ella was suddenly very interested. It wasn’t every day you caught Finn in a talking mood.

“I met this woman. Norma Jones.”

The sting in Ella’s chest surprised her. What, was she jealous now? Ridiculous.

“A girl.” Scott waggled his brows. “Pretty one, I’ll bet.”

Finn didn’t even blink at that. “She lost her husband. She was lonely. We used to talk before she moved to another town. Jamesville, I think.”

“Just talk?” Mike muttered, grinning. “Are you sure?”

“How come you left her and moved to the big city, man?” Scott asked.

“I...” Finn shook his head. “Dreams.”

“Of a bright future not involving irritable customers?” Mike nodded wisely.

“No.” Finn’s gaze was a little wild. He glanced from Mike to Ella. “Dreams of... something else. I’ll get the next round.” He got up before she could formulate a response.

“Wait, Finn!” But it was too late, he was gone in the direction of the bar.

“Touched a nerve?” Mike asked, nodding at Finn’s back.

“Damned if I know,” Ella said, mystified. A dream of what? What had drawn him to the city? Deciphering the big Finn enigma was hard work. “Dave is pushing for me to talk to him. And I know I should, about the book at least. Maybe he can see things in it you and I can’t. Then I think Simon didn’t trust him. And then I think I’m an idiot. Simon wasn’t who I thought he was, so what does it matter even if I’m right and he didn’t trust Dave?” She fiddled with her glass. “This is driving me crazy. Why can’t we find out what sort of creature John Grey was? Someone so important, there must be more clues about him. Dave said he’s been looking everywhere for more information but nothing has come up. You read the book. Why were the elves interested in Sirurd’s daughter? What was that all about?”

Mike snorted. “Beats me. The elves have nothing good to say about her. A common human, her only virtues lay in sewing and embroidering. A very stable person.”

“What did you say?” Ella blinked at Mike.

“Sewing. She was apparently an accomplished seamstress, and her embroidery—”

“No, did you say she was stable?”

Licking his lips, Mike leaned back. “What, is it some secret code or something?”

“Just tell me exactly where the passage is.” Dammit, where was the book? She rummaged in her backpack until she found it, and plopped it on the table.

Giving her a dubious look, Mike opened the book and flipped through the pages. “I don’t understand what’s important about that. She was a woman of her time, did the things expected of her. No flights of fancy, no hysteria, no fainting spells. A solid human presence. Probably what attracted the elves... They also liked nice clothes...”

Ella drummed her fingers.

“Ah, here it is.” Mike pointed at the line. “A virtuous and simple girl, ignorant of the elven ways yet excellent at sewing habits and skirts and the best in the kingdom in embroidering with silk and precious gems. A stabilizer—”

“That. That word.” Ella’s heart raced.

“Beg your pardon?” Mike’s expression now verged on pitying.

“You didn’t say she was a stable woman. She was a stabilizer.”

“I guess I did.” Mike frowned. He glanced sideways at Scott, but his attention had shifted to a giant TV screen mounted on the wall showing the dragon carcass and the milling crowd. “So what does it really mean?”

Ella swallowed the rest of her beer in one swig and wiped her mouth. “I wish I knew. But in Simon’s notes, he mentions the word once or twice.” Where was the paper? She panicked for a moment, thinking she’d lost it, hunting for it in all her pockets, then remembered she’d placed it in the book. She flipped to the end and pulled it out. “E. is improving,” she read. “A good stabilizer.”

Mike whistled. “Do you think this is the ability the elves wanted her for? And does that mean...” He swallowed. “Do you think the elves are now interested in you?”

“They seem more interested in Finn right now.” Talking of whom... “Hey, where’s Finn? Shouldn’t he be back by now?”

Mike frowned. “I can’t see him.”

Cold tightened her chest. She rose from her seat. “I’ll go find him.”

***

Ella waded through the dancing and staggering crowd, heading toward the bar. Fear closed sharp claws around her throat. Had the Shades attacked him even here? Had a Gate opened, a wolf torn him to pieces?

Shut up, shut up! She’d have heard the screams, seen the commotion. Then where was he? Reaching the bar, she swept her gaze along its glowing plastic surface, searching the faces for a familiar bandana. Finn wasn’t there.

Calling out his name in the deafening mixture of rock music and loud voices would be a waste of breath. She kept walking, checking faces, her heart booming with apprehension. Hands smacked into her, legs tripped her up, faces leered — just fear, so she kept walking, shoving her way through. Just people, not Shades, so she kept her hands away from her knives. All’s fine.

Then she saw him. Finn stood half hidden behind a square pillar, arms folded over his chest, head bent. He was watching something.

“Hey.” She moved in next to him, tried to see what it was that had him so fascinated. “I thought you were going to get us some beer?”

Finn blinked at her. “...Beer?”

“Had too much of it, have you?” She winked, grabbed his arm and tugged. He resisted, turned again to whatever it was he’d been observing.

This time she noticed a little boy sitting at one of the tables, looking forlorn.

“I’m sure his mother just went to get him something,” she said. “They also serve food here.”

Still he didn’t budge. He wrenched his arm out of her grip and leaned back against the pillar, watching.

It seemed important to him. And she wanted to see if she’d guessed right. The wait wasn’t long. A few minutes later, the mother returned, carrying two plates piled with food. The boy’s face lit up.

Finn’s shoulders relaxed.

“Come on,” Ella said. “Let’s get back to the others. They’ll be worried.”

He pushed off the wall and let her take his arm, heading back to their table. Mike looked up when they approached, brows lifting, but said nothing about the lack of beer.

“Everything okay?”

She nodded, forcing a smile. “Perfect.”

Scott told a funny story of how he and Mike met, something about a double blind date and how they escaped together and found they liked each other much better than their dates. Ella listened with one ear, watching Finn who was relaxing again in degrees. Damn the man — elf — he nearly broke her heart every time he looked sad. And if anything happened to him — or worse, if he betrayed her trust, she’d hurt like hell. As if her family hadn’t dealt her enough pain, as if Simon’s death and possible betrayal hadn’t burned a hole into her chest, she had to go and fall for an elf hunted by the Shades and with a past so dark she wasn’t even sure she wanted to know all of it.

“Come, Finn, your turn,” Mike called, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. “How did you meet Ella? I bet there’s a funny story waiting to be told.”

Oh, boy. Finn blinked, shot her a questioning glance. Well, it wasn’t a funny story, but it wasn’t a secret either. She shrugged.

“She saved me from the Shades,” Finn said.

Silence fell. Mike and Scott waited for a few moments, leaning eagerly forward in their seats, then seemed to realize nothing else was forthcoming and slumped back.

“And?” Mike waved a hand in the air.

“She took me home.” The last word rang with some deep emotion, like a crystal bell, and Ella’s eyes stung.

She smiled and gave him a nudge on the arm. “Best decision ever.”

Finn flinched. She frowned. He’d seemed quite relaxed.

“Jeez, get a room you two.” Scott stuck his tongue out. “You’re so sweet my teeth ache.”

A hot flush rose to Ella’s cheeks. It was probably the alcohol. Yeah.

Mike laughed, muttering how romantic it was, and clapped Finn on the shoulder.

Finn winced and jerked back in his chair, covering his shoulder with his hand.

And realization dawned. Shit. She hadn’t checked him over after the fight with the dragon, too giddy he’d made it out alive. When asked, he’d said he was fine — which should have set off all her alarm bells.

“Guys, I think it’s time to hit the sack.” She faked a yawn, and it turned into a real jaw-cracking one. A glance at her watch told her it was getting late.

“Already?” Scott gestured at the crowd around them. “The night is young.”

But Mike only nodded. “Talk to you tomorrow,” he mouthed against the noise and waved them goodbye.

***

They hurried out the door and into the quiet. The apartment wasn’t far. Lights from windows and restaurants reflected on the snow still lying on the ground and Finn’s hair. He strode fast, keeping pace, and her worry faded a little. He couldn’t be badly hurt if he moved like that, right?

Then again, this was Finn.

Their building was dark and silent, the only sound a woman’s laughter from upstairs. The lift was their new best friend, and they rode it to the fifth floor.

Finally inside the apartment, she caught Finn’s hand and dragged him to his bedroom. It occurred to her she hadn’t been inside since they’d moved in. It was Finn’s space and she’d respected it. Not that he had any personal items as far as she could tell.

The bed was made with military precision, the protective symbols in the headboard deep and carefully carved. Some iron charms she’d given him hung from the handle of the window — old horse shoes she’d found in a country fair long ago, and a plaque with a spiral pattern.

Funny how she saw spirals everywhere now.

She tugged at Finn’s jacket. “Off.”

Raising a brow, he shed it and laid it on the bed. She pushed him down, against the pillows. “Sweater and shirt. Off.”

“I’m okay.” He sat up, cheeks still flushed from the cold.

“You’re hurt. I need to check your—”

“Just bruises.” However, he started pulling at his sweater, his movements slow. She leaned over him to help and tried to focus on the task at hand — not his lips, not his eyes, not the softness of his hair against her fingers, like silk and feathers. Sweater finally off, she started on his stained and ripped long-sleeved shirt and decided it was time to take Finn shopping. He was fast running out of usable clothes.

Finn winced when he lifted his arms to help her remove the shirt, losing the bandana on the way too, and then just sat, shivering.

Ella sank on the mattress next to him, suddenly feeling too warm all over. She remembered the wicked scar across his chest, but god, he was strong, pale skin stretched over hard muscle, and a six-pack to die for. Eye-candy indeed. She’d get diabetes if she stared any longer.

“I, um...” Focus! “I’ll...” She ran her fingertips up his arm and he followed her hand with his gaze.

Just bruises. His arms were black and blue, his shoulders interesting shades of purple. Nothing swollen, though, and he could move them which — probably — meant nothing was broken. Hard to be sure. After all, this was the guy who, as a child, had dragged himself to a village, a day’s walk away, with bone splinters sticking out of his leg.

At least the gauze taped to his side was clean; no bleeding from the old gashes. She drew a long breath. “Are you sure it’s just bruising?”

He nodded and the charms he wore jingled against his chest.

She saw him again underneath the stone-plated dragon, saw the moment the creature crashed, when she thought he’d died.

Hurriedly she got up, her chest a mass of heaving emotions. No. Too soon, too complicated. She’d do something really stupid and regret it later. “Try and get some sleep.”

She left his room, not looking back, proud she managed. Not that she expected to get any sleep herself.

Surprisingly, she did. She’d planned to check the book some more, but before even finishing a page of obscure references to the aesir, the Norse gods, and the list of sacrifices Sirurd promised them, she fell into a dream where darkness swirled, swallowing her down.

She drifted in a black stream, seeing faces and places she was sure she knew but couldn’t place. Trees sighed overhead, and streams gurgled, monsters lurked in the shadows, and she kicked and cursed, because she wanted to leave, to get back home.

The darkness expanded and contracted, seemed to be breathing. A voice called her, invited her closer, and she fought it. A face appeared — deep-set eyes, a strong nose. A man’s lined face, a familiar face, a scar running down one cheek, distorting his mouth.

“Can you hear me?” he asked and the wind howled around them, stinging her skin like needles. “I can help you, but you must come with me.”

She wanted him to leave. Wanted to escape him. He was going to hurt her again, and there was nothing she could do. She tried to shout but no sound came from her throat.

This is not my memory, she wanted to say. Leave me out of it.

With a huge gasp, she came awake, wrapped in her blankets and drenched in sweat. Blearily she blinked about. Her room, objects floating in dimness, carton boxes and a chair with her clothes thrown on it.

Oh, thank god, just a dream.

She lifted her hand to turn on the bedside table lamp, when there was a noise. It seemed to come from the other side of the wall. Probably what woke her in the first place. She lowered her hand, listened.

A whimper, a muffled cry.

Ella swung her legs off the bed. Finn. Grabbing her gun from the chair, she slunk to the door. The floor was so cold it numbed her bare feet, and her legs trembled in the thin pajamas.

Pausing in the doorway, she took aim. Nothing moved in the hall. Finn’s door was half-open. She nudged it with her foot and stepped inside.

Thin strips of white light fell through the window slats — the moon was out. The room was empty but for the lump under the covers that had to be Finn. Stepping around the bed, she stopped by the window, her gun gripped tight.

Finn shifted, a muffled groan leaving his lips. He kicked at the blankets, his body tensing, hands clutching at nothing.

Looked like she wasn’t the only one with nightmares.

“Hey.” Lowering the gun, she stepped closer. Pain didn’t allow for good rest. She should’ve offered painkillers but it had been the last thing on her mind when she’d left his room that evening. “Wake up. You’re okay.” Leaning over, she shook him. “Finn!”

He jerked backward, sitting up. She hunted for the lamp and turned on the light.

Finn wasn’t looking at her. He stared down at his leg, his eyes wide and terrified, his breathing harsh in the quiet. What the hell was going on?

“Finn, talk to me.” You’re scaring me. “What’s wrong?”

He grimaced as if in pain and stretched out his leg — his bad leg, she realized, seeing the outline of the knee band through the thin material of his pants. “Did you hurt it yesterday?”

Finn lifted his hand and let it hover over his leg, his face pale, breathing still coming hard and fast. He hadn’t put on a shirt and the lamp light picked out every bruise and cut. “Blod,” he said, voice thin.

“Blood? Where?” She sat down next to him, cast the light on his leg and frowned. The grey cloth was clean and spotless. “There’s nothing, Finn, you’re fine.”

“Minn bein,” Finn muttered, and then something that sounded more like the humming of a song.

“Bein.” Old Norse again? “What happened to English, huh?” She rifled through the words she knew. “What about your bone?”

Finn was staring at his leg as if... as if the bone stuck out.

Oh, shit. Looked like not all Finn’s flashbacks had to do with the army. Was he even awake?

“Look, I’ll...” What? She put down the flashlight to illuminate her movements and smiled at Finn. A flash of inspiration struck her right between the eyes. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of it.”

Reaching out cautiously, she placed a hand on Finn’s thigh. He flinched but she did her best to ignore it. “I’ve stopped the bleeding, see?”

Finn’s nod was uncertain but after a moment his shoulders started to relax.

“Now...” She moved her hand down to the knee and pressed. “Setting the bone.” She moved her hand down, smoothing over the ragged scar she knew lay below the cloth. “Okay?”

Finn’s eyes tracked her movements. Another beat of silence, and he leaned back, propping himself on his elbows. His breathing slowed.

“You’ll be fine,” Ella said, keeping her voice low. “You just need to sleep now.”

He didn’t resist when she pushed him flat on his back. “Ella,” he murmured.

He knew who she was even though he didn’t know where or when he was. Her heart was melting into a puddle.

“I’m right here.” She should just walk out, go back to bed. He was all right. She pulled the covers up to his chest and patted them. “You’re okay.”

“Please,” he whispered, and she looked up.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to go back.” His eyes were slits of blue. “Don’t let them take me.”

Her heart did a little flip-over in her chest. “I’ll do my best.” Because how could she promise him that when they both knew the Shades could leap out of the Grey at any moment and drag him through? But he was asking, the fear still plain to see on his face, and he was hers to protect and keep safe. “Go back to sleep.”

He shivered and squeezed his eyes shut, lips white, pressed in a line.

And that was it. Resistance was futile. She placed the gun on the floor and sat beside him on the bed.

“I’m here. I won’t let anyone take you.”

He reached for her and she climbed into the bed with him, resting her head on his chest, bruises and all. He clasped her close, and she drew up the covers. He was warm and solid, and his heart thumped steadily under her ear. His arms enclosed her, and as she started to relax, his body lost its rigidity and he molded against her, his chin coming to rest on top of her head. Scent of spice and sugar, filling the world.

She sighed, content, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter Seven

Torn

Warm. Safe. Quiet. Sunlight fell in golden lines through the blinds, striping the broad bare back she held onto. On one shoulder, a dark starburst caught her eye. A birthmark. Her fingers moved on his side, and found gauze taped in place. She buried her nose in silky, pale hair and inhaled its sweetness, laced with a hint of musk and spice. Mmmm, nice. A dark-tipped ear poked out of the pale hair, pointed like a cat’s.

Finn. She blinked. The night’s events rushed back. That wasn’t her room. She was in Finn’s bed.

Uh oh.

Gently she drew back. Still dressed in her pajamas. Oh, good. Not that she hadn’t imagined what it would be like to make out with Finn. There were moments it was all she could think about. But however she looked at it, it seemed a royally bad idea.

Extricating herself from the knot of covers, she was about to leave the bed when Finn stirred. She hesitated. Go or watch him wake?

Decisions, decisions... And she found she couldn’t take her eyes off him. It was a guilty pleasure — yet another. Indulging a lot these days, Ella.

Kneeling on the mattress, she waited as he let out a puff of air and rolled on his back, tensing, then relaxing when he saw her. She saw the moment his eyes softened and he smiled.

Breathtaking.

And when had she fallen so hard, dammit?

“Rise and shine,” she said brightly, turning away and getting up, hoping to hide whatever was showing on her face. Never was good at hiding her emotions and the way she felt...

She rushed across the hall to the bathroom and closed the door behind her, leaning against it and letting out a breath. A shower, that was what she needed.

With jerky movements, she tore off her pajama and stepped under the hot spray. God, too much on her mind without her lusting after Finn. The Gates, the Shades, the dragons... The invasion. Grabbing the shampoo, she rubbed her skull roughly, the foam burning her eyes. A good distraction. She scrubbed her skin until it was red and raw, and let the water wash it all away, down the drain.

Not the best of renewal rituals but it’d have to do.

Wrapped in a towel, she checked if the hallway was empty. It was. She trudged to her bedroom where she dressed and combed her hair, squeezing the excess water in a puddle on the floor. She bent to wipe it and caught a whiff of spice on the air.

Goddamn, now she could smell Finn from across the apartment? Definitely not a good sign.

She pulled on her boots and went in search of breakfast.

Finn was in the kitchen, heating water in the kettle. She stopped and he looked up, his blue eyes uncertain.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Tea, actually.” She forced herself to enter and take a seat. “There’s that instant coffee crap if you want.”

He nodded, pulled it out of the cupboard.

“Do you have coffee over there? In Aelfheim?”

He shook his head as he measured the instant coffee in one chipped mug, and dropped a bag of tea in the other.

“Nothing to help you wake up in the morning?” God, she was babbling. Why was she so nervous? They hadn’t even slept together — well, they had, but not that way. Awkward.

“Ka leaves.” Finn poured the water into the mugs. “We chew them.”

Oh. Her mind blanked and she accepted her mug with a nod. Finn sat across from her, the plastic chair squeaking. He looked good. Rested. Yes, rested, not good. That was all. “And what do you have for breakfast?”

She thought he wouldn’t answer. He stirred his coffee, threw her another uncertain look. Tension hummed along the lines of his body. “Whatever is available,” he muttered.

Right. Raised by a hunter in the mountains, hunting for scraps of food, not in the elven palaces, his breakfast served on silver platters. “And what did you hunt—”

“I want to help,” Finn said.

She gaped. “Sorry?”

“To stop the invasion.” He clutched the mug until she thought he’d crush it.

“Good, I...” She tried to untangle her thoughts. “You know a lot about the elves... about your people, I mean.” God, what was it with her today? One night sleeping next to Finn and her brain was a knot. “You can tell us about their weapons and machines and...”

“I want to fight with you.” He pushed back his mug, his expression determined. “I don’t know much about their army, their plans, or why they want me now. But I do know I don’t trust them. And I don’t want to go back.”

***

Finn was in the bathroom, salvaging what he could of their blades. After the dragon fight, for the first time since she’d joined the Bureau, she’d forgotten to clean her knives.

Well, Finn had forgotten, too. Small consolation. The blades had been corroded with ichor, eaten away and rusted.

Dave hadn’t called yet, which meant no attacks, or at least nothing so big he couldn’t handle it with the others.

She sat at the kitchen table trying to decide what to do next. Finn seemed serious about helping. He’d rattled off types of weapons and vehicles, tactics he thought the elves might follow. He hadn’t been in the army long enough to know more, apparently, and his rank had been the lowest. He’d also been far from the Boreals’ palaces and tables, so he hadn’t overheard anything. Of all the Boreals, he was the least suited to advise her on how to tackle the invasion.

But he was on the humans’ side.

She had to find a way to tell Dave this without betraying Finn’s nature. Of course, Finn didn’t know anything about the Gates or how to close them, something the elves apparently knew. Or did they?

And what about Simon? What about John Grey? What was his role?

She got up and wandered to the bathroom. Finn knelt in the shower, scrubbing away the rust from a blade. His hands seemed dipped in blood. She shuddered.

“Hey.” She leaned on the door frame, folding her arms over her chest. “Question for you.”

Finn raised a pale eyebrow and went on scrubbing.

“A Guardian. A Duergr. Would he consume food?”

“No.”

Clear and to the point. At least Finn and the old epic agreed. “Not even the newer models?”

“Liquids.”

Okay, this had to be clarified. “The newer models can drink but not eat?”

Finn nodded.

“But that means Simon can’t have been a Duergr.”

Finn grunted. It sounded like an affirmative.

“You don’t believe he was one, either. Why? You never knew him.”

“Wolves killed him. Duergar are hard to kill.”

Aha. “Are elves hard to kill as well?”

Shaking his head, Finn put down the knife he’d been cleaning. “We’re resistant to illness and infection. But a blade or bullet can kill us the same as you.”

It was her turn to nod. Interesting.

Finn was looking at her, his eyes wary.

Ella slid down the wall until she sat across from him. She could see every muscle, defined through the material of his t-shirt, the curve of his neck, his soft lips. His scent reached her nostrils and she inhaled, regretting it an instant later when her body reacted and heat climbed her cheeks.

“Tell me more about your world,” she said. “About your queen. About her plans. It looks like the Gates are stabilizing.” And I may be playing a role in this, although I don’t know what it could be. “Your people may cross over any moment now.”

Finn’s mouth flattened. He let his rust-stained hands hang between his knees and leaned his head back against the tiled wall. “Queen Adramar.”

“How would she attack?”

“On dragonback and with flying machines. Distortion guns, absorb swords, hurricane engines. Unless she has weapons and vehicles I never saw.”

Her lips moved, going over the words he’d spoken. “You told me about the absorb swords, but what are distortion guns and... never mind. You can explain these things when we have a meeting with Dave.”

Finn tensed, head coming up.

“I know you don’t trust him,” Ella said, raising a placating hand, “but in this at least we need to collaborate. We need to stop the invasion, and without Dave’s backup we won’t do much. He’s the one with the power and the connections to the defense ministry. Besides.” She shrugged. “It’s not like he trusts you, either. But we have to work together or we’re toast.”

Finn’s jaw clenched. He glared. Joy.

“Finn?”

“I don’t trust him because something is off about him.”

“Excuse me?” Ella hadn’t expected that. “He’s secretive, sure, but if there’s someone who’s off here is you.”

Finn twitched, and his face went blank. Well, blanker. He grabbed the knife he’d been cleaning and bent over it, raising the whetstone.

Oh. Oh! Damn. That hadn’t come out so good. “Hey, Finn, listen. Don’t take it like that. What I meant is he’s human. You’re an elf, right? That’s all. And he doesn’t trust elves.”

“How about you?”

Ella stilled. She tugged on her ponytail. “I don’t trust elves either.”

The sound of the whetstone on steel raised gooseflesh on her arms. “I see.”

Shit. “I want to trust you.” She rose and brushed the dust from her pants. “Please. If you know anything about John Grey, about the attack plans of the elves...”

She waited but Finn went on polishing, face hidden by his hair.

Great.

With a sigh, she turned and walked out of the bathroom. Finn’s quiet voice stopped her.

“The Gates.”

Shoving her hands in her pockets, she swung around, tried to look cool while her heart tried to thump its way out of her chest. “What about the Gates?”

“John Grey’s role.”

“What? He guards the Gates? I thought that was the job of the Gua—”

“Opening the Gates.” Finn peered up at her through his hair.

Oh, shit. Her knees shook. No wonder the Light elves wanted John Grey, and wanted him safe. And if the Dark elves were against the opening of the Gates, no wonder they wanted to harm him. Jeez, it all made sense. Not a weapon per se, this Johnny person, but a means to an invasion. An irreplaceable one.

“And do you know where he is? What he’s like?”

Finn shook his head.

Not enough to dampen her elation. She could kiss Finn for this. Okay, she could kiss him no matter what, if she thought he wouldn’t punch if she tried — but whoa...  “Thank you, Finn.”

Flipping her phone open, she called Dave.

***

“Yes, it makes sense,” Dave said, standing at his desk, hands clasped behind his back. His eternal three-day beard shaded his cheeks and chin. “Of course everyone would treat him, or her, like gold.”

“Her?” Ella muttered, propping her feet on Dave’s paper-laden table.

“Feet off,” Dave said and turned to glare at the door and Finn. “Close it.”

Finn kicked the door shut. Dave’s face spasmed and his fists came forward as if he’d grab Finn and beat him into the wall.

Whoa. Ella dropped her feet and shot upright. “Dave. Calm down.”

Dave turned his back to them. “I’m perfectly calm. Yeah, it all makes sense now. Why the Guardians and the Dark elves would be after him. He must be alive or the Gates wouldn’t have opened.” He took a shuddery breath. “He can’t be allowed to live.”

“Or she, huh? Joanne Grey or something?” Ella walked around the desk to face Dave. “Killing him presupposes finding him, and if the Light Elves are the ones with the urge to invade worlds, then we can safely assume that they have him and are keeping him safe.”

Finn scowled at nothing in particular, muscular arms crossed over his chest, legs apart. His gaze snapped to her, eyes narrowing.

Hurriedly she looked away. Stop panting after him, Ella. Very unbecoming in a special agent. “So what next? Does the organization have any guidelines for this sort of situation?”

“I’ll have to notify my superiors,” Dave grated out, turning to nail Finn with his gaze. Finn shifted his stance and lowered his chin, glowering daggers.

Oh boy. Alpha males.

“We need to talk numbers here,” Dave grumbled, lifting his chin at Finn — what, a challenge? “Do you know how many elves we’re talking here, son? And weapons?”

Finn didn’t miss a beat. “They don’t need many to defeat you, old man.”

“Humor me,” Dave hissed and rounded the desk, advancing on Finn. “Do that and I won’t take you into custody to make you confess who you really are.”

“Dave.” Ella rushed to insert herself between the two men, raising a hand to stop Dave. She’d punch him if she had to, boss or not. “Back down.”

“How can you ask me—”

“She has over a hundred dragons,” Finn said, his voice cutting through. “And at least forty hurricane engines. And that’s just the ones I know of.”

Dave wiped a hand over his mouth. “What do hurricane machines do?”

“Create hurricanes.” Finn cocked his head to the side. “And storms.”

Ella sucked a sharp breath. “With added magic.”

Finn nodded.

“What’s the fuel they use?” Dave asked.

“Natural gas. Similar to yours.”

Dave cursed. “That means they can recharge their machines here. Any chemical weapons?”

“Seeds. Of special mushrooms.” Finn swallowed hard. “They take root inside you, eat you up.”

“Lovely,” Ella muttered. “Finn has told me of more crazy weapons the elves will use on us. Sick stuff, I tell you.”

“What can we do to survive?” Dave asked.

Finn shrugged. “Run.”

“Run where?” Dave snapped.

“Far,” Finn said, baring his teeth. “Very, very far.”

“We must find John Grey and stop him,” Dave said. “Closing the Gates permanently is our only chance. And you.” He jabbed a finger at Finn. “You know more about this, as you’ve just proven by telling us about John Grey’s abilities. I’d bet my life on it. And you’d better start talking.”

“Or what?” Finn said, lips peeling back in a sneer, ice-blue eyes fixed on Dave.

Shit. “Guys. We’re working on this together, right? Killing each other won’t help.”

“You’re not one of us,” Dave hissed at Finn. “Are you?”

“As much as you are,” Finn hissed back.

“We’ll see about that, sonny.”

“Dammit, stop!” Ella got in Dave’s face. “Get off his back.”

“Are you on their side now, too?”

“Their side? What, the elves’? Are you out of your mind?” She placed a hand on Dave’s chest, intent on shoving him back, but an electric shock went through her arm and she jerked back. “The hell?”

“Don’t,” Dave ground out. “Don’t tell me you’re not pro-elf, Ella. You’re fascinated by them, aren’t you? I read Simon’s notes, you know. You can see through to their world, can’t you?”

Cradling her numb hand to her chest, she took a step back, fear spreading like ice inside her. “I can’t remember any of it, Dave. We’re trusting in the notes of someone we never really even knew.”

“He had no reason to lie. How could you see through the Veil?”

“I don’t know.” She took another step back and a hand landed on her shoulder, startling her so badly she yelped.

Finn stepped in front of her. “What is it you want?”

“I want to know what’s going on,” Dave spat out the words. “I want to know how she can see Aelfheim, and what a Stabilizer is. I want to know who you are and your role in this mess. I want...” He heaved a breath. “I want to understand and to protect this world.”

“Then we want the same,” Finn said, his voice steady and calm. “I said I’m on your side, and I meant it. I don’t expect you to believe me, but it’s the truth.”

So if your mother beckoned once more, wouldn’t you run back to her? Ella shook her hand, trying to bring back some feeling into it. God, she wanted to believe Finn wouldn’t betray them — but one had to be as objective as possible, right?

Even where it concerned a really hot elf.

Said elf turned to her and sniffed. “Vaettir,” he bit out, and oh, boy, did she hate that word.

“Where?”

“Outside.”

Ella drew her gun in one movement and went to the door, easing it open.

“What’s going on?” Dave asked.

Ella pointed her gun through the crack, checking the corridor. “Shades.”

***

Ella had hoped Finn would hang back — after all, for whatever reason the Shades seemed to want him — but of course he didn’t. He fought by her side moving down the HQ main corridor, Dave at their back. Terrified people scurried about, trying to keep out of the way, hiding inside the offices, under desks and behind chairs.

“No warning,” Dave grumbled.

“Told you,” Ella hissed as she spun to kick a goblin solidly in the middle, then stepped in to bury her knife in its gut. Or whatever it was it had. The goblin shrieked and puffed out of existence.

Finn grunted as he stabbed into a rock troll and dropped to one knee to avoid the fist of another. Ella drew a shuriken from her belt — a girl could never carry too many weapons — and threw it at the creature. It struck the troll in the forehead, sending it backward, and it wavered and fizzled out.

“We have wards lining the whole HQ, dammit,” Dave muttered right behind her and there was another shriek. She turned as another goblin faded back to the Grey.

“Not working. Things are changing.”

A woman — one of the accountants, Ella thought distantly — made a run for the elevators. A six-foot troll intercepted her and smashed her against the wall. The woman slid down and sprawled. Dead?

No time to find out. Finn shoved Dave and stepped in front of him, slashing a Shade in an upward thrust, then spun and threw his knife into another. Dave gaped for a moment before schooling his expression back to a scowl and turning to tackle another troll.

Advance, slash, retreat, check over shoulder, duck, thrust, fall back. A familiar dance, and Ella lost herself in it.

Then she heard Finn cursing; at least it sounded like it. Drawing another shuriken she whirled to find him held in a troll’s meaty fist, feet dangling. Deja vu. An alley. Finn kicking at a troll’s legs, trying to break free.

And again Finn was in the way of her bullets. No clear target. Dammit.

She drew back her hand and threw the shuriken in an arch; it grazed the creature’s arm and it stumbled back, but didn’t let go of Finn. Her gun. She pulled it free of its holster and aimed, but damn, target still not clear. Finn kicked and slashed with his knife but couldn’t get a good hit in.

“Ella!” Dave shouted and pushed her sideways, his knife gleaming as it arced over her head, hitting something right behind her. The air sizzled. Two goblins closed in and she raised her other hand with the knife, backpedaling.

Two shots rang, one after the other, felling the goblins. Not iron bullets, because they didn’t vanish, but Ella stepped over them and finished them off, vaporizing them.

Who had shot them? She looked up and frowned. “Sarah?”

Simon’s girlfriend — stiletto heels, mini skirt and all — held the gun in both hands, looking grim.

Ella never thought she’d be so glad to see her. Then the air shimmered behind the troll holding Finn off the floor. Faces pulsed through it, coalescing into the form of a woman. A familiar one.

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.

Were Dave and John Grey the same person?

***

Unable to face Dave just yet, she called in sick. Called Finn in sick as well, and to hell with regulations. She didn’t think Dave would want Finn to come in to HQ without her anyway.

Staying home wasn’t doing her nerves any good, though. She slammed things in the kitchen, then walked out into the living room and paced, tugging on her hair until her scalp hurt.

What a mess.

Finn, seated in an armchair, seemed way too calm about all this.

She pointed a finger at him. “You suspected he wasn’t human, didn’t you?”

“I said something was off.” Finn was checking his gun, his movements calm.

No wonder they’d hit it off like oil and water. If Dave was a Guardian, a minion to the Dark elves, he was an enemy to Finn’s kind and against the opening of the Gates. But then... If Dave was John Grey, then he’d turned against his makers and worked with the Light elves, trying to open the Gates.

God. She grabbed her head. Her brain would boil over and run out of her ears soon. She looked up. Finn was staring at her, a mildly amused expression on his face, a corner of his mouth lifted into a half smile.

“What?” she snapped. “What’s so funny?”

Finn shook his head. “Your hair.”

“What about my hair?” She ran a hand over her tortured ponytail.

Finn rose from the chair and stepped close, hands lifted as if afraid she’d shoot him. She forced herself to breathe and relax her shoulders. Finn reached up and smoothed a hand over her head, tucking a longer strand behind her ear. His fingers trailed down her neck, warm and rough. Shivers raced through her.

God, he was so close she had to look up to see his face, and heat radiated off him, drawing her in. He bent his head and his hair tickled her cheeks, soft as silk tassels, and his hand still rested on her, lightly curled around her neck, sending shockwaves through her body.

The room faded. Her heartbeat drowned out all else — the honking of the cars below, someone shouting in the street, all gone.

Finn was all she could see, and she reached up to cup his face. She’d wanted to do that since the first time she’d seen him. When his lips parted, she pushed up on tiptoe as if under a spell. Closer, she needed to be closer.

Suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her against him, and his mouth was on hers, softly kissing.

Her eyes closed, stars bursting against her lids. His taste... Who needed chocolate after this? Finn pressed her backward, until she hit the kitchen counter, and his strong body molded to hers, all hard planes and steel-corded limbs. As close to heaven as one could get.

Hell yeah, her body was shouting. At last! Go for it!

Eventually he drew back, gasping, and she blinked hazy eyes, every breath filled with his spice. God, she could stay like that forever, hanging on to fistfuls of Finn’s t-shirt, draped all over him like a starfish.

Heh. Looked like Finn was into women after all.

Then the whole mess smashed back into her thoughts — Dave, the impending invasion, the strange memories from her childhood. She shook her head to clear it. This... was a bad idea, especially now, today.

Finn leaned forward, sought her mouth again. She wanted him. She ached with it.

But she turned her face to the side, so his lips only brushed her cheek. “Finn, wait...” She groped for something to say. “What about your mother?”

Silence greeted her words. Finn stilled and drew back, his brows pulling together. His mouth worked without sound. “...My mother?” he muttered.

Damn. “I mean... She’s appeared to you twice already, asking you to go back. What will you do?” Oh god, what am I doing?

Finn took a step back, and cold wrapped around her. His face blanked. Jeez, why had she stopped him? Yet somehow she was sure she shouldn’t be getting close and personal with Finn. Not now. Not if she wanted to keep any measure of objectivity.

Hell, Ella, isn’t it too late for that?

“You’re afraid I will run back to Aelfheim,” Finn said. It wasn’t a question.

Ella shrugged, feeling like an ogre, her body lamenting the loss of contact with Finn’s lips, Finn’s skin. “It’s your mother. You love her.”

He nodded, swallowed. Then he turned and slammed his fist into the door. It splintered.

Ella jerked back, her heart banging.

“You still don’t trust me,” Finn said. Calm, quiet. As if he hadn’t just broken the door. Blood began to drip from his hand, spilling from his busted knuckles.

“You are aelfr,” Ella whispered, shame rising through the fear. Hadn’t she decided she trusted him? “I just want—”

“It wasn’t her,” Finn said, turning to her. His eyes glistened. “The woman in the Gate only looked like her. My mother is dead.”

THE END of EPISODE THREE

The Dream

Episode 4

What flies there? What fares there? What glides in the air?

A dream stirs, a memory leaps.

The sun grows dark, the earth shudders, the bright stars fade;

The Veil parts and the Gates fall open.

Before you cross, ready your shield
and hone your blades for killing.

Your enemies await.

Chapter One

Switch

Inside the fluffy curtain of falling snow, quadruped forms coalesced. Shrugging off the bulky jacket to free her arms, Ella stepped back and took aim.

The police were herding passersby off the street when the wolves poured in from every side — white animals with pearly scales, wicked beaks and sharp claws. They fell on the screaming people, tearing them apart even as she took shot after shot.

In the snowfall, the damn wolves were practically invisible. Ella holstered her gun and reached for her knives, ready to take them on. She breathed in, breathed out.

Come on.

Across the street, Finn straddled a dying wolf, his Bowie knife stuck into its neck, his bare arms streaked with crimson. God, wasn’t he ever cold?

“Behind you!” he shouted.

The icy wind stung her cheeks as she whirled, her blades swishing, slicing into the wolf that had been creeping up on her. Blood sprayed, half-blinding her. She stabbed again and again, and only when the wolf dropped, legs jerking, did she wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Finn was staring at her, worry etched in the lines of his face. But when she nodded, he turned away.

Since the kiss three days back, since she’d pushed him away, he’d gone back to being distant. Goddammit, she needed to feel Finn’s arms around her again.

But had no idea how to fix this.

A growl from the left had her spinning. Getting killed before getting up the nerve to kiss Finn once more would suck. He tasted like dark chocolate, she thought as she ran her blade through a wolf’s flank, then whirled to stab another in the side of the neck, jumping back as blood sprayed. His skin had felt like satin against her fingertips, under her palms, against her lips. Viciously she slashed at another wolf as it launched itself at her. Cutting upward, she sliced it open and threw her knife at the one crossing the street, hitting it between the eyes.

She bent over, panting. Damn. This — the violence, the blood — wasn’t helping her forget how good Finn had felt in her arms.

And the wolves kept pouring into the street. Were the Gates stabilizing again? Had more than one opened at once? Looking up, she saw fear register on Finn’s face for a fleeting moment, then his jaw clenched and he rose, lifting his dripping knives, ready to take the whole pack. Blades held out at the sides, she raced across the street to stand by his side. He didn’t acknowledge her presence, only lifted his chin and prepared to fight, legs apart, knees bent, knives at the ready.

What she hadn’t expected was the sound of helicopters and a voice over a loudspeaker, calling, “We will open fire in twenty seconds. Take cover. I repeat.”

The military.

Ella grabbed Finn’s arm and dragged him toward the nearest building. He jerked free and she stumbled, falling against a graffiti-covered wall. Her breath knocked out, she slid down wheezing.

Images flashed in her mind — a fanged mouth, the air catching fire, a sky darkening — then pain hit, a sizzle of fire all over her body, making her teeth grind. Distantly she knew it was a memory — and not hers.

“Ella!” Finn lifted her back to her feet, a frown darkening his face. “You all right?”

Dazed, she let him pull her under cover, inside an entrance, and they huddled next to a potted plant. Christ. What had that been?

Finn held his gun pointing up, cocked and ready. His gaze flicked to her, worried, then slid away. “Sorry.”

“You mean, for throwing me against that wall like a bag of trash?” Those images... “I was only trying to get you to safety, you know.”

He winced slightly, stared out into the street.

Back to a no-touch, no-talk Finn. Dammit. Her fault. Before the kiss, he’d begun to open up, and now... Now she wanted that back.

Had he opened up to the woman he’d mentioned, a certain Norma Jones? He said they used to talk.

Are you jealous, Ella?

The rat-tat-tat of bullets hitting the pavement and the street jarred her thoughts. The noise rose to a deafening crescendo. The walls and ground shook. No, she wasn’t going to cling to Finn, dammit. Instead, she gripped her gun until her knuckles ached, waiting for the massacre to end.

***

“What are we missing?” Dave muttered, pacing the length of his tiny office. “If John Grey is here, opening portals from here...” He sucked a long breath and stopped, fists at his sides, looking down at his desk. “How do we find him?”

Ella shrugged. Surreptitiously she edged closer to Dave’s desk to check the papers he had lying around. She didn’t think they’d be addressed to Dave as ‘Dear Guardian,’ but she didn’t know where else to look for clues. “All Sarah said was that John Grey’s here. Nothing more.”

Sarah, her dead partner’s girlfriend, an oracle, who could hear the Shades. Not anymore, though.

Right on cue, Dave asked, “And are the Shades still silent?”

Ella nodded. Not that she’d talked to Sarah again, but Mike, her neighbor, best friend and oracle rolled into one, had promised to let her know if he heard anything at all from beyond the Veil.

Although... he seemed so wrapped up in Scott these days maybe he’d forgotten to mention it, and his happiness made the bittersweet pain in her chest all the sharper.

She wanted Finn to hold her that way, to look at her that way. Only Finn avoided looking at her these days. He even left her alone with Dave and went to get weapons from Jeff’s armory. Without her even asking him to.

Damn.

“What use is the army,” Dave was saying, “when we can’t find a way to stop the Gates from opening? For all we know, John Grey can open a Gate so vast, half of Aelfheim can cross over.”

“There must be constraints,” she muttered absently, trying to look into Dave’s ever-present mug without turning her head. Was the brown sludge in it tea or something else?

“Meaning?”

Ella sighed and wandered to the shelves by the door, which were filled with folders of cases. What she needed was a sample of Dave’s DNA. The only problem was, his office was spotless. No fallen hairs, no blood stains. And he kept watching her, reducing her chances of happening upon something she could use.

“Surely Johnny-boy can’t be all-powerful,” she said. Or else the elves wouldn’t have been so concerned about keeping him safe. “If he was able to open such a huge Gate, we’d have been an elven province for centuries now.”

“Unless things have changed,” Dave growled. “Your partner says the elves have technology now. What if John Grey gained in strength, too?”

A horrifying thought. “There must be a way to stop him.”

“You sound so convinced. Why is he on the loose, then, opening Gates?”

Ella glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Nope. No spirals, no metal peeking through his skin. No seam bisecting him from head to toe.

Useless. Maybe she was mad thinking he was a Guardian. Maybe there was another explanation for his appearance in her mother’s old photo. It was possible it wasn’t him but a relative of his.

“If he’s a Dark elf,” she said, “the Dark elves must be protecting him.”

“But what if he’s not? Nine worlds hang on the tree Yggdrasil, so say the legends. If he opens Gates, he could’ve crossed from anywhere.”

Crap. “None of the books you’ve read say what he is?”

Dave gave his desk a glare Finn would have approved of. “Beware of John Grey. That’s all we got, all the Grarsaga says. Nothing about his origins.”

The Grarsaga. Dave had read it. Ella’s blood froze. “What else does the Grarsaga say?”

“Nothing much.” Dave shrugged, still glaring. He scratched the stubble on his chin. “It records John Grey’s wedding with a local king’s daughter. Lots of singing and quaffing ale, and the elves stating that John Grey didn’t belong to their race.”

Ella struggled to marshal her thoughts. “Pity.” She cleared her throat and attempted to relax her hands that had curled into fists. “What a mess. So what’s new? Any more white animals reported?”

“No. Not since the army finished off the last wolves yesterday. And it’s possible they’d crossed earlier, together with those you and Finn killed in Friedrich Avenue the day before.” He threw his hands in the air. “I don’t see a pattern. If John Grey can open the Gates, why doesn’t he keep them open for the elves to cross? Why is it only animals crossing over? What the hell is he doing?”

The million dollar question.

“Playing with us?” Ella suggested, although it didn’t feel like it. She had to agree with Dave. They were missing some vital clue but she was damned if she knew what it was.

“I’ll kill him when I get my hands on him.” Dave hummed like a broken engine.

Which made her narrow her eyes. Was he? A broken robot, gone rogue? Her head pounding, she slid into a chair and closed her eyes. What she needed was a full night’s sleep, without nightmares.

Too much to ask for these days.

“Ella,” Dave said quietly, “have you told me everything?”

That snapped her eyes open. “What?”

“Those notes about your childhood.” Dave sat at his desk, his face tired. “Are there things you’re hiding from me, abilities you’re not telling me about?”

Ella hid a wince. “I swear I’m not working against humankind.”

“And what about Finn?”

Anger flared. “He saved your life the other day when the Shades attacked the HQ.” She leaned forward, remembering Finn throwing himself in front of Dave, slashing at the trolls and goblins. “Would you have done the same for him?”

Dave sat, staring at her as if he was trying to read her face. She stared back, hoping only sincerity and righteous anger showed in her eyes. She did believe Finn was on their side. And, in his way, he was more human than most people she’d met over the years.

“That’s not what I’m asking,” Dave said.

“Then what are you asking? He’s on our side. How many times does he have to save my life, and yours, to make you believe it?”

Dave scowled. He rubbed a hand over his face. “How come he’s not hiding behind your skirts anymore?”

Fuck you, Dave. “He went to get weapons. The Shades may be silent but they aren’t idle. They attack anywhere, at any time. Better be prepared.”

***

Simon’s apartment was silent as a grave and wasn’t that an apt comparison? Ella shivered and huddled into her jacket. It was the second time she’d broken in since Simon’s death. Once she’d come looking for clues, hoping to find him. Now she knew where he was — in the mortuary until the ground thawed for the funeral — and what she was looking for was information about her past, Simon’s past, Dave’s nature and possibly, hopefully, John Grey.

Odd that the apartment hadn’t been cleared yet but she was grateful for it as she stood in the living room alone. She’d asked Finn to wait in the car, and for a single moment, hurt had flashed through his eyes, quickly hidden, replaced with his usual glare. It was obvious he believed she didn’t trust him at all, and she wanted to shake him and tell him she did.

But couldn’t. Couldn’t explain that she’d only asked him to stay behind because she needed to be alone in Simon’s apartment to hear her own thoughts, to recall things and make connections she couldn’t make with Finn there, distracting her.

Though even now, alone in the apartment, she couldn’t take him out of her thoughts. How pathetic was that?

She moved to the kitchen, every memento of Simon a splinter in her heart. She wasn’t angry with him anymore; the doubts Dave had planted in her mind about her ex-partner were mostly gone. Simon had most assuredly been human, whereas Dave...

Shaking her head, she opened a cupboard and stared at the neat lines of cups and glasses. She didn’t know what she hoped to find. A lost page, a note left somewhere, a file with the answers to all her questions.

Dream on.

Sighing softly, she ran a finger over the dust on the shelves and the table. Ghost memories of herself and Simon drinking red wine and talking until late at night teased her, imprinted on the air of the room.

“Simon...” She hesitated. She didn’t believe in ghosts, but weren’t the Shades something similar? “If you can hear me...” Dammit, desperation sucked. “I need your help, all right? I need to find who the hell John Grey is, and Dave... And Dave, too.”

Only the wind whistled through a crack in the window. Feeling stupid, she entered Simon’s bedroom and sat on his bed. Why should she expect to find anything at all? The Bureau had surely gone through the apartment with a fine comb many times over.

Then again, she’d found the code to the book, the Grarsaga, hadn’t she? Although Dave had apparently read the book and found nothing interesting in it.

Hell.

If Simon had hidden something for her eyes only, where would he hide it? Had he known he’d die that day? Had he been afraid of something like that?

The headache returned, the blood pounding in her temples like a drum. She massaged her scalp. What was important to the two of them that Dave wouldn’t have known about?

Getting up, she went to the shelves covering one side of the bedroom, filled with mementos and books. She’d never known anyone who owned so many books apart from libraries. She’d bet Dave had gone through every one of them. She caressed a plastic toy knight Simon had brought from one of his trips to Europe. Germany, she remembered. From some castle or other. Next to it stood a bust of Aristotle, carved from white stone. Marble. And a silly little wooden car, green, with an S she’d drawn on it, a gift for him when he’d gotten his last car. Her heart beat painfully fast. She lifted it, turned it over, placed it back.

Yeah. No secret messages there.

Although she felt like an idiot, she nevertheless picked up the next item she had given Simon — a candle in the shape of a cake slice. He’d often joked he might eat it one day if he was hungry enough. It was dusty and cold, and she left it back where she’d found it. The next item was a lighter, covered in embossed leather in the shape of a chameleon. She’d found it in an open-air market with Simon, and she’d bought it for him because he’d seemed to like it. He’d laughed, said he’d start smoking to use her present, and she’d threatened to replace it with a real chameleon if he ever did. He detested chameleons, he’d admitted to her later, because they could hide and watch you and you wouldn’t even know they were there, invisible in their camouflage.

She turned the leather case in her hand, and tugged at the lighter. It slid out. Something white inside the tube caught her eye, and she pulled it free. A piece of paper.

With trembling fingers she unfolded it. And stared at the strange name written smack in the middle of it.

A rustle from the doorway caught her attention.

“Don’t move,” said an icy female voice. Slender hands holding a handgun, the grip steady and sure, a tube skirt, long legs and high heels. Short dark hair and green eyes, cold with fury.

“Sarah?” Ella blinked. “What are you doing?”

“Stopping you from making this into a bigger mess,” Sarah said. “What’s on that piece of paper?”

“Nothing important.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. Drop it to the floor.”

Ella dropped the paper. “What do you want?”

“Remove your gun and your knives and place them on the floor.”

Cursing inside, Ella did as told, putting her gun and two knives on the floor and stepping away. “Now what? I thought we were on the same side.”

“So did I,” Sarah said. “Do you deny you’re working for John Grey?”

“Are you serious?” Ella pushed through gritted teeth. “Of course I deny it.”

Sarah’s full lips pulled back in a sneer. “Before the Shades fell silent, they mentioned David Holborn, your boss, together with John Grey. I bet they’re one and the same.”

Oh shit. “Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind,” Ella muttered. “But I have yet to catch him opening a Gate.”

“So you say.” Sarah stepped forward, gun never leaving the target, and picked up the paper. “You seem close.”

“Close?” Ella shook her head. “I work for the Paranormal Bureau and he’s my boss. How close that makes us, I don’t know.”

“You seem to be friends.”

“Not really, but I see you’ve got it all figured out.”

“Working on the details. I’ll make...” Sarah glanced down at the paper and frowned. “Who’s this supposed to be?”

“You tell me,” Ella muttered.

“You sneaked into Simon’s apartment to get this piece of paper and now you want me to believe you don’t know?” She snorted. “What’s the connection to John Grey?”

“I don’t know who the hell John Grey is,” Ella said. “Why do you care anyway?”

“None of your business—” Sarah’s eyes widened and she stepped forward from the doorway into the room.

What the hell? Ella frowned when Sarah clicked the safety on her gun and put it down on the floor carefully before straightening again.

Then Finn appeared behind her, filling the doorframe, his gun held in both hands. He seemed to glow in the dimness. “Back off,” he said, his voice soft but sharp.

“Good timing,” Ella whispered and went to retrieve her weapons, sighing in satisfaction at the familiar weight of the knives at her belt. Holding her gun loosely in one hand, she approached Sarah who was sending them wary looks, her hands held up.

“Now let’s start again,” Ella said and snatched the piece of paper from Sarah’s grip. “As I said, I don’t know who John Grey is and I’m most definitely not working for the elves, so why don’t you tell us who you’re working for?”

Finn sighted down his gun, for all the world as if he was about to shoot. Ella really hoped he wasn’t having a flashback.

The same doubt seemed to cross Sarah’s face, and a shiver went through her. “Wait,” she said.

Finn’s mouth tightened and he nodded. Ah good, he was all there.

Ella cleared her throat. “Well?”

“Why should I tell you anything?” Sarah said, swallowing, her gaze darting from Finn to her. “I know what the Shades said.”

“The Shades say many obscure things,” Ella muttered, checking her gun, more for show than anything. “Dave may or may not be John Grey, but I swear to you Finn and I have been doing all we can to stop this invasion.”

Sarah’s mouth thinned. “And I’m supposed to take your word, just like that?”

“You’re the one who put a gun in my face.” Ella lifted her chin. “What stops me from arresting you for assault?”

“You broke into Simon’s apartment.”

“I’m police.”

“And I’m his girlfriend.”

Silence fell, heavy with distrust.

“I think it’s time you convinced me to trust you,” Ella said, keeping her voice even. “You said you don’t want the Gates to open; neither do we. Who sent you?”

Sarah bit her lip, glaring. Then her shoulders slumped. “I belong to an organization for the protection—”

“—of the Gates.” Ella sighed. “A secret organization that has existed for centuries, ever since the elves last crossed over in the Middle Ages? Has the spiral as its symbol?”

“How do you...?” Sarah blinked.

Anger burned in Ella’s chest. She raised her gun, making the other woman flinch. “Do you think I’m stupid? You say you don’t trust Dave and you’ve been collaborating with him all this time?”

“What?” Sarah inched back a step. “Dave told you he’s a member of the organization?”

Ella narrowed her eyes. “Are you saying he’s not?”

“I’m saying I had no idea. I don’t know all the members. We’re a—”

“—secret organization. Right.” Scrubbing a hand over her face, Ella regarded Simon’s girlfriend. No wonder she knew how to use a gun. Pieces of the puzzle fell into place. “Did Simon know about this?” She stabbed a finger at her. “Is this whole business the reason you were with him? Were you using him to get information?”

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?”

“Yeah, isn’t it nice?” Mike winked and raised his glass. “To our excellent chef.”

Finn took a sip from his wine. His sharp cheekbones were flushed, whether from the alcohol or the praise, it was hard to tell. He slid his brilliant blue eyes toward her, and she looked hastily away. She put down her fork, appetite suddenly gone.

“Something the matter? Need more salt?” Scott asked.

“It’s not that.” She itched to touch Finn, talk to him, explain how she felt, but couldn’t. Because being together would be a royally bad idea. Finn had to understand that. So should she lie and say she didn’t love him? Or tell him the truth?

Scott raised a brow. “Should we leave you?”

Finn said nothing, mouth tight, and Ella sat back, her heart thumping. She shook her head.

“We can take dessert to go,” Mike added helpfully. “If you guys need to talk. But since it’s your birthday and all...”

Birthday? Ella opened her mouth and then shut it again. “It’s today?”

“Told ya she’d forget all about it.” Mike grinned.

Ella looked from him to Scott. “So this is what the dinner was all about?”

“I told Finn. He offered to cook.” Mike shrugged.

Speechless, she turned to Finn. It was touching and made her feel even more of a creep for letting him think she didn’t trust him. “Thank you.”

She tried to catch his eye, to get a glimpse into his head, but he was staring right ahead at the wall with a frown on his face. Awkward.

“Hey,” Mike said, “you dropped something. A piece of paper.”

She scooped it up and unfolded it. “Found it in Simon’s apartment.” She kept glancing at Finn, but the only change in his expression was a narrowing of his eyes. “Does the name Bran Hoodvild ring any bells?”

“You’re kidding me.” Mike took the proffered paper and passed it on to Scott. “Is it even a real name?”

“Sounds kind of Scandinavian.” Scott scratched the back of his neck. “Have you googled it?”

Ella shook her head. “Didn’t get the chance.”

“I’ll do it for you,” Mike said. “Tomorrow, during my lunch break.”

“Thanks, guys,” Ella muttered. “I doubt it’s anyone important, but checking it out will put my mind at ease.”

“Hey, dude.” Scott waved a hand in front of Finn’s face. “Are you with us?”

Finn didn’t react, didn’t even flinch, and worry knotted Ella’s stomach. She reached out for him. “Finn?”

His chair screeched and he stood, drawing his Bowie knives. “Get down.”

And the room exploded into movement and flashes.

Shades.

Mouth gaping, Mike tilted backward in his chair as a tusked goblin jumped on the table, scattering the half-empty dishes. Its clawed hands reached for Ella, but she drew her knives and slashed its leathery arm, severing it at the wrist. The iron touch sent the creature into a paroxysm, limbs thrashing, until it vanished in a puff of smoke.

Then they were swarming all over them, spindle-legged goblins with green skin and protruding fangs, wicked claws that cut through wood and plastic.

“Mike!” Ella kicked a goblin in the shin and stabbed at its midsection, then ducked under the fist of another and crouched next to him. He was still on his back where he’d fallen, his face white as paper. “Sit up,” she hissed and pushed one of her iron knives into his hand. “Use this.”

Where was Scott? Helping Mike to his feet, she found herself airborne, lifted in gnarled hands, sharp nails slicing her skin. She kicked and twisted, her knife swishing in small arches, and cut deeply into the goblin’s arm. It shrieked and shook her back and forth before it fizzled out, letting her drop.

She rolled, only barely avoiding the claws of another goblin. Where was Finn? She hadn’t heard his voice since the attack began. Her chest too tight to breathe, she shot to her feet and spun around. “Finn!”

There was a mass of heaving bodies on the other side of the table, mottled hides and patterned limbs rising and falling like a sea. What the hell?

“Help Scott!” Mike cried from behind and she wished she had her damn gun on her. A huge goblin had Scott in a solid grip around the neck and held him dangling in the air. Scott’s face was turning dark purple.

“I thought trolls were the ones who liked this sort of thing,” Ella grumbled as she sprinted across the room, letting one of her knives fly. It hit the goblin in the side and the creature wavered as it retreated, letting a barely conscious Scott fall at Mike’s feet.

“Oh Jesus,” Mike muttered, his knees hitting the floor. “He’s alive.”

“Good,” Ella breathed. “Protect him.”

Mike nodded, and she turned her attention back to the mass of bodies. They’d moved closer to the far wall, where the darkness bent and distorted in ever changing patterns.

And Finn?

Something pale among the bodies caught her eye. Christ, they had him! And the Veil was parting, ready to take them all away, somewhere she couldn’t find him again.

With a savage cry, she threw herself at the goblins, slashing with her knife and smashing her fist into armored skin, kicking and shoving between them to reach Finn. Blood dripped from her hand, slicking the grip on the blade, but she just held it tighter and stabbed a goblin in the arm. They didn’t seem to notice her, all their focus on getting Finn into the Grey.

Her pulse drumming in her ears, Ella rammed a goblin in the face with the hilt of her knife, then twisted and cut into another’s neck, ichor fountaining, drenching her.

“Finn!” She ducked under a goblin’s arm and stabbed backward, hearing the fizzle behind her. “Answer me!” Her voice was rising. Panic, she thought dimly. Fear constricting her throat, cutting off her breath. Why wasn’t he answering?

Another swipe of her knife, another stab and slash, and finally there he was, hanging limp between two goblins, their feet raised to enter the writhing mist of the Veil.

“No!” She jumped on the back of one of them and stabbed her knife into its thick neck, then slid down and shoved the blade into the other one. They screeched and wavered, fading to nothing.

Finn’s limp body thumped to the floor.

The breath went out of her and she dropped to her knees by his side. The quiet unrolled like a mist, stuffing her ears. Nothing moved. She’d felled a whole platoon of Shades, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered — because Finn wasn’t breathing.

Something like a sob left her throat, leaving it raw and aching. She gulped in more air and sat up. Get yourself together, Ella. She’d taken first aid courses at work. You know what to do.

His pulse jumped under her fingertips, under the warm skin of his throat. His heart beat, so she’d perform rescue breathing.

Easy.

Swallowing hard, throat dry as a desert, she bent over him and covered his lips with her mouth. This was wrong. Finn should be kissing her back, Finn should be...

She breathed into him, checked if his chest rose. Focus. Breathed again, watched his lungs fill and empty. She checked his pulse. Steady. Strong. Come on, Finn. She breathed into him again, and again. Come on! “You promised,” she wheezed. “No dying.”

She blew more air between his lips. “You promised. Please.” Her heart banged against her ribs. Her hands shook. “Finn, wake up!”

Finn gasped, his back arching. He coughed, then curled on his side, panting, and Ella bent her head, struggling with stupid tears. Oh god.

She drew back, giving him space. Pools of ichor spread around them. Finn was covered in the stuff, and she wasn’t much better.

Blindly he reached for her hand, and she let him take it, squeezed his strong fingers in hers reassuringly. “You’re okay,” she said, her voice close to breaking. “You’re all right.”

His eyes opened and focused on her. He touched two fingers to his chest. Was that his way of saying thank you?

“Finn...” So much she wanted to say, but the words caught in her throat. This is why you can’t be with him, she thought. Because the other side is pulling him and he’ll either return to his world, or die.

Slowly she withdrew her hand and turned away.

Chapter Three

Falling

Sarah wore a black skirt with tassels on the hem. They flounced as she moved around the living room. “So the Shades just come and go as they please?” She checked under the sofa cushions, as if expecting to find an answer to the tearing of the Veil right there, in Ella’s apartment. “Despite all the charms I saw on the doors and windows and every single free surface?”

“That was a rhetorical question, right?” Ella had been scrubbing the ichor and blood off the floor since early morning. What a birthday. Better if she never celebrated it again, ever.

Add to that the fact she’d barely slept a wink all night, Finn’s still face flashing in front of her eyes like a broken movie. Then she’d panic and get up, unable to breathe, until she convinced herself he was fine.

Scott was in hospital. His windpipe had almost been crushed and he had a concussion which the doctors were monitoring. Not everyone withstood being choked to death and smashed into walls repeatedly like Finn.

Which made her wonder how hard Finn had been hit to stop breathing.

She shuddered, the memory overlaying her thoughts and darkening her vision. Yeah, that was exactly why she couldn’t be with him.

“I’d sleep with my gun under my pillow if I were you,” Sarah said. “On an iron bed. With iron chairs all around. Something like that.”

Not such a bad idea.

“Where’s Finn?” Sarah checked under the coffee table.

Would she stop doing that?

A throat being cleared had them both turning to the kitchen door. Finn stood there, arms folded over his chest, lounging against the doorframe. Quiet like a cat, that man. Elf. Whatever.

Her heart thumped so loudly it covered all other sound. He was a little pallid, and worry made her want to walk over and check him, maybe bully him into bed, feed him soup and tea.

Goddammit, stop it. She forced herself to look away.

“I wish I could hear what the Shades talk about, for clues on how they got in.” Sarah sank on the couch, crossing her legs. She wore knee length boots, high-heeled of course, and a red coat. “But I can’t complain. I haven’t been alone in my head in a long time. The silence is... refreshing. Lets me think more clearly.”

Ella wished she could say the same for herself. She rose and went to wash her hands in the bathroom. When she returned, she found Sarah smoking a slim cigarette. The scent of fresh tobacco hung in the air, aromatic. It reminded Ella of her father and of calm Sunday afternoons in the garden.

Rattled, she sat across from the other woman, stealing glances at Finn who hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway.

“Let me see the paper you got from Simon’s place again,” Sarah said. No-nonsense, right to the point. “It was a strange name.”

“Only if you tell us what you know about John Grey and the Gates,” Ella countered, holding up the piece of paper between index and middle finger, dangling it like a carrot. A glance showed her Finn’s expression caught between a dark glare and amusement.

“If I knew anything worth knowing, I’d be out there trying to stop the invasion from happening,” Sarah muttered. “We both suspect Dave of working for the enemy, one way or another. Give me what you’ve got and I’ll work on it.”

Ella sighed. That woman sounded so sure of herself. She pushed the piece of paper across the coffee table. “Let’s hear your ideas.”

Sarah flipped the paper over and over between nimble fingers. Her nails were painted crimson. “Bran Hoodvild. This looks like...” She frowned. “Have you got a pen?”

Ella threw her one. “What does it look like?”

Sarah sucked her bottom lip between white teeth. When she released it, they were smeared in red. “Like an anagram. And I think I know which name it fits.” She smirked. “Working for a super secret organization means I’ve got some practice with this sort of stuff.”

An anagram. “You’re not saying...” Ella sat forward in her seat. From the corner of her eye, she saw Finn take a step into the room. “An anagram for John Grey?”

“Nope.” Sarah scribbled something below the name and placed the paper on the table. “There. I knew it.”

David Holborn. Dave. Shit. Ella frowned. “Simon had been investigating Dave?”

“And you’re the only person Simon wanted to share it with.” There was only the tiniest trace of bitterness in Sarah’s voice. “In any case, I was right. David is John Grey.”

“I’m not sure.” Ella took a deep breath, and of course Finn’s sweet spice filled her senses. “We suspect Dave of being a Guardian, a half-mechanical being created by the Dark elves to protect the Gates, gone rogue.”

Sarah whistled. “And here I thought I’d shocked you by suggesting he’s John Grey. What makes you think he’s a Guardian?”

“He was in a photo with me as a baby.”

“Maybe he ages well.”

“He doesn’t eat or sleep.”

“Are you sure?”

Ella sighed. Was she? “Bear with me. If Guardians are half-machines, it does sound like they don’t die, doesn’t it?” She looked to Finn for confirmation, and he shrugged.

“Makes sense to me,” Sarah said. “The Dark elves would want to leave them on a world to guard the Gates after they closed them, if they couldn’t send replacements.”

“Right. Now...” Ella rubbed her nose. “If a person is around for too long, someone might get suspicious, right? They would have to change their name every so often. What if the anagram is one of the names Dave used in the past?”

Sarah snorted. “But why would he keep the same letters?”

Robots. Machines. Letters. “Some sort of code? Maybe they need to keep the letters so their masters can find them when and if they return?”

Sarah frowned. “A little far-fetched, isn’t it?”

“You think? More than everything else we’ve encountered?” Ella shook her head, her ponytail whipping her neck. “How else do you explain the fact that Simon hid for me a piece of paper with a name that turns out to be an anagram of David Holborn?”

Sarah toyed with the tassels of her skirt and chewed on a ruby-painted lip. Ella held her breath.

The silence stretched. She glanced at Finn, caught him staring at her. He looked away with a scowl.

“Okay, I’ll play,” Sarah said.

Ella slumped back in her seat. “Good.”

“If you’re right and he’s been here for a while, and if this is a name he’s used, I’ll find out what I can about him,” Sarah said. Her green eyes gleamed under her dark fringe. “You can count on me.”

“Glad to be on the same side,” Ella muttered. Truth be told, with the Shades closing around them, and Mike and Scott out for the count, it felt good to have one more ally.

***

Trees laden with snow lined the lake shore — trees unlike any Ella had ever seen. With their branches twisted and woven together, the trees rose like solid cones dusted with white toward the grey sky. The lake was still — too still. Frozen. A gust of wind sent snow swirling over its surface.

A howl sounded from the hills. Then another, from much closer.

Ella turned and started to run. Her leather boots sank in the snow that came up to her knees, slowing her. Her heart thumped an irregular beat inside her chest and her mouth was dry with fear. The weapons she carried hampered her progress — the long knives hanging from her belt, the bow and the quiver full of arrows slung over her shoulders.

A tall figure of a man stood on a rising of the land, beckoning urgently, and she knew she had to reach him, but her legs felt unaccountably short and stabs of pain went through her knee with every struggling step.

A growl sounded behind her, and she yelped, falling into the snow. A scream built up in her throat as something stepped closer and a stench of fur and blood washed over her. Pain shot down her chest, her stomach.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came. She couldn’t breathe. Turning, she tried to get up but her body was frozen. She struggled against the numbness.

And fell.

She cried out, her jaw finally unlocked, as her back hit the hard ground, jarring every bone in her body. Scrambling backward, she tried to see around but it was dark and she thought she still smelled the wolf, acrid and coppery sweet. Her chest ached dully, a ghost of pain. She kept moving — where were her weapons, her knives? — until she hit a solid surface and pressed her back to it.

She was unarmed and alone and—

A creak sounded. Light flooded the dark, blinding her. She raised a hand to shield her eyes.

“Ella?” said a familiar male voice and a broad-shouldered silhouette filled the doorway, blocking the source of light. Backlit, his hair formed a silver halo around his head.

Finn. She wanted to say his name but her throat hurt as if she’d been screaming and... it didn’t make sense. She looked around. Faintly illuminated, her room appeared around her — her bed, her bedside table, the chair with her clothes thrown haphazardly over it. Her heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Just a dream.

Finn stepped into the room, his face in shadow. “Are you okay?”

She was huddled in the corner, trembling, cowering like an animal. Jesus. She placed her hands on the wall behind her and pushed to her feet.

Her knee buckled and she slid back down.

Finn snarled something and strode over to her, knelt by her side. He caught her hands in his. “What happened?”

“Nightmare,” she rasped.

“Your leg?”

“An old fracture.” Picked the time to act up, too.

He lifted her easily to her feet, wrapped an arm around her and held her for a moment against his cotton-clad chest — so warm, his heartbeat thumping through her, soothing — and led her to the bed. She sat, trying to gather her wits while he drew away.

“Finn?” she whispered. She wanted to hold him close, but didn’t dare move.

“Daudr,” he breathed, or something like it.

She didn’t know the word. “Why do you keep speaking in old Norse?” She clenched her hands not to reach for him. “Why not Elvish?”

He glanced at her, an undecipherable look, quickly averted. His shoulders stiffened more, until he was hunched over. “That’s the Boreals’ first language. In case we returned to this world.”

Oh.

Shit. “I woke you up,” she whispered. “Sorry.”

“I wasn’t asleep.” He turned away, staring at the light spilling through the open door.

“You’re having nightmares, aren’t you?”

He didn’t answer, which was answer enough.

“I dreamed of wolves,” Ella whispered. “And a frozen lake. Someone was waiting for me but I couldn’t reach him, and the wolves were on me.” She shivered at the memory. So real.

Finn made a small sound, like a protest. “Neith,” he muttered.

Whatever that meant. She really should refresh her knowledge of the language. “Go back to sleep,” she said. Outside the shutters, it was still night. “I’ll be fine.”

He shook his head. “I’ll be training.” And turning, he left the room.

Training. How did he find the energy? Though Ella didn’t think she could go back to sleep, either. Maybe having a tea, watching Finn doing his exercises and getting all hot and sweaty in the living room would chase the lingering chill from her bones and mind.

With tired motions, she got up and flicked on the light. A cold draft curled in the room and she grabbed a sweater to pull over her pajamas. She padded to the window, making sure it was closed and locked. Outside, ancient drainage pipes ran up and down the side of the building like a bulging vein.

With a shiver she drew back. Heights gave her the creeps.

She wandered over to the small kitchen and pulled her favorite mug — it had a kitten on it — from the cupboard. She missed her cat. Making a mental note to check on Miss Meow now that Mike and Scott were at the hospital, she plugged in the boiler.

It wasn’t until she was pouring the hot water over the teabag that she remembered what the word Finn had spoken meant.

Neith. She stilled, mug in hand. It was the name of the hunter who’d taken him in after his parents had thrown him off the cliff as a child.

Why had Finn said it?

***

“How’s Scott?” Holding the phone in one hand, she used the other to drag an iron stool next to her bed. She stepped back to give the room a critical look. The salesman had sworn the stool was pure iron. She’d convinced Finn to place iron pots and pokers around his bed, and she planned to go shopping for an iron bed soon.

“He’s fine,” Mike said, sounding tired over the line. “They’re keeping him tonight, though, and I’m staying with him.”

Probably safer for both of them, Ella thought but didn’t say it. Mike had to have realized by now her fears were true. The Shades were after Finn and anyone who stood in their way could get killed.

“Let me know if you need anything,” she muttered, surveying her iron-filled room. “And keep the gun with you, yes? Just in case.”

“Yes, Mom,” Mike said, a smile in his voice.

Ella hung up and wiped her sweaty and filthy face on her arm. Now a shower, and life would surely look brighter.

A crash from the other bedroom made her jump. Dammit. Drawing her gun, she stalked down the corridor and looked into Finn’s room.

Finn sat on the bed, an embarrassed flush in his cheeks. He was clasping his bad knee.

Ella holstered her gun, breathing a sigh of relief. “What happened?”

He glared at his knee, then at the pots scattered around his bed.

“Knee buckled? And you tripped over the pots.” Ella coughed to hide a grin.

Finn nodded. He looked kinda terrible, now she took a good look at him, dark circles under his eyes and his face thin and pale. He’d started to gain some weight, finally, when they’d moved in together, and now he was losing it again, fast.

The mattress springs squeaked as she sat next to him. “You’re not sleeping well,” she said. “You look like hell.”

No reaction.

“Bad dreams?”

Finn stiffened, his eyes going flinty.

“You can tell me about them.” The bed looked soft. She could just lie down and sleep for years. “I’ve heard it helps.”

Finn cocked a brow. “Does it help you?”

Touché. “Um, maybe?” She smiled down at her hands. “I told you what my dream was about this morning. What was yours about?”

If anything, Finn seemed to close off even more.

“Can’t be that bad, can it?” she asked and bit her lip. What did she know about bad? Finn had some truly horrific memories to draw upon. She thought of his words after the kiss, the despair in his eyes. “Does it have to do with your mother’s death?”

“What?” He looked away, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “No.”

“How did she die?”

His hands fisted on his black-clad thighs. “Of sorrow. Or so I was told.”

She gripped her hands together, not to reach up and caress his face. “I’m sorry.” She studied his profile against the grey light from the window, listened to the sound of his controlled breathing — still too fast, too harsh.

She made as if to get up. “I’m sorry. Forget it.”

Finn caught her wrist. She sat back down, blinking at him.

“I saw a frozen lake,” Finn said. She somehow knew what his next words would be, but she still jerked when he spoke. “Wolves were after me. I fell in the snow.”

Oh god. This couldn’t be happening. Maybe she was having another nightmare. “Finn...”

“Neith... Neith was waiting for me ahead. He saw what happened. He shot the wolf.”

His arm was curled around his middle. She recalled a pain in her chest, from her heart to her stomach—

“That’s not a dream,” she breathed. “It’s your memory. That wolf carved you open, didn’t it?” That long scar on his chest.

And it wasn’t the first time she’d seen that cold world and its monsters.

If possible, Finn went paler. He rubbed his chest, his breathing coming in gasps, and nodded. “Neith always said if you can’t go on, then hide. I didn’t listen.”

“Finn...” She wanted to pull him into her arms, but settled for placing a hand on his arm and squeezing. “Why am I seeing your dreams?”

***

A coincidence, he says. Furious, Ella slammed the cupboard closed, then regretted it and hoped she hadn’t woken up Finn. He’d claimed he wanted to sleep. Damn, but he had looked exhausted. As if admitting what his dream had been about was more than he could handle.

She leaned against the kitchen counter and rubbed her eyes. She believed he was tired alright — but their shared dreams being a coincidence? No way.

Damn, her brain wouldn’t function after the night she’d had. Worst night ever. On a whim, she chose the instant coffee over her usual tea and tipped a heaped spoonful into her cup. She poured water over it, stirred and sipped.

God. Whoa. Bitter as sin. Making a face, she gulped some of it down. If this didn’t wake her up, nothing would.

So much to do. They needed new dishes. She had to go shopping. After the Shade attack, they had five dishes left, tops, and two glasses. Not to mention only one chair and no table.

Woo, this stuff was strong. Her head buzzed. When her phone rang, she jumped two feet off the floor, and the coffee spilled over her fingers, burning them.

She dropped the mug which shattered.

Jesus. New mugs needed. Down to three now.

Perfect.

“What do you want?” she barked into the phone. Damn, coffee wasn’t for her. “I mean, who is it?”

“Good morning to you, too,” Sarah said cheerily from the other end. “Reporting in with my research about the name you gave me.”

Oh, right. Ella shoved her burned fingers under the cold water tap. “Found anything?”

“One entry. Guy died more than forty years ago.”

“Any pictures?”

“No. But I got his cousin’s info, we could check it out.”

“He’s got a cousin?” Hard to imagine Dave with family. Unless of course it wasn’t Dave, or his family. “Give me the address, we can meet up there later, after work.”

She jotted the address down and flipped her phone closed. A glance at the plastic clock on the wall told her it was eight in the morning. Time for a shower and that bright new day.

Her phone rang again. Who could that be? You got three guesses. She flipped it open. And the prize goes to...

“Ella?” Dave snapped. “Need you to check something out.”

“Morning, boss.” Brad. Dave. Whatever your name is. “What’s the matter? Animals, pissy Shades, elves on the loose? Team one is ready for anything.” She bit the inside of her cheek. Damn, coffee was definitely off limits for her from now on.

A short silence greeted her question. Then Dave said, “Have you been drinking?”

“Just coffee.”

“Okay.” Dave sounded dubious. “Grab your partner and head over to Franklin Avenue.”

“It’s just around the corner. What’s up?”

“Something big fell from the sky a few minutes ago, crashing a car. I’m sending Martha Graham, too, with more people, but I need you to identify the creature for me as soon as possible.”

“Trying to fit it into your pattern?”

Dave grunted. “Yeah.”

“Any luck so far?”

“Nope.” Now he hummed. “But the tendency is for Gates to open close to your apartment.”

Ella shivered. Oh it’s just that the Shades want to take Finn with them. Nothing to worry about. “The snake at the docks was quite far from here.”

“True. The decay analysis showed that it came through quite a while ago, though. A few weeks back.”

Curioser and curioser. “Okay, I’m on it.”

“Take care of yourself.”

She smiled at the words and the affectionate tone, before she remembered Dave wasn’t who he seemed to be. Damn.

Chapter Four

Draumar

Judging from the number of serpentine necks and fanged heads lying in a pool of gore on top of the smashed car, Ella had no doubt the thing that had fallen from the sky was a giant snake.

A crowd had gathered to gawk at it. Time to take action.

Ella opened the door and stepped out of the car, lifting her badge. “Everyone, back to your business. Nothing more to see here.”

Everyone inched closer before she’d finished talking. Crap.

She flipped her phone open to inform Dave what she was seeing, and turned to ask Finn if any part of the creature was missing.

Finn was still sitting in the car, face blank. Frowning, she gave Dave a brief description of the animal and stepped around the car to see what was wrong.

Bracing a hand on the hood, she tapped on Finn’s window. He jerked before pressing the button to lower it.

“Everything okay?” she asked, taking in the sweat standing in gleaming beads on his cheeks. Last time they’d seen a dead flying snake he hadn’t turned a hair, so why was he so shaken now? “What is it?”

He pressed his lips together.

From the corner of her eye she saw police cars arriving. Martha. “Why are you sitting in the car? What’s up with the dead snake here?”

Finn rubbed a hand over his face. “Dreams.”

“You mean nightmares.”

He rolled one shoulder in a shrug and opened the door. She stepped back to give him space. “Are you doing this?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Joining our dreams?”

“No.” Finn stood, head bowed, hands fisted at his sides.

“I’m only trying to understand why this is happening now,” she said.

He lifted his chin. “You never stopped coming to my dreams.” And before she had a chance to formulate an answer to that, his mouth pinched and his gaze narrowed at something over her shoulder.

“Morning,” Martha said, approaching. “We always meet around strange creatures.” The last word directed at Finn. “You know, David Holborn still hasn’t sent me any order for this man’s release.”

“I’m sure it’s just the slow wheels of bureaucracy,” Ella said through gritted teeth. “Finn is officially my temporary partner, approved by David.”

“He won’t be for long if word of his lack of papers reaches the ears of higher officials,” Martha said, and Ella decided she hated her.

Finn’s fists spasmed, muscles jumping to definition underneath his t-shirt.

“He looks delighted to see you, too,” Ella muttered. “Anyhow, I’ve informed my boss about this creature. A flying snake, apparently. Are the fangs poisonous?” She glanced at Finn.

“Sometimes,” he ground out.

“Be careful with the mouths, then.” Ella turned her back to the nasty woman. “Talk with David about how to take care of this. Come on, Finn, let’s go. Something stinks around here.”

***

Ella drummed her fingers on the wheel as she cut across town to the HQ. “I’ve been sharing your dreams all along, haven’t I? Since I was little. Hell, probably since you were little, too. Just how old are you?”

Finn was staring outside, his face hidden. “I have twenty winters and three summers.”

“So... you’re twenty?”

He leaned his head back. “I’ve lived twenty ice years and three mild ones.”

“Twenty-three then. I started seeing things — or dreaming things — when I was around four. I’m twenty. If the lengths of human and elvish years coincide at all...” She frowned at the street ahead. “How old were you when you were thrown off that cliff?”

“Seven.”

“Exactly.” She studied his guarded expression. “What do you wanna bet I started sharing your dreams after you fell?” Another thought hit her. He’d said dreams had led him there. “You knew my face, didn’t you? When you arrived to the city.”

Silence expanded in concentric circles, opening and starting again from the centre where they sat, inside the car, cut off from the world and yet intricately linked to it.

“You knew my face,” she whispered. “Why didn’t you say something, why did you run away from me when I took you out of jail?”

A tremor went through his body. “You didn’t know who I was, and I wasn’t sure who you were. In my dreams you were a child. Now...” He cleared his throat. “Now you’re a woman.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. A woman who desired him very much.

She tried to get her mind back on track. “But you recognized me. Is that why you were there that night when I first met you? Were you following me?”

“I followed the thinning of the Veil. You were there, too.”

He said nothing for a long while, until they reached the HQ and parked in the officers lot.

“What’s the use?” he whispered.

“The use of what?”

“Draumar.” He scowled. Dreams.

“Finn—”

“I shouldn’t have called you when the Shades attacked me,” he said softly.

She flinched and fought to hide her shaking hands by clenching them harder on the wheel. Did he regret it? “No, I’m...” She swallowed. He’d almost died that night. “I’m glad you did. Finn...”

God, why was it so hard to say it?

Her phone rang and she jerked.

“Where are you?” Dave barked with his usual perfect timing.

Well screw you, too. “We’re on our way.” She turned to Finn. “Hey, were you...” Were you glad you found me?

But Finn was already getting out of the car, grabbing onto the door to straighten his bad leg, and the question died on her lips.

They took the elevator in ringing quiet.

She was so close to telling him how much he’d come to mean to her, but his face was as if set in granite, still and unreadable, and her courage deserted her. What if he didn’t have feelings for her?

What if he died tomorrow?

She was relieved when the doors finally whirred open and they exited into the HQ corridor.

Dave’s secretary gave them a disdainful once-over. “He’s with someone important.” She glanced at their rumpled clothes.

Ella glared until the secretary flinched. Heh. She’d learned a few useful tricks from Finn after all. “Dave called me. He obviously wants to talk to us now.”

The secretary sighed theatrically and got up to open the door to the office. “Ella Benson and her partner are here.”

“Send them in!” Dave called.

Ella ignored the long-suffering look on the secretary’s face and pushed inside, followed by Finn.

A woman stood by Dave’s desk, hands clasped behind her back, dressed in casual clothes, black cargo pants and white shirt. Military, even if not in uniform. The stiffness in her posture betrayed her.

“Captain Mary Wood,” the woman said, inclining her head. She had her hair pinned back in a formal chignon. “External Hazards Command.”

Hazards. “Ella Benson, and this my partner, Finn. How can we help you?”

“David Holborn has told me the elves,” Captain Wood spat out the word like a stone, “will come with dragons.” A flicker went through her blue eyes — amusement, perhaps, or scorn. “Therefore I’m here to talk about the dragons, and I’ve been informed that Finn,” she cut him a sharp glance, “is your resident dragon expert.”

***

“So you’re saying you climbed on the dragon’s back, then crawled up the neck to the head and stabbed a knife into it? And that killed it?” Captain Wood scrunched up her nose, then scratched it delicately with a fingertip.

Finn hadn’t said anything yet. He stood, legs loosely apart, his gaze distant.

“I think it flapped away,” Dave said and spread his hands in the air. “Puff, it was gone.”

The Captain ignored him. “Agent Finn. Any ideas on how to control the dragons from a distance, or ways to lure them in?”

Dave leaned back in his chair, toying with a pen, his grin strained. Dave, nervous? The very idea turned Ella’s stomach. What was going on?

God, she really hoped Dave hadn’t shared his suspicions about Finn with the army.

Finn glanced from Dave to the Captain and back. “These are trained dragons. They won’t be lured by anything, or easily fall into traps.”

“Tell us more about them,” Captain Wood said.

Finn’s gaze flicked to the closed door and he tensed like a cornered animal. What the hell was the woman hoping to achieve?

“Their fire can melt steel,” Finn said. “They can fly between buildings, through narrow alleys, crawl through tunnels and swim in water.”

“I see. How about a net? We could catch them like big bad dragonflies.”

Finn took a step back, his hands going to his knives. “You are the military,” he hissed. “What do you want from me?”

An image blinded Ella — a snow-covered plain, the buzz of a machine flying overhead, an impact throwing her to the ground and the realization she wouldn’t make it—

“We want your cooperation,” Wood said.

“Captain Wood,” Dave said in a pleasant voice. “I thought we were clear about this. Finn is under the protection of the Organization.”

Ella sucked a deep breath, sweat running down her face. She wiped it with the back of her hand and met Finn’s confused gaze. His memories could hit her like a wall of bricks.

“Well, I haven’t exactly dragged him off to a closed-doors interrogation, have I?” Captain Wood rolled her eyes and approached Finn who had gone quite pale at her words. “We can talk like civilized people.”

Ella stepped between them. “Excuse me, but did you have any specific questions? Maybe I can help. We’re kinda busy with all the animals crossing over and the Shades.” She bared her teeth in what she hoped was a sweet and pleasant smile.

“I’m not interested in you,” Captain Wood said. “I want to talk to your partner.”

“About what exactly?”

Captain Wood sneered. “His origins, for starters, and his sources of information. I’d like to see his papers. Where is he from?”

Oh Christ, had Martha tipped her off? Ella wouldn’t put it past her.

“You’re not taking Finn,” she hissed. “You have no right.”

“Whether or not I have a right—”

“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Dave barked. “You have no jurisdiction to take anyone, Captain, and don’t pretend you’ve forgotten. If you as much as touch either of them or even talk to them without my permission, I’ll have the legal system crashing down on your heads.”

“We’ll see about this, Sergeant,” Mary Wood said, her scowl matching Dave’s. “If martial law is enforced...”

“We’re not at war yet,” Dave bit out. “Good day, Captain.”

They watched her go, and Ella jerked at the slam of the door.

“Jesus.” She whirled on Dave, itching to smash his smug face in. “What did you tell her?”

“I didn’t tell her he’s an elf, if that’s what you’re implying. She’d have a fit if she knew elves crossed over with the animals.”

Finn made a small sound, his face grey.

Ella reeled. How much did he know? “Damn you, if you’ve told her...”

“You sound like a broken record,” Dave said. “I didn’t tell her. If I did, they’d take all control from me and that wouldn’t benefit the Organization and the world in general. Although I’d really appreciate it if you were honest with me.”

And you with me. “Are you head of this secret Organization?”

“I’m a member of the Assembly.” Dave grabbed his mug from the desk and stared into it. “I can’t have the military do as they please. They are a tool, nothing more. If anyone enforces martial law around here, it will be me.”

Chapter Five

Pain

Ella vibrated with helpless fury as she drove to the address Sarah had given her. Dave knew. Dave goddamn knew about Finn and she still had nothing on him. He held Finn’s fate in his hands and there was nothing she could do.

She tasted blood; she’d been chewing on her lip so hard the skin split. To distract herself, she glanced at Finn who rode shotgun.

He was glaring a hole into the windshield. At least he looked better than before, the color high in his cheeks. Pissed, most probably, at the whole damn world.

The suburban houses, white picket fences and well-tended gardens, rolled on either side. Ella spotted the house number and parked next to a sleek black Chevy Camaro.

Sarah stepped out and nodded at the house. “Shall we? You’re late.”

“Had a run in with the military.” Ella led the way to the door, Finn striding a step behind, his hands on his knives. “By the way, you said you didn’t know Dave was a member of your super secret organization. He seems to be a leading party.”

“He’s a member of the Assembly?” Sarah’s surprise sounded genuine, but that didn’t mean Ella could trust her. In fact, she wondered if she could trust anyone ever again.

Strangely enough, right now, the only one she trusted was Finn — and he didn’t even know it.

Sarah rang the bell and they waited, the cold wind whipping around them. Ella huddled in her jacket, Sarah in her knee-length coat. Finn was only in his long-sleeved t-shirt and didn’t seem to notice the cold. This was probably summertime for him.

Twenty winters and three summers. His pale hair danced around his thin face, held back by the black bandana, and his eyes glinted like crystals. Boreal...

“Who is it?” The door opened an inch and a wrinkled woman’s face appeared. “What do you want?”

“Police,” Ella presented her badge. “Not to worry, ma’am. You’re not in trouble, we just have a few questions.”

“They always say that,” the woman grumbled. “No trouble, and then you’re in a big steaming pile of it.” Yet she opened the door and let them inside, muttering all the way.

Her living room was dusty but tidy, lacy curtains at the windows, porcelain figurines on the round tables, the couch and armchairs covered in old, worn velvet.

“Are you Mrs. Hoodvild?” Sarah asked.

“Indeed I am.” The woman gestured at the couch. “Sit. Ask your questions.”

Finn went to lean against the wall by the window, eyes taking in the place. Ella smiled politely at the old woman and took a seat next to Sarah.

“We are looking into Bran Hoodvild. He and your husband were cousins, right?” Sarah gave a brilliant smile.

“What’s it to you?” Mrs. Hoodvild asked. “My husband passed away twenty years ago, probably before you kids were even born.”

“Bran Hoodvild,” Ella said, “is the one we’re interested in. We haven’t been able to find a lot on him. Can you tell us anything?”

Mrs. Hoodvild shrugged and tugged her black cardigan closed. “He was a quiet man, hard working. He was a sheriff. He didn’t live here, we barely ever saw him. Didn’t like social gatherings. I swear I never saw him eat or drink once.”

Finn lifted his head from across the room and his eyes glinted with interest.

Sarah leaned forward. “Can you tell us what he looked like?” she asked. “Short or tall, dark or blond...”

“In fact,” Ella said, opening her wallet and drawing a picture of Dave, “how about looking at this photo and telling us if this is Bran Hoodvild?”

***

Ella watched Sarah get into her chic car and drive away. She leaned her head back, bone-tired and wishing she knew what to do next. “So what do you think?”

Finn gave a non-committal grunt, folding his long legs under the dashboard. He slammed the door closed.

“She said it looked like Bran,” she whispered. Only she hadn’t been sure. Bran had been... chubbier. Had dark eyes. A beard.

In fact, Mrs. Hoodvild had said, Bran hadn’t really looked like that.

No proof. And without a DNA sample, she had nothing.

Ella started the car. Damn you, Simon, how did you stumble upon all this? She missed her old partner. He would’ve known what to do next.

Shaking her head, she drove toward home, the whole car clinking with iron charms and trinkets. So far it seemed to be working; no Shade attack since she’d hung them.

Silence lay thick between them as they drove through the busy city center and approached their neighborhood. She glanced at Finn’s stern profile. Evening was falling and the lights from shops and restaurants painted his face and hair in red and yellow stripes.

“We’re back where we started,” Ella said as she drove into their street. “Even worse, Dave knows about you, the army are suspicious, and we don’t have one piece of evidence on what Dave is.”

Finn blinked, glancing her way. His eyes seemed bruised in the fading light, his cheekbones too sharp, his lips pale and cracked. When she stopped the car, it took him a moment to start moving.

“Just how many hours sleep did you catch last night?” Ella wanted to know, familiar worry tightening her chest. He’d come into her room at three in the morning. How many times had he woken during the night?

Finn shrugged and blinked again as if struggling to keep his eyes open. Not glaring. Exhausted.

She left him to make his own slow, limping way to the building and kept the elevator doors open for him. His lips tilted in a faint smile when he reached her, and they rode up together, his scent of burnt sugar and spice filling the cramped space.

Once inside the apartment, Finn didn’t even check the rooms as he normally did. He dropped onto the sofa and bent down to remove his boots.

Ella locked and did the checking herself. Satisfied they were alone in the apartment, she returned into the living room and found him slumped back against the cushions, boots still on, snoring softly.

She considered taking them off but he still had his knives and gun, and she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t get a bullet or a stab wound for her trouble.

It was still early — barely seven o’ clock. She stood in the middle of the room, feeling like a zombie. She hadn’t gotten much more sleep than Finn and her eyes burned. Shopping, cooking, cleaning... Later. She really had to cook something, even if just oatmeal again. Finn seemed to like it, and he couldn’t skip more meals or he’d turn into an x-ray.

She recalled the dinner he’d cooked and her stomach grumbled. He should cook more often; she’d have to ask him to, although what had happened after the meal... Finn sprawled among the pools of black ichor, his chest not rising, his face slack...

God, she’d been trying so hard not to remember the image; it flashed before her eyes at unsuspected moments, freezing her blood.

Better if Finn didn’t cook again. She’d probably associate stew with blood-curdling terror.

She looked at him, focusing on the way his chest rose and fell, on the small vein throbbing in his throat, the way his eyes moved rapidly behind his lids. Barely dropped into sleep and already dreaming. Fingers crossed it was a happy, sunny dream.

Yeah, and she was Santa Claus.

Grabbing John Grey’s epic, the Grarsaga, she sat on the armchair and leaned against the cushions, sighing. God, it felt good to stretch and rest, but she should at least read the book to the end, read John Grey’s whole story, and maybe... maybe Simon had left a note in a margin somewhere for her.

Elves and King Sirurd, his mysterious daughter the Stabilizer, and the Guardians... The letters swam in her eyes. Maybe if she rested them for five minutes. Only five, she told herself sternly. Then she’d... She’d...

Crystal towers shot up into grey skies, rainbows and clouds reflected in their sheer surfaces. Snowflakes danced on the crisp air and on the bell towers of the temples lining the street, colorful banners flew, crimson, azure, yolk yellow, snapping in the wind that wailed in the mountains all around.

She stood in a small crowd, huddled in her fur coat, its softness caressing her neck. They left the road and took a winding path. She walked alongside the adults — tall, lithe figures dressed in elegant coats with high collars — toward the outskirts of the city, over crackling, frozen grass.

Something was wrong, she could feel it. Covert glances shot her way — no, not her way. They were directed at a boy walking quietly by her side, pale blond hair whipping in the wind, revealing slender, pointed ears. He stomped forward in his padded boots, hands clenched at his sides, his uptilted, blue eyes glaring ahead. He looked familiar; had they played together before?

The scene changed. They stood on a platform, frigid air currents wrapping around them like snakes. Ice sculptures of the gods, old as the city itself, stood on one side, looking on them reprovingly. The boy by her side shuddered, still glaring, though his mouth trembled. He was afraid, she realized, deathly afraid — but of what?

A group of tall adults approached, wearing pointed hats and long mantles of dark feathers. They wore masks — unless their faces were naturally so still. They didn’t seem to frighten the boy, though. He was staring at the other end of the platform, the side where you could see the mountains across the ravine and hear the wind howling. She wanted to take his hand and tell him everything would be okay, but she couldn’t because his fingers were curled into fists, and besides, two adults stepped forward and led the boy away from her. She knew their faces, too. A woman, beautiful with long silvery hair — modhir. Mother. And the man, his harsh face that brought with it ghost memories of pain and fear — fadhir. Father.

Terror gripped her chest again, constricting her breathing. Where are you taking him? she tried to shout, but couldn’t. She stepped back, fading in the snow.

The next thing she knew was a sensation of falling, heart pounding, the air rushing in her ears, her limbs flailing on nothingness, void and a promise of suffering — and then the crash, breaking her body, ripping her thoughts apart with blinding pain and she jerked and thrashed, groping for a thread of sanity in the howling terror—

— and fell off the armchair, landing on her knees on the cold floor. She fell back against the chair, shuddering and swallowing bile, phantom pain rippling up her leg, and she still felt the bone sticking out of her flesh, tearing it further with every movement.

She drew a long breath, let it out slowly. The mountains and snow faded, leaving only the room, quiet and... empty.

Where was Finn?

Then she heard the sounds of retching from the bathroom and struggled to her feet, remembering that the dream she’d had, and the pain she’d felt, were in fact his.

***

“I’ll make you some tea,” she said, tugging his damn boots off and helping him lie down in his bed. He was shivering violently, and she couldn’t help but recall the serious elf boy in her dream, shivering as he looked at the cliff down the mountain. She touched his cheek; his skin was clammy and cold. “Finn, can you hear me?”

His gaze flicked her way and he nodded.

She’d seen his younger self and maybe it wasn’t the first time. That fascination she’d felt the moment she’d first lain eyes on him, maybe it was recognition. He’d known her face when he’d arrived; and she’d known his.

Why? What was the meaning of it all?

“I’ll go make that tea.” She fled his room, boiled the water and poured it into two mugs. Her hands shook. That man’s face. Fadhir. Finn’s father. She knew that face, too. The face that haunted her nightmares and memories since she could remember; a face that brought with it memories of pain.

Finn’s shivering had subsided somewhat by the time she returned. He sat on his bed, propped against the wooden headboard, head bowed, hands fisted in the covers. He glanced up. She passed him a mug and he took it, cradling it in his lap.

“I was there,” she said softly, the horror still too raw for her to speak loudly. “With you.”

He nodded.

“Why is this happening?” Ella muttered, warming her hands on the mug. “What’s the point?”

He shook his head and she remembered him asking the same that morning. His bandana had fallen off in the bathroom and his ears poked out, those intricate black patterns on them standing out against the pale silk of his hair. She wanted to touch them, feel their shape, memorize the symmetry of his face under her fingertips, under her lips...

She sipped her tea, scalding her tongue. “Your father,” she said.

Finn flinched hard, and tea sloshed over the rim of his mug. With a curse, she made a grab for it and put both mugs on the floor, then took Finn’s hands, turning them over. They were red. He looked up, wide-eyed.

“I’m fine,” he said, sounding uncertain for the first time.

“The hell you are. I’ll get you some ice.”

His hands convulsed in hers. “Stay.”

“But you’ve burned your—”

“Since I can remember,” he said, his eyes desperate, “you’ve been in my dreams, and you made me feel safe. Stay.”

His words hung in the ensuing silence like raindrops caught in the web of time.

Ella jerked back, snatching her hands away. Tiny alarms went off inside her head, but she couldn’t pinpoint the danger. After all, she remembered being in his dream, remembered the urge to protect him from all the pain — obviously an old instinct. He’d been hers to protect since they were little and she’d failed him every single time. How could he feel safe with her?

Finn’s reddened hands curled in his lap. He stared down at them, jaw working.

“I was never able to protect you,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. “How did I ever make you feel safe? I let you fall.”

Her words echoed in the hush descending on the room like thick mist. Finn’s fists tightened. She had a feeling she kept saying the wrong things — like a fish on a hook twisting this way and that to avoid the truth.

“I’m going to train,” Finn said, a crack in his voice. He swung his legs off the other side, struggling to rise.

“Train? Now?” She reached out, grabbed his forearm. He was shaking.

“I know you don’t trust me,” he said, the words barely a breath. His hands clenched and unclenched. “I swore to you I’m on your side, and I am. I promised not to die, and I’m doing my best.”

Her heart thumped painfully against her breastbone. “God, Finn, it’s not that. I just...” She scrubbed a hand over her face. “I just don’t know what to do with...” Fuck. She was doing this all wrong. “I do trust you. I’ve always trusted you.”

Finn was looking at her now. Hope filled his eyes, so bright, tempered with dark confusion.

“Scoot over.” When he didn’t move, she nudged him until he shifted. He watched her as she took off her boots and climbed in next to him. When she lay down, he swallowed hard, his wide eyes reflecting the light of the lamp, then slid down to lie facing her.

“I’m staying,” she said, her heart racing. He was so close she could see every detail on his face, the greys and blues in his eyes, the fine grain of his skin, the strong line of his jaw. He was breathing fast, too, watching her as if she might vanish in a puff of smoke. Slowly he lifted his hand and placed it on her cheek, warm and rough against her skin. She covered it with her hand and smiled.

He smiled back, a faint lifting of the corners of his mouth, a shifting of color in his eyes. She put her hand on his chest; underneath it, his heart beat double time. She wanted to kiss his lips, his cheeks, his eyes — mine, mine to protect, mine to hold — but didn’t dare break the moment.

She shifted, closing the gap between them, and he turned onto his back, offering his shoulder for pillow. She snuggled against him, her wounded arm thrown over his middle, and she listened to his heartbeat, feeling his chest rise and fall, the rhythm reassuring — he was alive, he was breathing — his sweet and spicy scent swamping her senses.

A great sigh went through him. She felt his body relax beneath her, muscles going lax and pliant.

“Sleep now,” she whispered, amazed he let his guard down with her after all that had happened. “I’m here.”

He mumbled something unintelligible against her hair, curling his arm around her waist, and not a minute later his regular, deep breathing told her he was asleep.

Chapter Six

Family

Something was off.

A heavy arm lay over her waist, pinning her to the mattress, and a warm breath stirred the hair at her nape, sending shivers through her. She was held against a hard chest, a heart beating at her back, the cadence slow and measured.

Who’d have thought Finn liked cuddling. Ella’s lips twitched. Being held against him felt right, and wasn’t what had woken her up.

Pale morning light filtered through the shutters. She shifted and the arm around her tightened, tendons like steel cables digging into her ribs. The heartbeat at her back accelerated, the puffs of air at her neck quicker. Was he having a nightmare?

She was about to twist around to see his face, when something hard poked her leg. She stilled her movements, blinking. Oh.

Looked like Finn didn’t just feel safe with her. His body was very happy to be pressed against her.

And hers didn’t mind, either. At all. Tingles went from her belly to her toes, tiny wisps of lightning. Just the thought of getting Finn naked and sweaty between the sheets, skin to skin, the hot press of lips... the sounds he’d make...

God, yeah.

And still... that wasn’t what had woken her, was it? She frowned in the pre-dawn gloom. Something nudged at the edge of her consciousness, trying to break through the heaviness of sleep and the contentment of being in Finn’s arms.

A sound.

Someone was moving inside the apartment.

Breath hitching, she tried to think. Her weapons. She’d stripped them at some point, when she realized she was spending the night in Finn’s bed. Left them on the floor. She strained against Finn’s hold but he only pulled her closer to him, whispering something against her skin — her name, she realized — sending delicious shivers through her.

Dammit. How was a girl to concentrate?

The sound came again, nearer, right outside the closed door of the bedroom. Shit. “Finn, wake up.”

Not fair, dammit. He was finally resting, he’d slept through the night — and so have you, a smug little voice piped up helpfully — and she had to wake him because something was outside.

Right outside.

A scratch on the door, and for a moment she thought it might be Missy — the kitten may have wandered in the previous night from Mike’s apartment. Damn, if Missy had pissed on the furniture—

A screech raised all the hairs on her body. She jerked up and out of bed, scrabbling for her gun, as Finn uncoiled in a single movement, drawing his knives from his belt — hell, had he slept with them? Maybe that was what she’d felt, and not Finn being happy to be in bed with her after all—

A crash and the door cracked, splintering down the middle. Swallowing down her racing pulse, Ella cocked her gun, throwing Finn a quick glance.

He stood by the bed, ash-blond hair tousled, dark-tipped ears poking out, both knives held ready at his sides. His gaze was sharp and wide-awake, drilling a hole into the splintered door. “Frekar,” he whispered.

Wolves. Plural.

Damn.

A wolf threw itself at the door again, breaking it in two, and lunged into the room, beak open and teeth glinting. The animal slowed, white scales shimmering and rattling on its flanks. A clawed foot clicked on the floor as it moved sinuously.

Ella aimed down the barrel of her gun at the wolf’s head, held her breath.

A screech and another wolf burst through the broken door, jumping on Finn. Her shout of fear was cut short as the first wolf turned to her and screeched.

“Damn you,” she hissed and shot it, hitting it in the neck. Crimson bloomed and the animal jerked back, then fixed a malevolent grey eye on her, claws scraping the floor. Of course, it’s not a Shade, iron bullets won’t make it disappear, she had the time to think before it pounced.

Her head hit the floor with a thunk, and everything went silent and dark for a moment. The respite was over too soon — a blaze of white-hot pain in her arm jolted her back. Holy fuck, that hurt. The wolf opened its beak and raised a claw — to slice her again, she thought distantly — and she fumbled at her belt for her knives.

Something hit the wolf and it staggered sideways. Drawing her daggers, she got up, ready for a throw. The wolf whined, trying to reach the hilt of a knife jutting from its flank — Finn’s blade. A quick glance showed her he was on his feet, swiping at the wolf with his one remaining knife.

Her wolf was recovering from the hit, turning back to her. She left it no time to take the initiative. Flinging herself to the side, she took aim and let one knife fly. It hit the animal in the side of its beaked head, burying itself deep.

The wolf staggered forward, blinking, croaking like a crow. Take that, you bastard. Ella lunged and grabbing the hilt of Finn’s Bowie knife, jerked it out. Dark blood fountained, and the wolf wobbled, then went down on its forelegs.

Stepping in, she buried her other knife into the junction of head and neck where the shiny scales glittered like mother-of-pearl. The wolf crashed to the floor, still.

Finn.

He’d lost his knife; it lay a few feet away. The wolf had him pinned to the floor, sharp beak hovering inches from his face. Bright lines flashed on his hands and face.

Fear.

She vaulted over the bed, blood running down in the crook of her elbow, warm and ticklish.

Finn’s arms trembled as he pushed the wolf away — but not far enough, and that sharp beak snapped again, barely missing his throat.

Jesus.

Ella launched herself onto the wolf’s back, plunging her knives into its scaly hide, anchors to help her climb the massive beast. The wolf jerked and twisted — away from Finn, good — beak clicking at her face. She almost fell, her pulse roaring, but managed to hold onto the hilts of the knives and climbed up all the way, pulling a knife free and plunging it into the animal’s neck.

Another twist of that glittering body and her grip slipped. Up and down blurred; she tumbled off, hitting the floor on her side, her arm going numb. Shit.

Her vision cleared, focusing on Finn. He sat astride the wolf, stabbing repeatedly the animal’s neck and head, his lips peeled back in a snarl. His hair flew in sparkling ribbons as he rode the bucking wolf. Savagely, he stabbed again and turned the blade.

The wolf dropped to its haunches, then rolled to the side, spilling Finn to the floor. He fell next to her, blinking up dazedly at the cracked plaster of the ceiling.

Then his eyes narrowed at her and he sat up, wincing. “Your arm,” he breathed, a horrified whisper.

Surely it wasn’t that bad, she’d have felt it — son of a bitch! The pain finally hit, burning and clawing at her. The ragged tear spilled blood. Her arm was bathed a deep red that dripped off her fingertips as she pushed up on her elbows, her whole body twitching.

Fuck, she was going to pass out. Only Finn’s sudden lunge for her stopped her from hitting the floor again. He mumbled something that sounded like a curse, and then he was gone from her side.

Off to check the apartment, no doubt, and it made sense. The ceiling spun lazily overhead, and she shut her eyes, dizzy. God, please don’t let me throw up.

Then Finn was back, kneeling beside her.

“All clear?” she slurred.

Mouth in a thin line, he pressed something on her arm. Pain hit her like a truck and her mind went white. In degrees, the pain subsided, and she became aware of gentle hands patting the wound. She opened watering eyes and saw Finn apply butterfly bandages, a scowl on his face. He ripped a package of gauze open with his teeth —white teeth, bared in a savage sneer, his hand stabbing the wolf again and again — and started wrapping up her arm.

“Finn?” she whispered, horrified at the tremble in her voice. Goddammit, everything was fine, the wolves were dead, Finn was okay, she was okay. What else could she ask for?

Without a word, he snapped the medic-kit closed and scooped her in his arms. Oh Christ, the room swam and she buried her face in his shoulder, swallowing bile.

“Put me down,” she demanded, her voice barely making it past her lips. “I don’t like... being carried...”

Finn never broke stride. He kicked her bedroom door open and deposited her on her bed. “I’ll keep watch,” he said between clenched teeth. “You rest.”

She struggled to keep her eyes open. There was something she should be doing. Asking him if he was hurt. Checking him.

Finn left and returned presently, holding their knives. He closed the door and dragged the chair behind it, then sat with a cloth and started cleaning the blades. Up and down, strong, sure movements, and a glare that could melt steel.

He looks all right, Ella thought before she passed out.

***

“You should move to another apartment,” a familiar male voice was saying. The sound ripped the edge of blackness, waking Ella. “Not safe for you here anymore, not after this last attack.”

Instead of a reply came a click and a pop.

A nervous bark of laughter. “Hey, it was just an idea, no need to shoot— Oh, you’re cleaning the guns, are you?”

“What do you want?” Finn asked, his tone neither hostile nor interested. Bland. Tired.

“I told you.” Mike cleared his throat. “Here it’s dangerous, so maybe moving—”

Another pop and click. “Location doesn’t matter.”

“And how do you know— will you leave that gun alone for a second?”

A beat of silence. Ella struggled to lift heavy lids. She heard the sound of something soft hitting the floor, a quiet curse.

“You look bad, man,” Mike muttered. “That cut looks nasty, let me have a look — okay, okay, hands off, I get it.”

Cut? Nasty? The words jolted Ella into complete awareness. She forced her eyes open, needles of light stabbing them. She groaned.

“She’s awake.” Mike started toward her, a blurry shape. He sat on her bed, hands twisting nervously in his lap. “Hey, girl, how’re you doing?”

“Been better.” She tried to smile. Mike’s face was drawn and worried, and she tried to see past him. “How’s Finn?”

“Stubborn bastard won’t let me look at his injuries — what are you doing?”

Ella sat up and bent over, waiting for the black splotches to fade from her vision. Ignoring the hot stabs of pain in her arm, she swung her legs off the bed. Fully dressed, clothes wrinkled and covered in dried blood. Ugh.

The light from the windows entered slanted. Early afternoon. The rays caught Finn’s hair, turning them into silver flame, as he struggled to get up from the chair he’d apparently occupied since dawn. Alarm darkened his eyes when she stumbled before regaining her balance — damn, just how much blood had she lost? — and he took a step toward her, arms outstretched as if to catch her.

She walked right up to him, caught his face in her hands. “Where are you hurt?”

“I’m not...” Eyes wide, lips parted — god, she wanted to kiss him so badly.

Instead, she tore her eyes from his face and checked him over. Found the deep cuts on his forearms by the stickiness of blood.

“You should be resting—”

She put a hand over his mouth, and his eyes widened more. “Shut up, Finn.” She glanced back at Mike. “Medic-kit.”

Mike scurried off and returned with the green box. “I was trying to convince him to move out—”

“I know, I heard. It won’t help, he’s right.”

Mike sighed. “Damn.”

“Yeah.” Distractedly, Ella wrestled Finn back into the chair. It was like pushing against a wall until he relented and sank down. “It doesn’t look so bad.”

“And your arm?” Mike asked.

“Fine.” Burning pain flared every time she moved it, but a glance at the bandage told her the steri-strips had held. She knelt at Finn’s feet. “Finn took care of it this morning.”

“You’re okay?” Finn whispered as if he still wasn’t sure. He lifted a bloody hand to her chin, gripped it gently.

Now why did it make her eyes sting so?

“Hey, I called your boss,” Mike said. “He’s sending his people over to take care of the dead animals in Finn’s room.”

The wolves. A shiver wracked her. “Thanks.”

“I’ll leave you two then to patch yourselves up,” Mike said briskly. “I don’t think I’m of any help here.”

Ella turned to apologize for ignoring him, but Mike flashed her a thumbs-up and a quick smile before ducking out of the room.

She bent back to Finn’s arms where the wolf had clawed him. “These could fester. You should have cleaned them.”

He grunted as she sprayed antiseptic, following her movements with hooded eyes as she turned his arms over to see if any of the wounds needed more than just a bandage. She fished into the medic-kit, pulling out more. She really had to go bandage shopping soon, dammit.

Letting Finn’s hands fall in his lap, she wound the bandages around his arms. Glancing up, she noted a cut on his throat that had bled but was now scabbed over. Probably didn’t need any attention.

Done with his arms, she lifted the hem of his bloodied shirt to check on the bandage there, hoping those gashes hadn’t torn open again. The gauze looked clean.

Finn made a small noise in the back of his throat and reached for his shirt, catching her hands. Color was rising to his cheeks.

Had she hurt him somehow?

With a deep breath, he shot to his feet, and she scrambled backward. “You need to talk to your mother,” he said, and she stared at him, mouth hanging open.

Talk about payback. “What? What for?”

“About your family,” Finn said, bandaged arms crossed over his chest. He turned his back to her, his spine stiff, and walked out of the room.

“What about my family?”

But Finn didn’t reply.

***

In an age of prosthetics that moved with the power of thought and the recording of images in dreams, you’d think they’d manage to make serums that were palatable, or at least that didn’t taste like shredded plastic with added sugar.

Wrong.

Remembering the taste, Ella made a face as she walked into the warmth of the dimly-lit restaurant, a chill evening breeze chasing at her heels. At least after two serum bottles she felt better; less shaky, though the wound still burned like fire with her movements.

The restaurant was full of sussurating whispers and her hand inched toward her gun. She let out a shuddering breath. These last encounters with the Shades and wolves had shaken her badly. Open spaces, noise, crowds — they made her heart race.

Finn reached her side and her pulse stuttered, caught between relief and yearning. The kiss they’d shared seemed like a million years ago.

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He’d cleaned up nicely — whoa, her inner voice moaned, nicely? That’s all you got to say? — okay, he looked jaw-dropping gorgeous in his new pair of black pants and blue jacket, his white shirt stretched tight across his chest and wide shoulders.

There, I admit it. Happy? she snarled inwardly and the little voice cringed and went into hiding.

Her mother waved from a table at the far end, and Ella sucked in a deep breath before setting her feet in that direction. Candles flickered on the white tablecloths, and red roses in small glass containers gave off their heavy scent. Didn’t manage to mask Finn’s smell, though, and it teased her senses as she strode between round tables where customers in tailored suits and haute couture dresses sat primly, sipping white wine from shining crystal.

Feeling underdressed in her button-down blouse and dark pants, she took a seat across from her mother who was dressed up in black satin and pearls. Finn sat stiffly next to her, adjusting his shoulder holster discreetly beneath his jacket, his gun bulging at his side.

Oblivious, her mother gave him a wide smile and her undivided attention. “Finn, right?” she cooed. “How are you, darling?” Her eyes slid to the bandages visible at his wrists and drew back, mouth pursing. “What happened?”

“Work, you know.” Ella decided not to care her mother hadn’t noticed the stiff way she held her left arm.

“Told you a thousand times that line of work isn’t for you,” her mother said, rearranging the silverware by her plate, looking annoyed.

Ella swallowed the automatic retort — you think you know what’s best for me, huh? — and placed her hands on the table, fingers splayed, so they wouldn’t form fists. “Mom, we don’t have much time.” Shades and wolves waiting for us at every corner, whad’ya know? “Finn was telling me he’s interested in our family tree.”

Finn arched a brow at her. She shrugged.

“You insisted on seeing me tonight,” her mother drawled, “to ask me about our family tree?”

“Uh, Finn was looking at the photos you brought and thought...” Ella swallowed.

“I thought you look Norwegian,” Finn supplied, deadpan.

Strained silence followed in the wake of his words.

“You did?” Ella said, unable to stop the question from leaving her mouth. Her mother was a dyed blond, the roots showing, and her eyes were dark chocolate, like Ella’s. Raven-black brows framed her gaze.

To all appearances unperturbed, Finn leaned back in his chair and fixed his million-watt stare on her mother.

Who froze like a deer in headlights. She recovered with remarkable speed, though, raising a hand to her mouth and laughing lightly.

“Goodness,” she said breathlessly. “Very clever.”

Finn and Ella exchanged a glance.

“Clever?” Ella repeated.

“If you wanted to see me, you just had to ask, darling boy,” Ella’s mother told Finn warmly and waved a hand at the waiter who scuttled toward them. “More wine. What are you having?”

Ella swallowed a sigh. “I’d like some wine, too. Finn as well.”

Finn didn’t dispute her comment, only settled deeper in his chair — as much as one could in those damn high-backed, hard things.

He hadn’t told her what his theory was and she itched to know, but he seemed content to bide his time in this high-class restaurant with her flirty and inebriated mother.

The wine arrived in tall crystal glasses. Ella sipped hers. Finn swallowed his down in one long gulp. Christ, she’d have to carry him home and wasn’t sure he’d let her.

Her mother giggled and raised her glass. “To our family.”

Finn nodded solemnly, while Ella almost crushed the stem of the glass in her twitching fingers.

Patience. She’d have to look the word up in a dictionary.

“Despite my blond locks,” her mother said coquettishly, “I’m not of northern origin. I have French roots, from the southern part. I still have family there. Descendants of knights, I’ll have you know.”

Southern France. That explained Ella’s dark hair and eyes. She’d heard her mother talk of her aunts, living near Marseille, on the Mediterranean. They’d always seemed as fantastical as the elves in the tales.

Now both were real.

Finn glanced at his empty glass and her mother waved again at the waiter. “More wine for this young man.”

Whoa. “Finn...”

He merely glanced her way, accepted the refill of his glass, and swallowed that down in one go — again.

Holy shit.

“And your husband?” he inquired, his voice polite and even, his hand steady as he placed the empty glass back on the table.

“Ah, Robert, well, he...” Her mother sipped her wine, her gaze going distant. “He does have family from the north of Europe. Can’t tell you exactly where, but he often said his grandfather was a Viking.” She snorted. “The valor and bravery was too diluted to hold, I’d guess.”

Ella realized she was again about to break her glass, and decided to drink the wine instead. Maybe Finn was wise to down two glasses before entering this conversation.

“He is of Scandinavian origin,” Finn said, his voice less steady than before. “Are you sure?”

“Oh yeah, it’s all coming back to me now.” Ella’s mother played with the condensation on her glass. “The Bensons. Came from Denmark, if I recall. Some Jewish blood in there, too, which is why Robert doesn’t look like a Viking, though he’s tall and...” Her mouth turned down at the corners. “I do think he mentioned a family name, some famous ancestor of his or other.”

Ella leaned forward, wine forgotten. “What name?”

“A very odd one. Wait, what was it?” Her mother snapped her fingers. “Srour. Srourson.”

It was as if a fist hit Ella in the chest, robbing her of air. “No,” she said.

Finn gave an encouraging nod. “Any other—”

“You’re wrong,” Ella nearly shouted and stood, her chair screeching across the polished floor. “This can’t be.”

The whispers from the nearby tables ceased, and an expectant hush fell over the restaurant. A waiter was hurrying toward them.

“Ella, sit down,” her mother hissed, “you’re making a spectacle—”

“Sirurdsson?” Ella asked, barely able to breathe. “Is that the name?”

“Ah yes, that’s right! Always thought it a weird one. Now will you sit?”

Ella turned on her heel and walked out of the restaurant, her blood rushing in her ears.

No, impossible. Ridiculous. Absurd.

So awful it was almost funny.

Because if it were true... Well, that would make her a descendant of King Sirurd. Of Sirurd’s odd daughter.

And her husband, John Grey.

Chapter Seven

Stars

“Was that your theory? That I’m a descendant of John Grey and Sirurd’s daughter?” Ella started the car. “The book doesn’t say if they had children, but I guess...”

Finn flicked her a bewildered glance. “The book from the library?”

Oh. Right. Sheepish, she avoided his gaze as she pulled out of the parking lot and into the street. It was Mike she’d shared this with. “The Grarsaga, yes. King Sirurd’s daughter was apparently wed to the mysterious John Grey, at the insistence of the Light elves. And the name my mother mentioned...”

“Sirurdsson,” Finn whispered. “You think you’re his descendant.”

Well, now she thought about it more calmly, it sounded like six kinds of crazy. Just because the name fit, that didn’t mean it was true. “Nah, probably a coincidence. I got stressed. My mom does that to me.”

He nodded. Heavy silence settled over them as they approached their neighborhood.

“So what was your theory, then?” she wanted to know.

Finn glowered at the road ahead. “Changeling.”

“You thought I was changed at birth.”

He shrugged. “No, I thought your mother might know of any such stories in your family.”

“You thought I was a descendant of changelings. Dave said the elves experimented on children.” Nightmares, snatchers. Returning the children mad and sickly. “Why?”

“To give them magic.” Finn spoke the words as if it was self evident. Well, not to her.

“How? Why?”

He shrugged. “To make them more like us, perhaps.”

“So you think that’s why I share your dreams. Because I have some magic in me.” But why would they want to make humans more like them? Unless this stabilizing ability Dave went on and on about had something to do with it? “What if—”

A dark cloud enveloped the car. The metal groaned, the springs creaked. The wheel was jerked from Ella’s hands, and she slammed into the door.

“The hell?” She blinked dazedly. Finn was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him. Her ears rang.

Then her door was wrenched open and a clawed hand reached inside and grabbed her. She resisted, feet kicking at the pedals. Finn had her wounded arm, fingers digging in her flesh, and the pain sent sparkles dancing in her vision.

He gasped and released her as he was pulled backward, out the other side of the car.

Shades. They were right at an entry to the Veil, its torn vapors filling the car. They had Finn.

This was really starting to piss her off, and she hadn’t been in a good mood to start with. So she had powers? So she was Joan Grey or something?

She’d show the bastards.

Drawing a knife from her belt, she slashed at the claws coming for her again and grinned at the screech of pain it caused. Climbing over the seats, she exited from the other side of the car, and found Finn struggling in the hold of two massive trolls.

“Hey, whoreson. He’s mine.” Adrenaline pumping faster and faster, she let loose two knives, finding her targets, and grabbed Finn’s arm as they disintegrated. The Veil pulsed around them, sucking them. They needed to get out.

A goblin crept out of the throbbing darkness and Ella let go of Finn to dispatch the ugly critter back to hell. Finn stabbed and cut another one down, and by the time she rejoined him, a third one had snuck behind him. She cursed it as she flicked her blade through its gut.

Turning, she found Finn regarding her with a light lift of his lips. “Whoreson?” he quoted.

She shrugged, grinning, ignoring the burning in her arm, and nodded at the light filtering through the cloud. The car loomed ahead; their means of escape. “I guess this Old Norse business is starting to get to me. Come on, let’s head back home.”

***

Neither of them talked the rest of the way. Her arm ached like a mother and she hoped she hadn’t reopened the wound with all the pulling and hitting. The stinking Shades were growing resistant to iron like viruses to antibiotics. Damn pests.

Finn sat with his gun in his lap and a knife in his other hand, gaze flicking in every direction. What if he was right? What if there was something to his changeling theory? What if Sirurd’s daughter was a changeling? She’d have to check the book.

If the Shades or the wolves didn’t attack them again. Dammit. She now knew how superstars felt. No privacy.

Adrenaline still pumped and her heart raced as they rode the elevator. She wiped her sweaty palms on her pants. She was aware of Finn’s body heat, his breathing rhythm, his scent, the glitter of his eyes in the dim lighting. Aware of the way her body tightened, the way her mouth tingled at the memory of the one kiss they’d shared.

He turned toward her, letting out a puff of air, and licked his lips. God, was he doing it on purpose? He had a smudge on his cheek; she reached up and wiped it, fingers brushing velvet skin.

His breath caught on a gasp, loud in the quiet, and he leaned into the touch. He reached out, his hand hovering so close to her jaw she felt its warmth. Her hand ghosted down his chin to his throat, feeling the thundering pulse there, then to his chest, covering his heart.

“Ella...” His voice was strangled.

Oh god, what was she doing? She pulled back her hand; he caught it, pinned it back to his chest, against his heartbeat. Dipping his head, he pressed his forehead to hers, his breath caressing her lips.

Then they were kissing, his lips hot and sweet, his body shoving her against the elevator wall, a solid barrier. Oh lord, at last!

His eyes opened and he pulled back, grimacing. “Faen. You don’t want this.”

What? Trying to catch her breath and get her brain to work, Ella considered this. Well, she’d pushed him away the last time, hadn’t she? What the hell had she been thinking? “Don’t you dare stop,” Ella said. “I do want this. Very much. More than anything—”

His mouth covered her lips, bruising, his teeth biting lightly. His hands circled her waist, and his chest pressed her into the wall. A fire leaped in her veins. She slid her fingers into his hair, silken strands slipping through them.

Mine, she thought, her heart tripping. Mine.

The elevator doors opened and she couldn’t move, couldn’t think beyond Finn’s taste, the feel of him. He took a step sideways, pulling her along, and together they stumbled into the corridor. He backtracked until he hit the wall and she wound her arms around his neck, unable to stop kissing him.

But he moved again, pushing her, following her, his arms around her, until she slammed into the apartment door.

Panting in her ear, he whispered, “Keys,” and she patted her pockets until she found them and passed them along.

Cursing softly, every warm exhalation on her neck making her shiver, he unlocked the door and they tumbled inside. Finn gripped her waist and lifted her off her feet with ease, striding into the living room. He let her slide down on the sofa, and she tugged him down with her, needing to feel him cover her body. He complied, stretching on top of her, keeping his weight on his hands, his soft hair sliding forward to tickle her cheeks.

“Finn...” Her chest ached with joy. She wanted him closer, skin to skin. “You’re overdressed.”

He smiled down at her — god, so beautiful — and nuzzled her throat. “You really...” He pressed hot kisses down her collarbone and she shivered. “...want me?”

Was he kidding?

“I love you,” she said, her voice shaky and her heart raw, and oh lord, hadn’t she meant to keep those words locked inside? How had they slipped out, burning and aching?

Eyes closing, he groaned, a rumbling against her belly, and he tapped two fingers against his chest — like he’d done after the Shades’ attack at the apartment. Did it mean something?

With a shrug of his shoulders, he got rid of his jacket and sat up to take off his shoulder holster. God, she’d never wanted anyone like this. She couldn’t help slipping her hands under his t-shirt as he stretched to take it off, feeling the hard muscles shifting and rippling on his stomach. Then, impatiently, he tore at his shirt, the buttons popping off and falling like rain. He yanked it off. One of the bandages wrapped around his forearms was coming undone.

Holy mother of god, she’d never get tired of seeing him bare-chested. And this time she was allowed to touch. As he leaned over her, her fingers skimmed the solid planes of his flanks up to the swell of his pectorals and his padded shoulders. In one swift movement, she reached up and tore the bandana off his head. His hair spilled forward, catching the colorful lights from outside the window.

They hadn’t checked the apartment, or locked the door.

She didn’t give a flying fuck. She’d die happy. Probably wouldn’t even notice.

“Please...” Finn’s fingers trailed down her throat to the v-line of her blouse. “Can I...?”

Can you what, she thought, dizzy with desire, but nodded anyway.

He jerked the hemline, tearing the blouse like thin rice paper. She yelped. He grinned, teeth flashing. His eyes darkened, pupils dilating, staring down at her black bra, the swell of her breasts above it.

Shit, she couldn’t believe this was happening, at last. She touched his face — so cat-like, and his face with the wide-set eyes, the small mouth. She traced the black patterns on his ears.

“Your tattoos,” she whispered.

“Majority marks,” he said, a hand trailing up the strap of her bra. “Can I... can you...?” He tugged at the strap, his body shifting against her, his arousal unmistakable. “Will you...?”

Another tug and the strap broke.

He was going to tear off all her clothes, and he was still dressed. Unacceptable. She took his hand in hers. “Pants. Off.”

He blinked, cheeks flushed, chest heaving. Casting one longing look at her slipping bra, he sat up and pushed down his pants, leaving only his briefs. Black, hugging his narrow hips, stretched tight over his hard-on.

Could one self-combust with desire?

Impatiently, she pushed down her pants, reached up to undo the clasp of her bra, and his hands were there, touching hers, pulling off the black material, freeing her breasts.

He bent his head and growled deep in his throat. Pale patterns sparkled on his cheeks, his throat, his shoulders, pearly tattoos that writhed and faded.

His body pressed down on hers, sending jolts of excitement through her. She pushed up against him and he raised his head, his eyes slits of midnight blue. He was panting as if he’d been running a marathon. He cupped one breast, his callused hand shaking, and pleasure coursed down her spine. She wrapped her legs around his hips and he quivered and bucked.

“Hell,” Finn whispered, desperation in his voice, and slipped a finger into her underwear, tearing it at the seams. She cried out, the material stinging her skin, and before she could gulp in breath, the other side received the same treatment, and he was pulling the ruined cloth off her, leaving her naked.

“We need...” Oh Christ, think, think! “Condoms.”

“...what?” Finn’s jaw was clenched tight, his arms trembling on either side of her, his pulse jumping at the base of his throat.

She fished at the side of the sofa, encountering her backpack, and dipped her hand inside. She was sure she still had a package from the time she’d dated Simon...

“Ella?” Finn grated, his whole body shaking with tension.

She opened the package, managing not to drop it but barely, and brandished a condom at him. He didn’t seem to understand; seemed to take the gesture as a command to undress. He shimmied out of his briefs and then was pressed, hot and hard, against her.

Swallowing a groan of pure need, she forced herself to shove him back, a hand planted on his chest. “Put this on first. Protection,” she said when Finn blinked at the foil. She ripped it open and demonstrated how it should be worn.

He’d had a girlfriend before coming to the city, hadn’t he?

Eyes glazed, Finn drew back and clumsily pulled the condom on. A moan caught in Ella’s throat at the sight of him. God, his every inch was gorgeous, and then he glanced up at her, licking his lips, and thrust forward—

Oh my fucking god. Dimly she was aware of her spine bowing, of Finn gasping, of her hips rising to meet him, of his hands gripping her legs... Sparks danced on her skin, molten lava churned inside her.

This felt right, this felt... Hot damn. Finn shifted and she caught his shoulders and pulled him down. He kissed her, moaning in her mouth, rubbing against her, silky skin over steel-corded flesh.

She drew back to breathe and he moved faster inside her, eyes closing, his frame shaking. Ella arched up, breath catching in her throat—

Her body exploded into a million stars, shooting across the sky.

Chapter Eight

As One

The hill was steep and snow lingered in crevices and around black stones even though most of it had melted. It was a Summer, Ella knew. A mild year.

Chanting came from the hilltop. Voices.

The boy next to her paused in his climbing, face scrunched up in a grimace. He slid down a few feet, eyes widening in alarm — she reached out for him, or tried to.

But she couldn’t move. She could climb and follow him, but couldn’t touch him. Why? Still, he glanced up and his eyes found her. A faint smile broke on his face. It was like a sunrise, so beautiful.

Finn... She exhaled the sounds but nothing issued from her mouth.

He pushed himself up, small hands finding purchase on rocks that looked smooth as glass, and dragged himself upward. One of his legs trembled when he planted his foot in a crevice; thinner than the other leg, it was the one he’d broken only a year back.

The boy scrabbled up the rocks, his breathing harsh, his fingers and hands bleeding, leaving streaks of red on the stones.

Where are you going? she wanted to shout. She glanced up at the hilltop. Something bad waited there, she could feel it in her bones, and she didn’t want him going up to meet it.

Only she couldn’t talk to him, touch him, stop him. Following him up the slope, she felt fear clench her chest. Lightly she climbed, as if her body had no weight, drifting like a cloud across his dream. There was no danger in it for her.

She feared for him.

The top loomed closer now, tall figures cutting the morning sky. Priests, wearing their high-crested hats, stood in a circle and elves knelt on the frozen ground, two fingers touching their foreheads. Dressed in light blue, they seemed like a reflection of the sky.

A stone table stood in their center, dark slabs of polished rock, and on top lay a woman in a white dress with long, silvery hair in braids arranged on either side of her head. She seemed to be asleep, only the grief-stricken faces of those around her told otherwise.

A funeral?

Light rippled over the woman’s body, reflections and dazzles — glass? She was encased in a transparent box. The chanting rose in pitch, and the priests lifted their long hands, tracing symbols on the clean air.

Colors flickered on the glass box, seemed to melt it, molding it to the woman’s face and body, a crystal casing, entombing her inside.

“No!” The boy stepped out of his hiding place and threw himself at the dead woman, bloody fingers leaving trails on the shimmering glass.

His mother.

Ella hurried to stand next to him. She wanted to hug his heaving shoulders, rub his back, tell him he wasn’t alone — but her hand wouldn’t lift from her side.

Then a priest moved, striding across the platform, and grabbed the boy by the scruff of his dirty coat, lifting him off his feet. The boy kicked and yelled and slapped the priest’s arms but the priest merely looked down at him, eyes narrowed.

“You’re not one of us,” he growled, the sounds oddly distorted and somehow musical, yet perfectly clear. “Never come back.”

Ella knew what would happen before it did. She ran to the priest, reached out for his white robes. Stop, don’t do this, stop it, she tried to shout, but not even a sob left her throat.

The priest flung the boy down the slope.

The world tumbling, turning, brilliant flashes of pain—

Gasping, she opened her eyes. Finn’s arms tightened around her, pinning her to his chest and she could hear his heartbeat racing, hear his labored breathing—

“It’s okay, Finn.” Her voice rasped in her throat as if she’d been screaming. “Everything’s okay.” Her eyes closed and she fell back into the dream.

— the slope evened out and the boy rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky. She had already reached his side somehow, as if she’d drifted down the hill like a feather. The boy’s hitching breaths filled the cold air and tears streaked his dirty cheeks.

And she couldn’t even touch him to wipe them off.

***

Ella came awake with a start. The doorbell was ringing. She glanced blearily around and found she was stretched out on the sofa, with Finn... Finn lying alongside her, a heavy leg thrown over one of hers, a muscled arm, lying limp across her middle. His soft breathing tickled her ear and his cheeks...

His cheeks were wet.

Swallowing past a lump in her throat, she reached up, touching her fingertips to the moisture.

Finn sighed, his damp lashes dark against the high cheekbones.

Flashes from the dream returned. A slope. A blue sky. A fall. Not one of us.

Then the damn doorbell rang again, breaking the images, and she strained against Finn’s hold to get out of bed...

The sofa.

She was on the sofa, butt naked, and so was Finn, the parts of his anatomy she could see lithe and gorgeous, offered in full color, three dimensional display.

Sex with Finn.

Cuddling with Finn.

Just... Whoa.

Someone rapped vigorously on the door. Jeez, wasn’t it still early? She tried to pry Finn’s arm off her waist. He tightened his hold and opened his eyes, frowning.

“Let go, Finn. I need to get up.” She tangled her fingers with his and he relaxed enough that she managed to slip from under his arm and stand up.

Grabbing her blouse from the floor, she groaned. Ripped. So were her slip and her bra. She looked through the peephole.

Mike.

“One moment!” she called, jogging to her bedroom and pulling on a t-shirt and jeans. The apartment looked like the wake of a hurricane. She glanced into Finn’s room on the way back to the living room. Dave’s crew had removed the bodies of the wolves and scrubbed the floors, but blood had seeped into every dip and scratch, staining the linoleum.

Finn was stirring on the sofa, solid muscles rippling beneath marble-white skin. God, putting clothes on that body was a damn shame, but she threw him his shirt and pants nevertheless. “Mike’s here.”

Finn scowled and stood to dress. Ella paused, a hand on the door, staring. Holy shit. She fanned herself, her face on fire; considered pinching herself, in case she was dreaming — but why ruin a good fantasy?

Another knock jarred her back to reality. “Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, unable to tear her eyes off Finn who had pulled on his shirt, sans buttons, and was hunting his socks and boots.

“Took you some time.” Mike gave her a once over. “Are you all right? I’ve been ringing for so long I was about to call your boss to break down your door.”

Hell. “Glad you didn’t. Why didn’t you call me?”

“You kidding me? I tried a thousand times. Your phone’s off.”

“Is it?” She walked distractedly to the couch and fished it out of her backpack. She did her best not to look at Finn who stood, arms folded over his half-naked chest.

Mike was right. When had she turned her phone off? She only had a memory of kissing in the elevator, of limbs tangling as they fell on the sofa, of her backpack falling to the ground.

More memories trickled back. The wolves. The Shades. Her family tree. John Grey and Sirurd’s daughter.

“Well, well.” Mike was staring at something on the floor. “I see you two are getting along like a house on fire.”

She followed his gaze — to the used condom. Something dark was draped over the sofa armrest — Finn’s briefs. Finn stood aside, hair tousled, shirt open.

Heat climbed her neck.

Mike was grinning, through, and his eyes looked happy. “It was about time,” he muttered. “You were either going to screw or kill each other.”

“Was there a reason you wanted to see me?” Ella grumbled. The clock on the wall said seven in the morning and she needed a shower, urgently, and to have a look at the book before signing in to work. Dave might have read it, but they said every book changed with its reader. Maybe Simon had found something in it that Dave hadn’t noticed, and more clues might be waiting for her as well. “It’d better be good.”

“It’s good, trust me,” Mike said, his face turning grim. “I saw something huge flying outside. Something that looked like a snake with many heads and wings. I thought you might know something about it.”

***

Clutching her gun, Ella stepped out and shaded her eyes from the sunlight reflecting on fluffy clouds. “Can’t see a damn thing.” In the haze, the old brick buildings lining the street, stacked together seamlessly like books on a shelf, took on a rosy hue. “Are you sure you saw a snake?”

“Are you accusing me of having imagination?” Mike muttered, a corner of his mouth quirking. “Of course I saw it.”

“You’d better not be kidding.” Her arm ached and the bandage felt loose and wet. Ow. “I’ll inform HQ.”

Flipping her phone open, hitting the speed dial, she looked up and caught Finn’s expression. He was smiling.

Turbo butterflies somersaulted inside her stomach as the memories hit and... Goddammit. She’d told Finn she loved him.

Maybe he didn’t remember. Maybe he hadn’t heard. He certainly hadn’t replied. She gripped the phone harder. It was just sex. Great sex, granted, but that didn’t mean Finn felt anything...

“Ella, is that you?” From Dave’s exasperated tone, she’d say he’d asked the question a number of times already.

Focus, Ella. “Yep, it’s me. Flying snake reported in my neighborhood. Looks like it’s heading toward the docks.”

“Roger that. Stay put, I may need you there.” Dave cleared his throat. “An awful lot is happening in your neighborhood these days.”

“Yeah, aren’t I lucky?” she bit off. “Talk to you later, boss.”

“You’d better,” he said and hung up.

What the hell was that supposed to mean? He was the one with the secret agenda.

Finn’s expression had blanked; he had a hand on his gun, eyes flicking around as if expecting an attack from every side.

Maybe he was right to be worried.

“Mike, did you notice anything else — any other animal, or Shades?” Ella asked, holstering her gun and turning toward him.

He looked haggard, she noticed, dark circles around his eyes and stubble on his cheeks. She tried to jolt her mind into coherent thought — hard task when her thoughts kept returning to Finn, his body, his face, his hands — and frowned.

“Is Scott...?”

“He’s still in hospital,” Mike said. “Doctors said he’s gonna be okay but they’re keeping him for observation for a while longer. He...” A shiver. “He has nightmares.”

Oh man, welcome to the club. Ella clucked her tongue. “I guess he’ll need a lot of cuddling.” As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. “I don’t mean to downplay what you and he went through.”

“I know,” Mike said. “But, hey, I think you’re right. Cuddling. And so on.” He winked.

She stared. She hadn’t meant it that way, but it seemed to lift some of the gloom off Mike, and hell, why not?

Maybe that was the reason why Finn looked a fraction easier in his skin this morning, his shoulders more relaxed.

Christ, heat went up her neck again. It was just a tumble between the sheets, goddammit, not a promise for anything more.

There you go again, Ella... One might think you want more, and here’s how your world looks right now: Huge snakes flying across the sky, and dragons and scaly wolves lurking around corners, the Shades pouring from every tiny crack in the Veil, and Finn...

Finn was a whole brand-new can of worms.

“I need tea,” she announced to the world in general. “Before the flying beauty returns.”

***

“Ella.” Mike caught her arm as they entered the building, his youthful face serious and drawn with fatigue. A scratch ran down his cheek, crusted with blood. Probably hadn’t slept a wink in two days.

“I’m sorry,” Ella whispered. “I should have visited at the hospital. I can’t seem to catch my breath these days.” Torn between the wolves, the Shades, and Finn.

He shook his head and gave a rueful smile. “After that last attack in your apartment, I wish I had been there for you. I hope things were quiet afterward.”

Quiet. A relative term. “Yeah.”

“Listen, I’ve been meaning to say this for the past week.” Mike licked his lips, glanced over his shoulder at Finn who stood by the elevator, arms crossed, studying the grain in the dirty wall. “If anything happens...”

“What are you talking about?” Fear froze her insides. “Nothing will happen, Mike.”

“But if...” He lowered his voice. “If they do get Finn and you need help, I think we should think of what to do. Unless the Shades grab him, in which case he’s a lost cause, but if your boss finds out, or the army, then—”

“Mike.” Ella tipped a nod toward Finn. “You do know he can hear every single word we speak, right?”

Finn lifted a brow and grinned. Damn sneak.

Mike paled. “Oh. Really? I hadn’t realized.” He shot Finn a nervous smile. “Well, then.” He swallowed. “I’m sure he agrees a contingency plan is needed, right?”

Finn was observing them, eyes narrowed. He glanced to Ella and shrugged. Finn-ese for “Why not” or “What is he on about”?

“Sure. Got any ideas?” Ella scratched at the loose bandage under her blouse. It itched and she didn’t know if it was a good or bad sign — the smarting of knitting flesh or the tingling of infection? “If Dave turns out to be a Guardian after all and—”

“Dave?” Mike’s dark eyes bugged out. “I thought the Guardian was Simon?”

Oh damn. Urgent updating needed. “The situation has changed,” she muttered, tugging on her sleeve, teasing at the seam. “Dave seems to be the one to worry about.”

“Fuck,” Mike whispered and Ella couldn’t agree more.

“Yeah.”

“And if it’s true... If he knows you know...”

“What will he do, kill me?” Ella shivered. “He has no reason to. Nobody would believe me anyway.”

As if suddenly feeling the cold, too, Mike zipped up his leather jacket. “We need a special code, in case we are separated and can’t communicate.”

Ella suppressed a sigh. Mike, she decided, had been watching too many spy movies. “Like?”

“Like, if you’re on the run and you need help. We need a way for you to let me know where you are, without anyone else knowing.”

Finn’s head dipped forward; listening or thinking. “We leave messages by piling stones,” he said, his deep voice echoing in the empty entrance hall.

She could see it — dark stones on the snow, forming symbols. Had she seen that in a dream?

“That’s it, we could do something like it.” Mike’s voice rose in excitement. “If needed, you can leave me a message—”

“I could throw stones at your head,” Ella muttered.

Finn snorted.

“Forget it,” Ella said firmly. “It won’t be necessary. Nothing will happen.”

“I hope so.” The light in his eyes went out. “You’re family to me, Ella. If anything happens to you...” He shook his head.

Awh. There, her warm fuzzy of the day. “Thanks, Mike. It means a lot to me.”

Mike tsked and pushed back his shoulders. “Good, because it’s the truth. Now, how about some breakfast? I’m inviting.”

***

Ella could see why Mike insisted on breakfast at his place. Inside her apartment, she righted a chair she didn’t remember pushing over and looked around the messy living room. The stench of old blood lingered, mixed with Finn’s musk.

Leaving her gun on the coffee table, she headed to the shower, questions tumbling over and over in her mind. Why was she seeing Finn’s dreams so clearly now? Why couldn’t she touch and talk to him in the dreams? Had she ever been able to before?

She stripped and removed the bandage, giving the wound on her arm a cursory glance and shuddering. Damn wolf had tried to sever her arm. Bastard.

She left the butterfly bandages on — water-resistant, the package had read — and stood under the hot spray, letting it beat on the knots behind her neck as questions buzzed inside her skull.

What was the connection between the stabilizing ability Dave’s notes mentioned and sharing Finn’s dreams? And why Finn? Across the Veil, from the millions living in either world, why him?

That cold feeling again in the pit of her stomach, telling her something bad was lying in wait, and like in the dreams there was nothing she could do to prevent it.

Not one of us...

The bathroom door creaked and whined. Gasping, heart booming, she reached down for her gun, then remembered she was naked. She clenched her fingers into a fist as she pushed the shower stall door open—

Finn.

He straightened, a pile of knives at his feet, and turned toward her. His eyes widened. A breath of cool air rushed into the shower stall, then he was there, right in front of her, his gaze raking her body, sliding like warm honey over her breasts.

Without thinking, she took a step forward, fingers unfolding to touch his face. His lips tilted in a smile that took her breath away, and a brow lifted in question.

She closed the gap and rose on tiptoe to kiss his lips, throwing her arms around his neck, drenching him. His ripped shirt molded to his muscled chest, growing transparent, outlining every dip and bulge.

Mmm... Who needed breakfast if she could taste Finn?

He nipped at her mouth, his eyes closing, pressing their bodies together. She tugged on him, drawing him under the water. He laughed, a rich, bronze sound, and resisted just long enough to pull off his shirt, tearing it to shreds in the process. He struggled to get out of his wet pants, and she heard another ripping sound.

Finn glanced up, scowling, stepping out of the ruined cloth.

A breathless snort bubbled from her lips. He was so cute, glaring as if the pants had insulted him. His pulse throbbed at his jaw. He looked nervous, and that made her smile.

Finn stepped forward, gaze zeroing on her mouth, and placed those strong hands on her waist. Aware of his strength, keeping the grip easy and loose, nudging her back under the water, following her. She tangled her hands in his hair, drawing him closer, wanting to feel his slick skin rubbing against her. He pushed her back against the tiled wall, hands sliding over her, touching her everywhere, causing ripples of pleasure, drawing moans from her throat. His breath washed on her arched throat, and she shivered when he placed open-mouthed kisses on her shoulder.

“Please...” she whispered, wondering dimly how it was possible to want him so much she burned with it, even more than before, her body leaping under his touch.

Grunting softly, he pulled back, his eyes glazed. God, he was so heart-wrenchingly handsome, and she reached up to stroke the dark tips of his ears.  The fine, shining lines played again on his skin, so that he practically glowed as he stood under the spray, like a sculpture made of crystal.

So different. So perfect.

He dipped his face, seeking again her mouth, his hands brushing down her thighs and lifting her legs. She wrapped them around his hips, and he raised his hooded gaze, asking, requesting...

She shifted and he gasped, jerking a little. Rational thought tried to surface through the pleasure. “Can’t,” she whispered. “No protection.” But she wanted him, wanted to feel him.

“Only touching,” he murmured.

He demonstrated and, oh dear god, he really had... talented...fingers. They stroked and teased, rough and slick, strong and then gentle, robbing her of coherent thought.

Blindly she reached down. She wrapped her fingers around him, and he faltered, groaning. Hot and hard, silk and steel sliding in her hold. He rocked in her hand, eyes closing, and she moved against him. The shower stall broke into a giant wave of pleasure, engulfing her, pulling her under. She was falling into darkness.

Dipping his mouth to her shoulder, Finn bit lightly into her flesh, his whole body convulsing. His heart boomed against her. She pressed her leg around his thigh, tightened her hold on him, and Finn jerked, head falling back, and slammed a hand into the wall.

Pleasure rolled up her body like a hot current. The world crashed, exploding without a sound, dissolving into colorful sparkles.

Dimly she was aware of her stunned cry bouncing off the walls, and Finn’s strangled moan.

“Oh shit.” Her knees buckled and she slid down the tiled wall, pulling him down with her, the warm water beating down on their bodies, sluicing into her open mouth. He knelt opposite her, head bowed, panting.

“Ella...” He touched two fingers to his chest.

“What does that mean?” She covered his hand with hers, feeling his rapid heartbeat through his fingers.

“Together,” he whispered. “As one.”

As one. She put hers arms around him, pressed their foreheads together, and didn’t think she could let go if she tried.

Chapter Nine

Starburst

“We managed to bring the flying snake down,” Dave said, his voice a low growl that raised the fine hairs on her arms. “We posted snipers, and the army had troops with Stinger missiles lining the beast’s path.” He clucked his tongue. “Goddamned elves won’t take us so easily.”

She sure hoped so. “Good news, then.”

“I’m compiling a list of the places where Gates opened, fully or half formed, and where the Veil is being torn. Maybe this will give us a clue.”

“Do that,” she said distractedly. Finn was doing sit-ups in the living room, dressed only in sweatpants and miles of satiny skin wrapped over hard muscles and sinewy limbs. He’d actually tied his pale hair back and he looked ridiculously cute with his ears poking out like that... And ridiculously hot.

“So what do you say?” Dave barked into the phone, startling her.

“Yeah, fine, I guess,” she muttered and hung up, not a clue what Dave was talking about.

Dazed, she leaned on the doorjamb, watching as Finn fell back, panting, sunlight pouring from the window, drenching him in liquid gold and silver. He flicked her a smile as he sat up, turning her heart into mush, then his face hardened again into focus and he started a series of push-ups. Muscles strained and bulged in his bare arms, carving the planes of his chest in sharp relief, cording the tendons in his neck and shoulders.

Ella dropped onto the couch, almost missing it, and pulled her backpack toward her. She fished out the book and curled against the cushions, flipping pages without looking. Finn was now doing something complicated which involved going down on one knee, then stretching, turning at the waist and punching the air, then starting again.

Ella looked down at the text. She wasn’t a fangirl with a crush — she could ignore Finn and read, dammit. The whole world was going down in flames, and there had to be a clue she was missing. Dave said there was a trail of Gates...

Movement caught her eye, and helplessly she glanced up again. Finn stood balanced on one leg, lifting the other, a look of intense concentration on his face, brows drawn and mouth pressed thin.

She tugged at her neckline, too warm, and his eyes flicked her way — one tiny moment of distraction — and Finn wobbled and staggered.

Alarmed, she shot up to catch him.

Finn lifted a hand and chuckled softly, straightening. “I’m okay,” he said, his deep voice sending thrills through her, bringing back images from the shower and filling her veins with molten lava.

Man, so this was what a volcano felt like.

Wiping an arm over his face, he wandered to the sofa, his bare feet silent on the floor. “Is that the book?”

She nodded, putting it down. Who cared about the damn book when Finn was sliding next to her on the couch, his gaze caressing her face like sunlight?

“You’re sweaty,” she heard herself say even as she reached for him and touched his cheek. “You need another shower.”

“With you?” he whispered and desire coiled, heavy, in her belly. It was tempting. God, so very tempting. She couldn’t stop stroking him, his hair, his neck, his back.

“I should read this book. I’m looking for clues.”

He leaned closer. “Clues?”

Hm? She realized she’d been staring at his mouth and blinked. She looked down. “There are some passages about John Grey, and I need to reread them. I mean, all this,” she shook the book at him, “it’s all elvish propaganda, isn’t it? All this talk of the Dark elves, so evil and good for nothing. Damn useless saga. It’s supposed to be about John Grey—”

He covered her mouth with his fingers, stopping the words. “Quiet,” he whispered, and replaced his fingers with his lips. Sweet god, every kiss tasted better, felt better than the last one.

Finn pulled back, lips curving in a smile, and regarded her with a smug expression. “Now you can talk again.”

“...What?” Talk? Who needed talking? Or breathing, for that matter?

Grinning, he lifted the book that had fallen to the floor and placed it back in her hands. “I haven’t finished my exercises.” He winked as he stood up. “And then shower.”

Laughing outright, she opened the damn book again. “Tease.”

This relaxed, joking Finn was a revelation. Together. As one. Was that just teasing, too?

Turning her back to Finn, because no reading would be forthcoming otherwise, she bent over the book, a smile tugging at her lips. The text rambled on about the danger from the Dark elves and the Guardians, who hunted for John Grey.

“If John Grey was a young fellow in the Middle ages, he must be an old man by now,” she said, flipping the page.

Finn grunted something, small thumps telling her he was in the middle of another exercise.

“Beware of John Grey,” she muttered. “Yeah, and how? How is it possible that the elves don’t know who John Grey is?”

“Our records were lost in the war,” Finn said.

Right. When the Dark elves chucked their Lighter siblings to the frozen surface of the world with a sayonara and a wink.

“That sucks,” she said and read on.

Aha. Another mention of John Grey. The elves explained he needed a steady presence at his side, and went on to exhort the beauty and wisdom of Sirurd’s daughter who was to be his bride. Beauty and wisdom. Going out on a limb, those hadn’t been the criteria for her selection. Asa was her name. A skilled seamstress.

Ella stroked a fingertip over the word. If Asa was her ancestor, she certainly hadn’t passed any of that wisdom and sewing skills to her.

But what else have you passed on?

The elves mentioned Asa’s mother, cryptically saying they were sure she’d be pleased to know of her daughter’s fortune. And why wasn’t the mother with them at the banquet? Women weren’t given much of a vote in anything, but the queen at least would be present at such an event, wouldn’t she?

Well, Sirurd didn’t seem inclined to explain. He thanked the elves and said his wife would receive the tidings in her high tower.

What the hell was she doing locked up in a tower?

The elves inquired about the health of Sirurd’s spouse, and he responded she was the same as when they had returned her all those years back. ‘Living in a dream,’ Sirurd said and commanded everyone to eat and drink and have a good time.

Returned her. From where? If the elves had her... Sirurd’s daughter was no changeling. But it sounded like her mother maybe was.

“Finn, I think your theory about Sirurd’s daughter was right.” She turned to face him. He was stretching his legs and froze in the middle it.

“Changeling?”

“Her mother.” Ella rubbed a fingertip over her lower lip. “Any idea what kind of abilities the elves hoped to get with their experiments?”

Finn shook his head. An ash-blond strand escaped its tie and stuck to his face. “Magic.”

“Right, right. But what sorts of magic are there? Anything about stabilizing abilities?”

He straightened, tucked the stray strand behind one black-tipped ear. “Magic is about affecting forces. Pushing, pulling, or meshing them in different ways.” His eyes went distant and a furrow formed between his brows. “In some it’s stronger than in others; in some it’s more of a physical force, in others it has to do with the mind.”

Vague. All encompassing. “Maybe magic works differently on humans.”

Finn shrugged, shoulders slumping. “Perhaps.” His lack of magic had made him an outcast, had almost cost him his life. Damned elves and their damn magic.

And no progress yet in her search for clues. Somewhere, somehow, she’d missed a vital piece of information.

That, or the Gates, the Shades, the little bits and pieces of knowledge she had — her family origins, Finn’s dreams, Simon’s book, Dave’s mysterious nature, none of it made sense, and that was the most frightening thing of all. The total lack of a pattern.

Except everything seemed centered on her city, her neighborhood. Was it her? Was she doing something without knowing?

She returned to the book, chewing on her lip, skimming down the pages. Not much about John Grey, but it did sound like he’d had a difficult childhood. Many deaths in his family, and recurring nightmares at night.

Poor guy. She could totally sympathize.

The elves said his only remaining family accompanied him. A sister, apparently, and a couple of young cousins. Also his pets and his favorite servants. How considerate and how very suspicious. Ella decided she didn’t trust the blasted creatures at all.

Dancing followed, with some of the songs transcribed in the text. Joy. Heh, it looked like John Grey couldn’t dance. She could relate. Not much for rhythm. Oh wait. He had a problem with his leg. Apparently it had been broken once and hadn’t healed well.

In other news, his magic thrived on pain, the elves cheerfully explained, and they’d make sure his magic stayed strong.

How was that for a veiled way of saying they’d hurt him?

Ella shivered. He sounded like a very sad fellow, this John Grey. Was he a Dark elf? No mention of wings anywhere, but that didn’t mean anything.

Though, if he was, it meant she might have winged children one day.

Shit.

Now Sirurd was asking about John Grey’s peculiar name. Right, because Sirurd was such a common Norse name and all... Interested in spite of the worry nibbling at her concentration, she skimmed the elves’ evasions and supposedly wise sayings, hoping they’d answer the damn question.

They did. John Grey — or it’s Norse equivalent — wasn’t really the guy’s name. Huh, go figure. All this hubbub and infamousness when it wasn’t what he was called in real life. It was simply a designation of his peculiar magic, the elves explained in their usual high-brow and damn annoying manner, a magic which had to do with the Grey. His real name was based on the birthmark which designated his nature.

“Finn...” He had a birthmark his shoulder. In fact, she could see it now as he straightened from a floor exercise.

He looked up.

“I didn’t know your birthmarks represented your type of magic. Is it common for Light elves to name yourselves that way?” She frowned. “And why do you have one if you don’t have magic?”

He glanced at his shoulder, where the dark starburst stained his pale skin, and swallowed. “This mark wasn’t in the priests’ books.”

“Then what does your name mean?” She remembered the elven lady in the Gate calling him. “Isthelfinn.”

He winced. So that really was his name.

“What does it stand for?” she whispered, watching as pain, then anger rolled over his face. “Nothing good, I’m guessing.”

“It means ‘not real’,” he muttered through gritting teeth.

Ella gaped at him, rage rising inside her like a hot tide, until her hands curled into fists and her heart boomed. Bastard elves. Heartless motherfuckers.

If she got her hands on them, she’d kill them.

Very painfully.

***

John Grey’s real name was based on the birthmark on his arm which looked like a flower. His name meant ‘bridge’. Which made perfect sense if you knew his ability to open Gates.

Whereas Finn’s real name... Not real. Shit. She rubbed her eyes, fury still rolling through her in great, burning waves, as Finn left the room, his footsteps silent as a cat’s.

A flower. A starburst. Spirals and darkness roiling in a vortex.

Her phone rang, jolting her upright. Almost ripping her backpack in the process, she dug the damn thing out. “Yeah?”

“Ella, it’s Dave.”

Gee, really? How unexpected. “Do you need us to come in?”

“Stay put. It seems that snake wasn’t the only animal that crossed over.”

Oh shit. “Wolves? Dragons?”

Dave grunted into the phone. “Possibly.”

Ella sighed and sank back into the couch, dragging a cushion behind her back. “Any progress with the trail of the Gates?”

“Not sure.” A humming filled the connection. Dave was stressed. Maybe he wasn’t a Guardian after all. She’d found no evidence whatsoever he was one, and she’d been close to him in times of great fear. Altered states. Had never seen any spirals inside him. And he stressed a lot. Maybe he was too human for his own good.

“Give me what you got.” She picked at the corner of the book distractedly, sounds from the shower reaching her ears.

“We have a fully formed one reported near the Stevenson Library.”

The library where she’d gotten the book? “What else?”

“The others are clustered in your neighborhood, making you the only constant we have. What do you make of that?”

Ella thought of the Gates flickering and fading, the woman looking like Finn’s mother floating in them, and her stomach clenched. “I’ve always attracted trouble.” And his name is currently Finn.

“The half-formed Gates, though...” He tsked. “They don’t seem to have any pattern. They’re spread around the city.”

“Where?”

“Well, there was one in Bentley Park. That’s right behind Harlem Avenue, corner with—”

“—Remy Street?”

“You know it?”

Ella swallowed her reply. That was where Finn had called her from, where she’d found him and brought him home with her. “Anywhere else?”

“A mall near the stadium.”

Dammit, that was where Finn used to live. “What else?”

“Apart from the ones in your neighborhood, we have two more locations. One near the Warf 2 and another in the suburb, at a gas station.”

Ella sat, the book slipping from her numb fingers. The Wharf. Finn said he’d been there before, hadn’t he?

There was a constant alright. Finn. He’d been at the places where the fully operational Gates had formed as well. The Stevenson Library. He’d waited in the car for her when she’d gone to look for the book. Had he been at that gas station out of town? She’d have to ask Finn.

Somehow she was certain he had.

She felt sick.

“Ella? You are telling me everything, right? Can I count on you?”

“Yeah, Dave. You can count on me.” She forced her mouth to keep talking. “I’ll look into this and let you know. And you keep me posted if you find out anything else, right? We’ll be on stand by and ready to go if you call us.”

God dammit, Finn.

She flipped the phone closed and placed it on the coffee table, feeling as if her hands belonged to someone else. Picking up the book, she ran a trembling finger down the page talking about John Grey.

Come on, book, give me something I can work with.

John Grey had lived an isolated life, due to his special ability. Although he came from one of the royal houses, he didn’t participate in the ceremonies and usual activities.

Royal houses?

Finn chose that moment to walk into the living room, in black pants and white shirt. Her heart stammered at the sight of him, torn between joy and fear.

“Finn.” Her voice was barely a breath, and she forced more air in her lungs. “Finn. Didn’t you say you come from a royal house?”

“Yes.” He licked his lips. “Why?”

She forced a smile, her head pounding. “Just wondering.”

God, this couldn’t be right. John Grey wasn’t a Light elf. No, she was seeing a pattern where there was none. The Light elves had stated John Grey wasn’t one of them. Even Dave had said so.

Finn wandered away and sounds reached her from the kitchen. He was putting water to boil, presumably to make tea and coffee. Every sound made her jump. Holy shit.

She flipped the pages until she found the passage. There. See? ‘Not one of us,’ the elves said. ‘A John Grey belongs nowhere.’

A John Grey. She gripped the book, her breath quickening. What, there were more than one of them?

Images from Finn’s dream, the hilltop. ‘Not one of us,’ the priest had said. Because... Because Finn had no magic. Rejected. An outcast.

A John Grey belongs nowhere.

Oh my god. John Grey was a Light elf. An elf living apart from the others, not because he had no abilities but because he’d been gifted with an unusual magic.

Opening Gates. Jesus. Her stomach churned, sending bile up her throat. Dammit, Finn.

She’d given her heart to the one person about to destroy her world.

***

Ella stared out of her bedroom window. Air hissed through a crack. Outside, down in the street, the wind lashed the trees and bowed them to its passage, and overhead dark clouds sailed.

Her mind was empty of thought and full of echoes. A flower. A starburst. A bridge. Not real. Finn.

She splayed her fingers on the icy glass. Oh Christ.

A shuffle made her turn around.

“Hey.” Finn stood at her door, brows drawn together. “I made tea.”

She shook her head. His hair had dried; it framed his face in silver. His eyes were somber with concern. He looked so good; he’d felt so good in her arms, in her life.

Strange you saw what you’d been missing when you knew what to look for. All the clues had been there.

Apparently all Boreals, the royalty, were born with the gift of magic. Touching the energy, they called it. But once in a while, a child was born with no such magic, marked with a strange birthmark. Though the seeming lack of magic was deceptive. The child had a different kind of magic — that of opening. That child was a John Grey.

A John Grey was unique. But as soon as he died, another would be born to take his place. Not an old man, living through time. A young man.

Finn.

She turned back to the window, feeling so cold she might shatter at a mere touch. How would Dave react to the news? Yeah, boss, my partner is not only a Boreal but he is the one who’s been opening Gates. Please don’t hurt him. As you know, he swore he won’t work for the other side; that he’ll fight with us.

That would go down beautifully, she could just see it.

And that wasn’t the worst part.

“Ella?”

She turned her head. Finn had stepped into the room, worry etching lines on his forehead. Her partner, sullen and quiet as he was, unbeatable in a fight, loyal and kind.

Her lover.

She just stared at him. He’d been there all that time as they’d puzzled over the Gates, the stories, everything. Right there by her side, fighting with her, fighting against fate.

A John Grey.

“What is it?” Finn asked, his voice low and careful.

Unable to bear it anymore, she started to pace. So many questions she had to ask. Such a mess this was going to be. “What town did you say you worked at before coming here?”

“Blackwater.” He swallowed hard, his gaze darting to the door. “Why?”

Damn, the gas station Dave had mentioned was on that road. “You said you’ve been to Warf 2 before we found the snake there?”

He gave her a piercing look. “I slept there once.”

“When you first arrived to the city.”

He nodded.

Damn, damn, damn! Add to that the places she’d met him the first couple of times Dave didn’t know about, and...

Why had only a few of the Gates worked? What was different about those times?

“What’s going on?” Finn asked, each word vibrating. His hands had clenched into fists against his thighs.

There had to be a pattern there, too, subtle clues she was not seeing.

At the library, she’d left Finn in the car, half asleep, before the wolves came through. At her apartment, before the dragon attacked, he’d been asleep. When the stone-plated dragon passed through, she’d left Finn asleep on the couch. Before the last wolf attack, they’d both been asleep, and now, before the flying snake was seen, and the other animals Dave mentioned...

Heat crept up her neck. Yeah, they’d been asleep, together, on the couch.

Did sleep have something to do with it?

Shit.

Footfalls behind her. She spun around, took a step back. Finn approached, eyes wary, a hand lifting as if to touch her, then falling back to his side.

She didn’t think she could say the words, but they came out in a rush. “You’re John Grey.”

Finn’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“You can’t sleep anymore,” she blurted. Oh yeah, that made perfect sense.

“What?”

“You’re opening Gates, Finn. Maybe it’s your nightmares.” Oh good lord, he’d dreamed of the flying snake before it had appeared, hadn’t he? Why hadn’t she seen this? “I don’t know how it works. But wherever you’ve been, Gates have opened. Most aren’t complete. But lately they’re operational, letting the animals through, and soon...” The elves.

“No,” Finn whispered, his eyes huge in his pale face, splotches of red on his cheekbones.

“I’m sorry.” Such a useless thing to say.

He took a step back. “No,” he said again and turning around, left the room.

***

What was the usual course of action when you’d just told a person — a person you loved — that they’re the monster they’d been fighting all along? When you’d seen the hope in their eyes go out and don’t know how to bring it back?

She found Finn standing by the window in the living room, forehead pressed to the cool glass.

Neither spoke for a few minutes.

“Are you sure?” Finn finally said, his back stiff.

“The places of the Gates match your presence there. What the book says about John Grey is that there was never only one. And his birthmark... It looked an awful lot like yours.”

Finn shivered.

Her arms ached with the need to hold him, but her life had just been turned upside down — again. She hugged herself instead, and wondered if the ice inside her chest would ever leave. “Remember you told me how the Shades are following you? How the Veil thinned wherever you were? How you jumped into this world one day? You have the ability to open Gates.”

The wind whistled outside.

“What can I do?” Finn said, his voice barely audible.

“I don’t know.” She started to pace again, thumping her fists against her hips. “You must stop, that’s all I know. If there’s no Gate, the elves can’t get through.” The elves, who had forgotten for centuries who John Grey was. But now they knew.

He turned toward her. His gaze was dark with fear. “Will you tell Dave?”

Ella buried her fingers in her hair, massaging her scalp. “This isn’t something I can hide for long.”

“No.”

“Maybe he knows a way to stop it.”

“No, Ella. Please.” Finn kept shaking his head. “I won’t. I won’t sleep.”

“Ever again?” She’d laugh but he was so serious she had no doubt he’d try. She still couldn’t believe that she was staring in the face of John Grey, a being with the power to create portals through the Grey, through the Veil, between worlds.

And it was still Finn, his face drawn, his hands white-knuckled on the window sill. It wasn’t his fault, and she wasn’t throwing him to the dogs. Not if she could help it. “We’ll figure something out.”

He nodded, a jerky motion.

“First of all, we need to keep you awake,” she said, a bitterness in her mouth, in her heart, that she didn’t know how to erase. “Start with the basics. Drink coffee. Keep moving.”

She couldn’t bear to touch him. Her heart wouldn’t take it if this didn’t work, if she had to give Finn up.

If she had to choose between Finn and the world.

She brewed a full pot of coffee and all but poured it down Finn’s throat. Put rock music on the portable player she’s salvaged from her old apartment, so loud the window panes vibrated. Decided they should clean the house, get rid of the old blood smell. Finn said nothing, not a word, working hard. Sometimes she caught his eyes on her, questioning, scared, trusting. But when her hand brushed his arm, he flinched and jerked away.

God. He was hers to protect and she’d promised not to let them take him away, but now she knew exactly why they were so keen on having him — and had no clue how to protect him from his own magic.

By nightfall, Finn was rubbing his eyes and nodding off, so she offered more coffee. When she called her boss and asked about any more Gates opening, any mutilated white animals appearing, Dave said none had been reported and that they could stay home and rest that night.

Worst news ever. Not that it proved anything, but it didn’t disprove it, either.

Finn was staring at her when she flipped the phone closed. She shook her head. They had dinner in the living room, fresh sandwiches and more coffee. No matter what, though, around midnight Finn’s head started to dip forward, and that was a bad, bad idea.

“Finn, come on. We’re going for a walk.”

He blinked sleepily but let her dress him in a parka Mike had left and drag him out into the cold. The snow had melted and the sky had cleared. Stars shone against the black. They walked past bars and restaurants, past parks and the railway station, into the commercial center. Finn began to limp so badly she hauled him to a late hours cafe. He grimaced when she ordered him more coffee.

Could someone die of caffeine overdose? How strong were elven stomachs?

“So we stick to my plan?” Finn muttered, stirring sugar into his black coffee. “To keep me awake forever?”

“That’s a long time.” She gazed out the window at the happy people strolling down the street, bar-hopping. “We’ll find another solution.”

Finn rubbed at his forehead. His face was drawn and pale. One night’s sleep wouldn’t be enough to put him back on his feet, and the prospect of spending more nights awake was terrifying.

No more terrifying than the Gates opening, though.

It felt like a surrealist dream, sitting in the low-lit cafe, talking in quiet tones, like a couple on a date, instead of discussing the fate of the world.

She pulled the book from her backpack and pushed it toward him on the table. “Maybe you can help me, spot some clue that I’m missing.”

He took it, turned it over in his hands — strong, callused fingers with thin white scars — and nodded. He glanced around, checking if anyone was watching before opening his jacket and stuffing the book into the inside breast pocket. His leather shoulder holster gleamed dark against his white t-shirt and the beige gun handle curved over his ribs.

The jacket flap fell back into place, hiding gun and holster.

“You crossed a year ago,” she muttered, sipping her tea. “What changed a year ago? Why were you able to cross then and not before?”

He shifted uncomfortably and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I entered my majority,” he said.

“At twenty-two?”

Finn shrugged.

“Is that the normal age for an aelfr to hit majority?”

“I was a couple of years late.”

Oh. “So I’m guessing entering majority means that your magic matures, right? And also...” She waved a hand, warmth climbing her neck. “Your body?”

Finn stared into his coffee. He nodded.

Interesting. Fascinating.

And quite useless. He’d crossed, and then had stopped creating Gates, at least functional ones, until...

“Oh crap. You and me.” She groaned and resisted the urge to bang her head on the table. Finn arched a brow at her, and she waved a hand at him. “The Gates didn’t work after you crossed, until you met me.”

Of course. She was the Stabilizer.

He watched her, not even breathing, a small vein in his jaw beating frantically. “You mean that you—”

“Must be why the dreams are more intense, why I can even share your memories when awake.”

He stood, bumping into the table. “I’ll leave.”

“Wait, Finn.” She scrambled upright, caught his arm. “There must be another way.” She wanted to believe it, because she couldn’t imagine a life without Finn. Didn’t want to imagine it.

Hope lit up his eyes and unable to resist any longer, she leaned forward and cupped his face, kissed his lips.

Couldn’t keep apart.

As one.

“Let’s go,” she said, suddenly aware of everyone watching. “We’ll figure this out. For every magic there’s counter-magic, right?”

She really hoped so. Meanwhile, she’d send Finn to stay in another town, another state if needed, and see if the Gates stopped forming. It could buy them time — or could solve the problem altogether.

***

On the way back home, she slipped in a puddle of melting slush, and found Finn’s arm around her waist. When she straightened, he didn’t let go. Warmth radiated from him, through his jacket, heating up her skin. They continued like that, bodies pressed together, steps synchronized, to the entrance of the building. Then she fumbled with the keys and he moved away, leaving her cold.

No, she couldn’t be without him, without his warmth, his faint smiles, his familiar glare. Just the thought felt like someone was ripping her heart out of her chest.

Sending him away would be a temporary solution, she told herself as they rode up. She reached for his hand, tangled her fingers with his, felt him relax. Until she found a real solution.

Moonlight fell through the windows of the living room, painting the old sofa and table silver. Finn closed and locked the door and followed her inside, in the soft darkness.

He stopped. “Someone’s here.”

The light came on, making Ella gasp.

Dave entered the room, two men at his back.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Her hand went to the grip of her gun, always at her hip.

“I asked if I could trust you. I think there’s something you forgot to tell me.”

Finn’s eyes flicked to the exits — doors, windows. His hand reached into his jacket for his gun.

“Finn, wait.” Ella sucked a sharp breath. “Dave, just say what you came to—”

Dave drew a semiautomatic, fitted with a silencer, and raised it.

Oh fuck. “Down, Finn!” She threw herself at Dave as he fired.

The sound crashed like a jackhammer, deafening her. Dave shoved her off and she staggered, turning around.

Time stopped.

Finn lay flat on his back, face slack, a crimson stain spreading on his white t-shirt. She couldn’t find the breath to speak. Her knees couldn’t hold her; she began to slide down and grabbed hold of the back of an armchair to stay upright.

Lifting his gun, Dave took a step toward Finn.

That broke Ella from her paralysis. She jerked forward, grabbed Dave’s hand and twisted it.

A shot went off, smashing into the window across the room, raining shards. Ella let go of Dave and covered her face with her arm.

Dammit.

The glass tinkled around them, then silence fell.

Ella uncovered her face and frowned. “You bastard, you...” She glanced back at Finn who lay still on the floor and the words failed her. God, Finn... She’d failed him, just like she’d failed Simon. “He gave me all the information he has about his race. He wanted to fight on our side, damn you!”

And it was too late. What use did words have now?

“Stay out of this,” Dave said, pushing past her toward Finn’s sprawled form.

Her heart boomed, and her hands clenched so hard her nails bit into her palms, tiny sparkles of pain. “The fuck I will.”

In one move, she swept his feet from under him. He fell with a thump and she straddled his back, pinning his hand with the gun to the floor. He bucked under her, but a chop to his hand released his hold on the gun and she took it away. Reversing it, she pressed the gun mouth to his neck, pressed hard until he stilled.

Footsteps sounded on her left and she whipped her own gun up. The two men Dave had brought with him stopped moving.

“Get out of here”, she rasped. “And close the door behind you.” A sob wracked her and coolness spilled down her cheeks. Damn them all to hell.

They backed away, raising their guns. She waited until the door closed before turning her gaze back to Dave.

“This isn’t a joke, Ella,” he muttered, his voice strangled. “He’s John Grey, opening Gates, about to cause this world to be invaded. Keep out of this.”

“Shut up.” Speaking hurt her chest. She couldn’t breathe. It was as if she’d been the one shot. “Just shut up. My hand isn’t steady and my mind not made up yet whether to kill you now or later.”

“Ella...” Dave had stopped struggling. “Calm down. I know this is hard for you.”

Oh now he was concerned? Fuck him. Anger sent her heart slamming against her ribs, her blood pounding in her ears. It made her hands tremble — and cleared her eyes so that she saw a darkness spread down Dave’s throat and inside — spirals and clockwork, spinning and whirring.

Oh shit.

Her gorge rose. She fell off him, scrambling backward, her breath caught short. To see the seam of the Guardians, Mike had said, she needed to be in an altered state — but it wasn’t fear or alcohol that did the trick. It was anger. Mind-blanking fury.

Dave sat up carefully and she raised the gun, pointing at him. Would a bullet kill him if she took the shot? Could anything kill him?

“You’re a...” She couldn’t even say it. The seam running from Dave’s head to his polished shoes was already blurring, fading as shock replaced her anger. “A goddamn Duergr, a fucking Guardian.” She had to swallow down bile before she threw up. “You killed Finn.”

Dave wasn’t looking at her, as if not caring that his true identity was known. He stared at a point behind her. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”

She got up slowly, her limbs uncoordinated and heavy, and turned.

Blood had pooled on the floor and fat crimson drops led to the open window. She blinked, unable to process what she saw.

Finn wasn’t there.

Vaguely aware of Dave shouting for the two officers, Ella gathered her scattered wits and stumbled to the window to look outside. Five stories. And Finn was shot and bleeding.

Frigid air stung her wet cheeks as she leaned out and stared down to the street, then up. No sign of him.

Finn was gone.

THE END of EPISODE FOUR

The Truth

Episode 5

Nine worlds hang on Ygdrasil, shaken by the giants
the asas mend the threads of worlds,
the dwarves guard mighty portals
the aesir drink, the dark elves weave,
the light elves wage war.

In a familiar hall I stand
far from the sun, on a strand of dead bodies
where venom drips and serpents slither.

My dreams are heavy.

I shall endure the ache and sorrow,

I shall not lay down my arms.

Anger and fury have their uses,
children of my pain.

Chapter One

Dark

Ella held her head, hunched over on the couch. “You shot Finn,” she muttered, not too loud, in case her skull split apart.

“And you stopped me from finishing him and let him escape,” Dave grumbled. “That’s obstruction of justice. Not to mention assault on your superior.”

“I’m an officer of the law.”

“And I’m your boss!” Dave was wearing a hole in the carpet, pacing up and down the living room.

“My boss.” She wanted to throw up. “You’re a robot. You’re not even human.”

“Neither is he.”

His admission changed nothing; it was simply a confirmation of what she’d feared, and it paled in the face of what had just happened.

A pool of blood by the window — Finn’s blood — drew her eye. She felt sick. “He was under your payroll. Someone will wonder what happened to him.”

“He held a temporary position. In a secret bureau. Without papers. His traces have already been erased.”

“Erased.” The word tasted bitter. “He’s my partner and he was doing his best. He had no idea he was causing the Gates. I’m sure there’s another way to fix this.”

“Yeah. Not sleeping. And how long did you think that would last? A day? Two?”

He’d listened in to their discussions. What else had he overheard? Maybe he’d already connected the dots, known she was the reason the Gates held.

“If it’s magic, there must be counter-magic,” she whispered. “Stands to reason. It’s what the tales tell us.”

“So you’d depend on fairytales for a solution?”

“He’s an elf, if it escaped your attention. Fairytales might just be the best source of information we have.” She glanced at the window Finn had used to escape. “And you’re a fucking duergr. A Guardian. A dwarf.” A pretty tall one, too. “How come you didn’t know John Grey was a Light elf? How on earth didn’t you know how the Gates open? What crappy sort of Guardian are you anyway?”

“I’ve been stranded here since the Middle Ages,” Dave grunted. “Some knowledge got lost, obviously. Now, where is he?”

“I told you, I have no idea.” Ella rubbed her forehead. She had an idea, in fact, unless Finn had more friends than he’d admitted to. It all depended on how mobile he was. Probably too stubborn to stop moving even if he was dying. “He never said anything. I bet he wasn’t expecting to be brought down by his own team.”

Dave didn’t wince in the slightest at the barb. Bastard. “I’ll do another sweep of the block. Don’t even think about moving from here.”

Ella watched him go with the two officers. She didn’t think Finn would be coming back to her. The look of betrayal on his face when Dave had walked in had told her all she needed to know: Finn was sure she’d given him up. The only direction he’d be running now would be away from her.

That hurt. But what hurt more was the knowledge that he might be dying and she couldn’t go look for him while Dave breathed down her neck.

Fuck.

Jumping to her feet, she walked to the window. She’d seen Finn climb buildings like a spider before. At least she knew he hadn’t fallen to his death — the body would have been found immediately.

Would he board a bus to Jamesville to Norma Jones, the woman he’d spoken of? Or was he bleeding his life out in some alley?

With a growl, she turned to pace the living room. She hated that Dave made sense. Killing Finn would be the easiest solution — close all Gates, avoid the invasion. Problem solved.

But killing people — elves — wasn’t a solution. Killing Finn, dammit. And now Dave had sent him running, perhaps back to his own world. What if his dead mother or her doppelganger beckoned once more? What solution would Finn see other than return home?

By taking the easy path, Dave had made things worse. Before, they’d been sure Finn was on their side — but what about now?

Cursing, she turned to grind another furrow in her floor, when the door banged open.

Finn?

Hope died at once. Dave was back, his scowl dark. “Gone like a puff of smoke. I hoped the wound would slow him down. But it wouldn’t, would it? Bloody elf.”

Ella shrugged. Nothing short of passing out would stop Finn. “How the hell did you realize he’s John Grey?”

“Followed the half-formed Gates, asked around to find out if he’d been there. Then there was the connection to you: a Stabilizer. And bingo.”

She winced. How on earth was she performing this stabilizing trick? What was the connection to her sharing Finn’s dreams? She’d obviously done it since she was little, even though she didn’t remember. Finn hitting his majority had obviously changed the way that worked.

“There has to be a way to neutralize his magic.” But who could she ask? “If I’m the Stabilizer, why didn’t you kill me?”

“Don’t give me ideas,” Dave snapped. “I don’t need to kill you. There are many Stabilizers out there. Only one John Grey.”

Huh. Disappointed you’re not unique, Ella? “So why did you take notes on me?”

“I took notes on all of them.” He shook his head. “Didn’t help one bit in finding him.”

But Finn had apparently seen her face only and no other. Damn, he’d said she made him feel safe, and now...

If the Gates were connected to Finn’s dreams, it made sense his interrupted sleep would lead to interrupted portals. Whereas, when Finn slept by her side, he felt safe and slept soundly, not waking.

Forming perfect Gates.

She wasn’t stabilizing the Gates. She was stabilizing Finn. Shoot me now. She eyed Dave’s gun. Or rather not.

“I see,” she said, her mind a whirlwind. “You’ve got it all figured out.” Or so you think.

“Insubordination and concealment of important information,” Dave grated. “I could remove your badge and throw you into jail.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Because he wanted her to lead him to Finn, obviously. She lifted her chin. She had to find Finn and put Dave off her trail. How?

“I’ve lost enough agents already,” Dave muttered and holstered his gun. “We’ll find him, with or without your help. If you tell us where he is, we might arrive before he bleeds to death.”

“You want me to believe you won’t put a bullet in his head as soon as you see him.”

It had been a mistake, saying those words. Dave’s eyes gleamed. “So you do know where he is.”

“Dammit, Dave, I told you I don’t. I know nothing about him, his friends or haunts. He’s not the talkative kind, you know.”

Anger drew his features into harsh lines. “Fine. You’re staying here, in case he shows up. If you remember where he might be, let me know. You have my number.”

“I’m to be a prisoner in my own home?”

“Unless you prefer a prison cell. Don’t get any ideas. I’ve got men posted outside, downstairs, at the fire-escape and around the building.” He signaled at the two officers. “Keep an eye on her at all times. Call me if anything changes.”

He left them guarding her door.

Ella watched Dave go. Leaving was his first mistake. She’d find a way to get out before he came back.

***

The two men observed her as she puttered around the kitchen, fixing herself a cup of tea and trying to remember when she’d last eaten. She found some stale bread and ham and slapped together a sandwich. Her stomach roiled at the thought of eating, but she had to keep her strength if she was to help Finn.

Munching on the hard bread, she wandered to the windows of the living room. The men tensed. What? She wasn’t going to climb down the building facade; she wasn’t Finn.

She sat on the couch, washing the sandwich down with lukewarm tea. He wasn’t any more responsible for his ability than she was. Hadn’t used his magic on purpose any more than she had.

Was there a way to neutralize a magical ability? Who might know?

Sarah. Maybe Simon’s girlfriend knew someone or something to help fix this. In that secret organization, there had to be knowledgeable people to ask, though Dave shouldn’t get a whiff.

If she found a way out of the building. If she managed to contact Sarah. If Sarah could help.

Well, there was only one way of knowing, wasn’t there?

She put down her cup and considered her options. According to Dave, men were posted around the building watching every possible way down, including the fire escape.

Fine, Dave. The game’s on.

She rummaged in her backpack, which they’d already checked, and snagged some money, her cards and driver’s license, and pulled them out, keeping her hands hidden.

The officers gave her disinterested looks.

She pretended to doze for a while, watching them under lowered lids as they grew bored and sleepy. It was two in the morning.

Stuffing her cards and money into her back pocket, she got up to wash the dishes. One of the men wandered into the kitchen and leaned against the wall, waiting for her to finish.

Next she visited the bathroom and the guy followed her inside, checking that the window was too small for her to pass and that there was no ladder outside. She folded her arms while he completed his inspection, then gave the door a pointed look until he left her the hell alone.

She leaned on the closed door, relishing the brief moment of privacy. Right. Now, a plan. Not much time before Dave returned — or Finn bled to death.

Do it. Now, before the dawn.

Stepping into the shower brought back tactile memories of Finn, the feel of his skin under her fingertips, his lips against hers. She scrubbed herself viciously with the sponge, striving for focus. The plan was forming in her mind, the paths of actions and possibilities entwining like vines.

Wrapping a towel around her, she stepped out of the bathroom and made a show of closing her bedroom door.

Of course the guy came to investigate, frowning darkly. “Doors must remain open.”

“I need a few minutes to get dressed,” she said, stepping toward the bed. “Is that a problem?”

He tsked. Giving the room a brief check, as if he hadn’t looked into its every corner already, he went to the window and opened it, letting in frigid air. There were pipes alongside the window, she knew, and she’d seen the man posted right below. Dave had taken no risks.

The officer closed the window and nodded. “Fine. Don’t take too long.”

She stuck her tongue out at him only after he’d shut the door. She hadn’t talked back or made any rude comment about his ancestors. See? She could be mature when she needed to be.

Throwing the towel on the bed, she pulled on black pants and a blouse, a dark sweater, and her dark blue hiking boots.

Hurry, hurry.

She stuffed her cards and money in a small backpack she grabbed from her closet, and the contents of a medic-kit, plus a flashlight. That robotic ass, Dave, had taken away her mobile phone.

She paused, listening for any sign of the officers coming to check on her.

Silence.

Letting out a breath, she shouldered the backpack and opened the window. She leaned out. Faint light from the street below seeped into the night, allowing her to see the pipes running alongside the window.

The street was so far down, the small lights danced in her vision. Hell. She’d never liked heights and vertigo threatened. Biting her lip, trying not to think beyond her next move, she climbed onto the window sill and grabbed the pipes.

Dave had posted men below.

But not above.

The pipes were old; she hoped they wouldn’t give up the ghost tonight. Her boots found purchase on the metal rings and she shifted her hold higher, standing. Wind gusts whipped her back, tugged on her wet ponytail.

A shudder went through her. Terror was curling in her stomach, making her grasp shake.

For you, Finn. You’d better be alive to appreciate it.

Before panic crushed her, she forced her numb limbs into action and began her climb. Aware of the policeman posted below, she flinched at every creak of the pipes, every scuffle of her feet on the rings.

Higher, just a little higher, she promised herself, her teeth clenched. You can do this.

Her foot slipped and she gasped, grabbing the pipes. The groan that went through the metal froze her. The officer below had to have heard it.

But the wind wheezed and whined all around, and in any case, too late for a panic attack. There was no way but up if she wanted to survive.

Her groping hand found the ledge of the building and she hauled herself higher, thanking all the years she’d spent at the gym. She threw a leg over the top. She angled for another hold and a sharp pain in her hand almost threw her off the building. Something had sliced into her flesh.

Damn.

Another heave, her arms burning as she hauled herself up, and she fell over the low wall onto the terrace. She rolled on her back, gasping for breath, every muscle turned to jelly, the old fracture in her leg throbbing and smarting.

Get up. The clouds above spun in slow circles, the half moon darting behind them. Soon the men in her apartment would know she was gone and the manhunt would begin.

Dragging her sorry ass off the wet concrete, she stood on the terrace, her hair lashing her neck, and checked her backpack was still in one piece.

The next building almost touched the one she stood on. Jogging to the seam between them, she took a deep breath and jumped over to the next terrace. She landed on bent knees, her bad leg aching, straightened and ran across the rooftop, gripping the straps of her backpack.

The moon had rolled behind the clouds and she didn’t want to use her flashlight. She kept to the middle of the terrace, gripped by an irrational fear she’d walk off the edge and fall to her death.

If she managed to move a few buildings down the street, she’d be far enough to put her pursuers off her scent.

She could do this.

Piece of cake, compared to finding Finn when he didn’t want to be found.

Chapter Two

Hunter

Ella crouched behind a dumpster as angry voices and running footsteps approached, then faded down the avenue.

So far so good. Finding a building with an unlocked roof hatch had been a bitch, but afterward she’d been able to slip out into the night.

She started to rise from her hideout when she heard a shout nearby and sank back down. Peering around the corner, she saw three figures in uniform standing under a streetlight, guns out and pointing down.

Time to get out of there, before they brought in the dogs. In fact, she’d love to circle back to her building and look for a trail. Not a trail of breadcrumbs; a trail of blood. It was possible Finn had left traces, no matter how careful he was.

Then again, that would also be Dave’s first thought, and besides, Finn was a hunter. If he could still think straight, erasing his trail would be top on his list of priorities.

Talking of blood trails... She tightened the bandage she’d wrapped around her hand until she was sure the bleeding had stopped. Quiet settled around her and she dared peek around the dumpster to check. The men were gone.

Getting as far away from her building as possible would be best, and that would be Finn’s thought as well. He had money on him, and could easily have picked a cab.

But where to?

Norma Jones. Finn’s ex girlfriend... or not. Ella shook her head. She’d believed it once, but now?

Still... It was the only friend Finn had ever mentioned. Would he have taken the bus to Jamesville? She recalled the puddle of blood on the floor and hesitated. Finn was a stubborn bastard, sure, and he’d gone and made his escape where none seemed possible, but he was still badly hurt.

He might have called and asked for help, though. Maybe Norma Jones knew where Finn was hiding.

Ella crept out of her hiding place and flagged a taxi. Two minutes later, she was seated in the warm interior, slowly thawing.

“Corner of Madison and Kentucky, seaside,” she told the taxi driver and settled back on the padded seat, watching the colored lights of all-night shops flicker by. Her hand throbbed. She clenched it into a fist, feeling blood seep from the bandage and trickle between her fingers.

Next on the list: find that Norma Jones’ number and use her virtually non-existent charm to find out if Finn had been in contact.

As plans went, it was as far-fetched as it got. But right now she could think of nothing else to guide her to Finn, and she’d grasp at any straw.

***

The hotel was white and blue with anchors painted on either side of the entrance. Docks. Nautical theme. Yeah, yeah. It stood right opposite Bellini’s, Mike’s favorite Italian restaurant, which was how she knew the hotel in the first place.

She paid the taxi and tugged on the straps of her backpack, well aware she was running a race against time and didn’t even know where the finish line lay.

Glad to be out of the cold, she gave the receptionist a false name and climbed up to her second floor room with its single bed, its lamp in the shape of a boat and more blue and white everywhere.

Dropping on the bed, she reached for the telephone on the nightstand. The service operator sounded sleepy, her voice dragging. It had to be around four in the morning. The name, town and state seemed to strike her as inadequate.

“But her address?” the woman insisted.

“That’s all I have,” Ella muttered. “It’s a small town, you can find her.” If Norma was listed. “Please. It’s urgent.”

The operator grumbled something and silence stretched. Ella found herself drumming her fingers on the nightstand.

“All right, I’ve got her,” the operator chirped and rattled off the number. Ella could have kissed her. There was a moment of panic as she scrambled to find a pen and a piece of paper — thankfully there was a complimentary pad on the table by the window — and jotted the number down.

She hung up and sighed. Maybe some god up there was finally paying attention.

That, or toying with her.

Her fingers shook as she tapped the number and waited. The phone rang. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six, Seven times. Eight. Nine. Ten.

Dammit. She hung up, trying to control her panicked breathing. Hyperventilating wouldn’t help anyone.

After a moment, she rang again, biting on a cuticle. Damn, where was the woman? Did that mean Finn hadn’t reached her? Or that she was with him, taking him to a hospital? Or worse, that hell had broken loose, police pursuing them or Shades attacking them?

With Ella’s luck, it was probably the latter.

She almost sobbed with relief when she heard a woman’s voice answer at the other end.

“Who is this?” The voice was raspy and thin, not at all what Ella had expected.

“Hi!” She swallowed. “I’m Ella Benson, a friend of Finn’s. Are you Norma Jones?”

Nothing happened for a few beats and Ella was about ready to chew through the cable, when the woman coughed.

“Yes, I am Norma. Who are you? Did you say something about Finn?”

God, patience. “Benson, friend of Finn’s. He said you used to work together in a diner in Blackwater.”

Another beat of silence and Ella wanted to scream and pound on the walls. “Please,” she said, forcing steel into her voice. “It’s important. I’m worried about Finn. Is he there with you? Has he called you? Do you know where he is?”

“Honey,” Norma said. “Calm down. Now, why would you think Finn is here?”

Hope flared in Ella’s chest. “So he is?” She leaned forward and gripped the edge of the bedside table. “Listen to me, Norma, this is important. You can’t take him to a hospital. I’ll come over and I’ll bring a trusted doctor with me to have a look at the bullet wound—”

“Bullet wound?” Norma’s voice rose an octave. “Slow down now. We are talking about the same Finn, right? A tall, thin man, with blond hair?”

“Yes.” Sudden doubt assaulted Ella. “He is there, isn’t he?” Oh god, please. “Or has he contacted you? Do you know where he is?”

“I’m afraid not,” Norma said, and Ella fell back, her breath knocked out of her.

She’d been so certain... She knew of no other person Finn would contact. If he hadn’t, then did that mean...

The room spun, and she closed her eyes, swallowing bile. She’d failed him. She’d find him dead, like Simon.

“Ella,” Norma said in a careful voice. “Finn was shot?”

Ella forced her eyes open. “Yes, early this morning. I thought he’d come to you. Do you know where he might go, has he mentioned any other friends?”

“No. He was always a quiet man,” Norma said. “Never said much.”

And wasn’t that the understatement of the century. “Well, sorry I woke you up.” Ella drew another shaky breath. “The police might come to ask you questions. Be truthful. I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

“The police? What happened? What did he do?”

“Nothing. Not his fault. Forget it.” Ella rubbed her stinging eyes. “I have to go now. I need to find him before it’s too late.”

“Oh dear,” Norma said, her voice wavering. “I just can’t believe it.”

And she didn’t know half of it. “Please don’t tell anyone I called.” Could Ella trust her?

Did she have a choice?

She needed to start searching the city. Maybe start with the Stadium where he used to stay. “Goodbye then and—”

“Shush. I’m thinking, honey,” Norma said. “Let me see if I can remember anything useful. It’s been quite a few months since I left Blackwater. Finn never spoke much. Didn’t go out, or do sports. He told me he didn’t sleep very well.”

Ella nodded. That was the Finn she knew, alright. “Has he ever mentioned any specific place, any motel or store?”

What was she hoping to find? Maybe Finn had holed up at a random motel, or squatted like he used to.

Like he used to. Wait. He was hurt and lost. In his shoes, she’d fall back to old survival habits. “What would a hunter do?” The question left her lips before she’d realized.

“A hunter? My dad used to hunt. Camouflage was everything, he’d say.”

Camouflage. Ella rubbed her throbbing temple. What if he hadn’t made it to a taxi or bus? What if he’d been cut off by Dave’s men — or worse, what if he couldn’t go on and had holed up somewhere? Hiding in plain sight?

He’d been an elf among humans for a long time. Pretending to be something else was his specialty.

Now, if she wanted to find him, she had to do the same. ‘If you can’t go on, then hide.’ Finn had said that to her. “I have to go. Sorry to have bothered you, Norma.”

“Wait. I’m on my way to find you. Where are you?”

“No way,” Ella muttered. “Stay put. I’ll let you know if I find—”

“He’s hurt and I’m a certified nurse. Are you in the city? I can be there in two hours. Tell me what you need.”

“Norma...” Who to trust? What to do?

“He’s stood by me,” Norma said, her tone defiant. “I left due to medical issues, and he gave me money to pay the bills. It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. I owe him.”

“If anything happens to you, he’ll kill me.”

“Not if he doesn’t live through the night,” Norma said. “Look, honey, I’m ill. I might as well go down fighting. For Finn. So what do you say?”

Ella swallowed hard, torn. “Fine. But let’s all try and keep alive for now, okay?”

Death sort of spoiled the promise of a happy ending, and god knew she could do with one.

Chapter Three

Warrior

Two hours. It felt like a lifetime, and the minutes spilled through Ella’s fingers like the blood dripping from Finn’s chest.

Unwrapping the gauze from her hand, she took a long look at the deep, jagged cut in her palm. Jesus, she was lucky the nerves and tendons were still in one piece. Served her right for grabbing things in the dark. From the looks of it, she’d shared a handshake with a sharp piece of metal.

Great, Ella. Spectacular job so far. Plus you’re using up the medical supplies you brought along for Finn.

With a sigh, she set about cleaning the cut, applying disinfectant and butterfly bandages, then wrapping it tightly again. Shallow cuts on her arms, from the shards of the broken window at her apartment, had stopped bleeding. She cleaned them up and put her shirt back on.

Ready. As ready as she ever hoped to be.

Color was touching the sky outside, red spreading over the sea. Seagulls wheeled over the docks. Where the hell was Norma? Ella had asked for a couple things to wear as a disguise, and had answered Norma’s questions the best she could without revealing Finn’s true nature.

Had Norma believed her? Would she betray Ella and lead the police to her?

Ella shook her head. She was mad. This plan was insane. But she couldn’t think of another.

She paced her room, unable to rest or get warm. Chills wracked her body and a ghost pain bloomed below her heart.

Where Finn had been shot.

Or maybe it was her stomach aching from the tension. She’d get an ulcer if things didn’t calm down soon.

Calm down? That almost set her into hysterical laughter and she went to turn on the television, hoping the inane chatter from some reality show might distract her.

After five seconds of watching a woman with huge silicone boobs explain how important said boobs were in her life and how everyone should get the same, she changed the channel and came across a breaking news announcement.

Apparently strange happenings had been reported downtown.

Close to her neighborhood.

She backed away and sank on the mattress. Odd disturbances in the atmosphere. Albino animals clawing their way out of thin air only to drop, half of their bodies missing. A snake-like thing had managed to bite a woman before it fell, chopped in half. A child reported a winged dragon flying at her, then tumbling out of the air and hitting a storefront. Its hind parts were missing. Gore and blood was everywhere. The military had arrived. There was talk of an invasion, and they’d begun evacuating that part of the city.

She barely heard the rest.

Dear god. She hadn’t been wrong. Finn was still here, still alive. Probably unconscious, caught in nightmares. Opening Gates.

And Dave had to know it, too.

She straightened. Enough of reeling and feeling like she’d been the one shot. Finn had to be downtown. She couldn’t wait any longer.

But rushing into the fray only to be arrested or shot on sight wouldn’t help Finn.

Unable to sit around any longer, she went down the stairs, into the small lobby with its bored receptionist. She paced, stealing glances at the television mounted on the wall. The evacuation had begun. Damn. Sweat trickled down her back. Her pulse pounded behind her eyes.

Helpless. Depending on Finn’s friend, a stranger. Without her weapons and friends. Could things get any worse?

A picture was flashing on the television screen, and it took Ella a moment to realize what she was seeing: it was her own face, expression open and smiling. The caption said, ‘Wanted. If you’ve seen this person please contact the police.’

Oh fucking hell. Without waiting to see if the receptionist was paying attention to the news, Ella walked as calmly as she could to the automatic door and stepped outside into the pale colors of dawn.

A black sedan entered the parking lot as she hurried across the cemented area. For a moment, hope flared bright and Ella slowed. Maybe it was Norma come to pick her up.

But an old woman was driving, and behind Ella the receptionist was shouting her name.

Just perfect.

Ella took off running. She exited into a street, her boots hitting asphalt, and she kept running, hoping to reach a busy avenue and find a cab.

Faster. Go faster. The backpack thumped against her back, the straps digging into her muscles, the old injury sending sparks of fire up her thigh.

A car engine hummed behind her. The vehicle overtook her and slowed. It was the old woman in the sedan again.

“Are you Ella?” the woman shouted. “Ella Johnson?”

Ella stopped and bent over, a stitch in her side. “Who are you?”

“I’m Norma Jones.”

“No way.” But it was that same raspy voice she’d heard on the phone. God. To think that even for one moment she’d assumed Norma had been Finn’s girlfriend.

The old woman was regarding her with open curiosity. She was dressed in a pink sweater, the color matching her lipstick. Her hair was cut short, a bluish white, and golden hoops glinted on her ears. Her eyes were dark and warm, and currently narrowed on Ella.

“Are you Ella Johnson?” the woman insisted.

“Benson,” Ella said. “Ella Benson.”

“Well, hop on inside then, Ella Benson, what are you waiting for?”

Ella climbed into the car and set the backpack between her legs. “Please, step on the gas. My face’s all over the news.” It left a sour taste in her mouth. “How am I ever going to make it past the police downtown?”

“Take a deep breath, young lady.” Norma drove slowly, so slowly Ella looked back to make sure the receptionist wasn’t still running behind them. “It’s going to be fine.”

Fine? Finn had been shot. Oh Jesus. Ella drew a shaky breath. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Norma smiled. It was easy to see why Finn had been drawn to her. She had a motherly air about her that spoke of freshly-baked cookies and comfort. What Finn craved.

“Have you found anything that could help me go behind the lines?”

“As I said, I used to be a nurse.” Norma tapped a hand on the wheel. “So chin up, girl. Nobody looks twice at someone in uniform.”

Ella nodded. Why hadn’t she thought of that?

They stopped at a gas station and Ella went to change in the ladies room. She came out squirming in her borrowed clothes. She hoped they’d do the trick but she felt damn uncomfortable. The light blue shirt and the knee-length skirt were bad enough, but she was also wearing a pair of Norma’s shoes — high heels ‘from her youth’. Ella hoped they didn’t hold any sentimental value for the old woman because she’d chuck them into a dumpster as soon as she found Finn, if not earlier.

And with her hair loose, she felt like she wasn’t herself at all. Here was to hoping she’d fool others, too.

“I thought nurses wore low, comfortable shoes,” she grumbled.

“You look great in them,” Norma informed her.

Ella sighed and settled in the seat. She couldn’t complain. She was grateful. “Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it.” She cocked her head to the side, regarding Norma. “You really like Finn, don’t you?”

“Yes. Why, don’t you?” Norma smiled, setting off again, and Ella nodded, her eyes stinging.

Loved him, in fact. So much that the thought of losing him was killing her.

“You said you had medical problems,” Ella said, to break the downward spiral of her thoughts. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I have a congenital heart defect.” Norma kept her eyes on the road. “It can’t be fixed. It’s all down to luck now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ella whispered.

“Ah, it’s okay, dear. I’m happy. I left work to spend what’s left of my life doing what I’ve always wanted.”

“And what’s that?”

“Gardening and playing poker with friends.”

Ella opened her mouth and closed it again. “Poker?”

“Yup.” Norma grinned. “We try to avoid strip poker, though. Don’t want to frighten ourselves silly.”

“You play strip poker?”

Norma huffed. “Of course, but only on special occasions.”

Ella snorted and rolled her eyes. Finn’s friends. She watched the houses and shops roll by. It was taking forever to reach the city center. “Can’t you go any faster?”

“Patience,” Norma said, unruffled, her thin hands steady on the wheel. “Which way now?”

Patience? Ella blew her dark hair out of her face as they passed through more familiar neighborhoods. Please, Finn, be alive. Her stomach was a knot of tension, fear making her palms clammy and her throat tight. You promised.

“And when we are downtown?” Norma asked. “What’s the plan, honey?”

“Just drop me there and wait. We’ll find you.”

***

Ella’s pulse drummed in her temples as she walked down the avenue a few streets down from her building. She tried to look confident in her high heels and prayed she wouldn’t stumble and break an ankle. A briefcase, borrowed from Norma, was tucked under one armpit, and she’d even slapped on red lipstick and mascara.

Norma had brought along more make-up tools than Ella had ever owned. That was easy, given she hadn’t owned any since she was seventeen. Not much use when you ran into Shades on a daily basis.

She licked her lips nervously and grimaced at the waxy taste. Resisting the urge to wipe her mouth on the back of her hand, she kept going, taking note of police. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least on the surface.

Deep breaths, Ella. If anyone asked, she was with the Salvation Army. Her clothes didn’t sport the initial of the organization, but she’d say she was new. A plastic badge pinned to her breast pocket read ‘Norma Cole’, Norma’s maiden name. Norma hadn’t explained why she’d abandoned her profession to work at the diner where she’d met Finn. There would be time for questions later.

At least she hoped so. Fingers crossed.

Her reflection winked at her from the glass of a store front and she stopped so suddenly she almost fell over. That was her? Framed in weak sunlight, she looked taller and thinner in the high heels and skirt, and the loose hair made her look... flirty somehow. Ugh.

No way would Dave recognize her from a distance. Man, she barely recognized herself.

As she walked briskly on, she noticed the military’s presence. Officers with machine guns were herding people down the streets, and an armed jeep stood a block down. She strode past, pretending she belonged there, in the disaster zone.

One of the soldiers actually nodded at her.

Feeling more confident, she hurried by the neighborhood’ pharmacy and the grocery store, gaze flicking to the doorways, seeing who sat or lay there. She knew the faces of most homeless people in the area. That was her one advantage right now.

She nodded to old Joe who sat at his usual spot outside the afro-shop at the corner, then waved at Maria who was curled as always outside the launderette. Maria gave her a blank look, obviously not recognizing her.

Ella walked past the deli and the Greek fast-food joint, moving closer to her building with every step. Cold sweat sprang on her back, chilling her. She paused at the corner, glanced around, then drew back. Two uniformed women were posted by the entrance and two men were walking toward them. Military? Police? Members of the super secret organization? Whichever it was, they looked armed and trigger-happy.

Clutching her briefcase, she stepped back.

The plan of the area was clear in her mind. She began walking the streets directly around the block, squatting down to check the faces of the homeless, awkward on the heels. The cold breeze whipped her long hair across her face and she let it, keeping her gaze down.

No Finn yet, but she refused to let panic take hold. Finn was made of titanium. He’d survived terrible odds. And yet... ‘A bullet can kill us the same as you,’ he’d said.

Jesus, stop it. Keep walking, keep checking.

She weaved through the narrow streets and crossed another avenue, widening the perimeter. Another armored jeep rolled by, but didn’t stop. If Finn was there, it was all over. They’d find him before her.

Unless he’d moved. Unless he’d left for good. Maybe she’d never find him again.

Keep walking.

More alleys and people smoking in the sun outside cafes and restaurants, faces grim. She was crossing into unfamiliar territory now; she’d only walked this way when she wanted to buy flowers. She gave the flower shop a wide berth, sure the owner would recognize her, and kept going, checking any sheltered spot, writing down names, feeling her heart sink.

Stop moping. She thought of Finn, lying alone somewhere; thought of Norma, sick and frail as she was, waiting in her car. You’re a kick-ass secret agent, and people depend on you.

Lifting her chin, she set off again. Her feet were killing her and she longed for her hiking boots. The skirt didn’t let her walk fast, and she was sure she had mascara running down her cheeks mingled with sweat.

Wobbling on her heels, she tottered down yet another squalid street, where she was almost bowled over by a man reading his newspaper. He grumbled something unflattering under his breath and continued on his way. A policewoman in uniform gave her a funny look and turned to speak into her phone.

Ella kept a plastic smile on as she checked inside every building entrance, behind every dumpster. People stared but left her in peace. Three military in grey uniforms rounded a corner and cast her quick looks but didn’t stop.

Where are you, Finn? Maybe she should retrace her steps, see if she’d missed some clue.

Two avenues and three streets down, she was starting to believe her whole theory was wrong. Besides, she couldn’t walk anymore in those damn shoes, she was sure her toes were bleeding, and she could hear distant shouts and orders being yelled back and forth. The army would be here soon.

Her sleep-starved brain had let her down, leaping to random conclusions and leading her in wrong directions. If she could rest just for one minute—

A plain covered in snow, stretching to the blue mountains at the horizon.

The image withered, and she could see again. Out of balance she staggered, hitting a wall with her shoulder. She fought not to slide down. That was Finn; had to be. He was nearby.

Pushing off the wall, she patted her hair and hoped nobody had noticed her little jig. She glanced around. Which way?

Putting the clipboard back into the briefcase, she set off back the way she’d come, eyes on every possible hiding place, checking the forms curled under their blankets or ratty sleeping bags on the sidewalk.

Another image hit her, rattling her like a hammer blow. A dragon rising from the mist, huge wings unfolding, its snake-like neck undulating. A rider sat right behind the head, in a halo of light, a weapon in one hand. He bowed forward, weapon pointing, and the dragon swooped down, spitting scorching fire.

The image faded. Ella stumbled, dizzy, and fell against a passerby.

“Watch where you’re going,” he muttered, pushing her off, and she bent over, panting. Her briefcase had fallen to the ground. She reached for it, her hand shaking.

The air shimmered overhead, breaking into glittering shards, and through them something moved, something massive and white.

“Run!” she yelled, kicked off the shoes and launched into a sprint. An opening between two buildings caught her eye and she ducked into it, skidding. She crouched low and peeked outside.

A deafening screech sounded, and she saw a dragon’s head and a huge wing writhe before they dropped with a horrible splat to the asphalt. The Gate fizzled and vanished.

Oh god. She leaned back against the grimy wall to catch her breath. It was over. The army would come now and cordon the area off, take everyone out.

Finn had to be close. Really, really close.

She turned around.

A dark shape huddled halfway into the alley, slumped behind the rail of a fire escape ladder. Could it be...?

Dammit, Ella, move. She pushed off the wall and ran to him, bare feet slapping on the dirty asphalt. The metallic tang of blood hit her as she dropped to her knees. A black bandana covered his head, and he was wrapped in a filthy blanket.

“Finn.” Her heart hammered. She shook his shoulder but he didn’t react. She cupped his face and lifted it toward the light.

He blinked, his eyes bloodshot and creased with fatigue and pain. He stared blankly at her.

Then he lifted his gun and pointed it at her face.

***

“Finn, can you hear me?” Ella didn’t dare move. The gun was aimed at her head, and although his hand shook, she wasn’t reassured; if anything, his finger might slip on the trigger. “It’s me, Ella.”

Finn didn’t react. He had that vacant expression in his eyes she’d come to recognize. Flashback. At least he was awake, and that meant no Gates.

“Put down your gun and report,” she barked. “Status.”

The change was instantaneous. His eyes widened and the gun lowered until it slithered from his fingers to the ground. “Sar,” he wheezed, his teeth clenched. “Daudr.”

Death.

“No-one’s dying,” she snapped, and he jerked. “We need to move out, right now. Stand up.”

When she stood and reached down for him, he caught her hand and heaved himself up.

Choking on a cry, face going ghost-white, he dropped back down and curled an arm around his middle. She crouched down and tried to pry his arm away to see the damage but his muscles were locked, his face twisted. He hunched over, shaking. It tore at her heart.

Shouting came from right outside the alley, orders bouncing back and forth. Shit. “Finn, get up. Please.”

He didn’t look up. She lifted his arm around her shoulders and hooked her own around his waist. “We’re in enemy territory. You need to keep quiet.”

Without waiting for acknowledgment, she braced herself and hauled him upright. His arm tightened convulsively around her shoulders, his fingers digging into her muscle with bruising force, but the only sound that escaped him was a tiny moan.

She stepped toward the other exit of the alley, and he stumbled along. He was biting his lower lip, she realized, hard enough to draw blood.

It wouldn’t be long before the army thought to look into the alley. But a few more steps and Finn’s legs started to buckle, dragging them both down.

Christ. Desperately she tried to stay upright. She expected to be stopped at any moment, expected the impact of bullets in her back. “Finn, dammit, we need to keep going.”

His breath coming in short, shallow gasps, he lifted his head. His face was white as milk. Sweat rolled down his face and dripped from his chin.

“Keep walking, soldier.” What was that Norse word? “Drengr.” Warrior.

“At your command,” he breathed. Slowly, shaking with the effort, he drew himself upright.

“Come,” she choked out and led him to the end of the alley, their way painfully slow, the army breathing down their neck.

The muscles in her shoulders burned and she was drenched in sweat. Her whole focus was on getting him out of the alley, memories of the first time she’d saved him from the Shades flashing through her mind like blades.

She had a plan. Get him out, reach Norma’s car. Keep it simple. Just one foot in front of the other, Finn’s heart beating frantically against her side, her hand around his waist measuring his every labored breath.

A car zoomed past, scaring the shit out of her. She took a step back, dragging Finn with her, doing her best not to jolt him more but he grunted, his breath catching.

Cars. An avenue, not yet blocked by the military. Oh yeah, baby. Carefully she ducked under Finn’s arm and held his shoulders, steadying him. He gave her a dazed look. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

He wavered when she let go of him. Heart in her throat, she ran into the street, waving her arms at the first taxi she saw. “Stop!” she yelled. “Stop!”

When the taxi pulled up at the sidewalk, she jogged back, her bare feet freezing on the asphalt, and grabbed Finn who seemed to be standing by sheer force of will. She guided him into the taxi and ignored the driver’s frown in favor of settling Finn inside.

Glancing through the rear window, she saw officers burst through the alley mouth, machine guns drawn. “The parking lot behind the Carlston Mall,” she told the driver, proud her voice sounded steady. “As fast as you can. This place’s a real nightmare.”

Which was, after all, the truth.

Chapter Four

Deep

“Let me have a look at the wound.” Ella tried to wrestle Finn’s hand off his side but he didn’t seem to hear her. Sweat rolled down his face. He shivered under the ratty blanket wrapped around his shoulders and his other hand clenched in the brown cloth.

Relief intertwined with worry. No matter how tough Finn was, he seemed to be in serious pain, and her hands were sticky with his blood.

“Is he okay?” the driver called, his face looking concerned in the rear-view mirror. “Should I take you to a hospital?”

He should, but of course that was out of the question. “Carlston Mall,” she repeated. The gun was cold against her flesh, tucked inside the waistband of the skirt.

The driver shrugged, a tense gesture, and said nothing more.

“Finn.” Ella pried Finn’s hand from the blanket and held it. “Talk to me. Did you stop the bleeding?”

His eyes tracked nothingness as they drove through the city center. He hadn’t even glanced outside. At least he was conscious, no Gates were opening, and he hadn’t drawn any of his knives on her.

Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she stared forward and hoped to god Norma was still waiting for them, and that she knew how to help.

The Mall loomed at the side of the avenue and she directed the driver to the back where the largest parking lot was. It was still early in the morning, and few cars were there. She spotted Norma’s battered black sedan and almost groaned in relief.

Quickly she paid the taxi and went around to help Finn. The driver, bless him, also came to give a hand, but Finn didn’t make any move to get out of the car.

“Are you sure about the hospital?” the driver muttered. “He doesn’t look too good.”

“Adramar,” Finn hissed, eyes intent on something she couldn’t see.

Adramar was the elven queen. What was he remembering?

“Just give us a moment,” Ella said and crouched by the open car door.

“Ella?” Norma was approaching them, and Ella cringed at the loud use of her name. She really hoped the taxi driver hadn’t been watching the news that morning.

“Hey.” Ella placed a hand on Finn’s leg. “Come on, we’re almost there. We need to move.” She was babbling, hoping something hit home. “Drengr. Get out.”

Just like the first time, the word seemed to get through, and Finn turned his head. “Visi.”

Commander. Or something like that. “Yeah, yeah.” She forced her voice into colder tones. “Move it, Finn. We’re waiting for you.”

“What’s wrong with him?” Norma whispered from behind, but Ella didn’t turn. She held a hand out.

He took it. His fingers were slippery with fresh blood. Jesus. His gaze flicked up to her and he froze. “Ella?”

“Yeah, that’s me.” She cleared her throat, her voice inexplicably thick. “You need to get up. It’ll hurt.”

He was still staring at her, jaw slack, as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Maybe it was like sleepwalking, she thought, waking up to find you were someplace else than you had been a second ago. Damn confusing.

“We need to go,” she said again, gently. “You have to get out of the car.”

He looked down at his lap, then around the car. The driver, who had gotten back inside, gave him a nervous smile. Finn nodded and lifted one foot out, then struggled with his bad leg.

“Oh for god’s sake, let me help.” Norma huffed and wedged herself between Ella and Finn. For someone so frail-looking, she sure was strong. She lifted Finn’s leg out of the car and straightened it, then bent it again at the knee. “There you go, young man.”

Finn was doing a good imitation of a fish. “Norma?”

The old woman grinned. “In the flesh. We’re gonna get you back on your feet in a flash, my boy, just wait and see.”

Finn swallowed hard. A strand of hair had escaped the bandana and stuck to his cheek, dark with sweat. “You shouldn’t... You’re...” He couldn’t seem to find the words.

Norma took pity. “You’re family to me, Finn. You didn’t think I’d help you? Come on out now, let’s get you to a safer place.”

He tried. His legs trembled, his face went white, and he sank back down with groan.

Heart clenching, Ella motioned Norma aside. “Let me.” She waited until Finn looked up again. He was blinking back tears. She was going to kill Dave for this. “We’ll do this slowly. Hold on to me.”

It took some maneuvering, Finn hissing and cursing, until he was upright and leaning against the car. He coughed and cursed again, face twisting in a grimace.

Again wondering how the hell he’d survived, afraid to question it too much in case she jinxed it, Ella wrapped an arm around him and led him toward Norma’s car. She could hear the old woman telling the taxi driver everything was okay, then paying and sending him on his way.

Finn kept his head down, limping along. Blood soaked Ella’s shirt where their bodies touched. If he’d managed to staunch the hemorrhage before, moving about had obviously restarted it.

Ella opened the car door. “We’ll get painkillers for you,” she said as he lowered himself inside, eyes scrunching shut. “I promise.”

“What he needs is a doctor,” Norma grumbled, practically shoving Ella aside and getting into Finn’s face. “I know a clinic about halfway between here and Jamesville. Show me the wound, boy.”

To Ella’s surprise, Finn didn’t glower or flinch. He sat still and let Norma push back the blanket and peel his jacket open. His shirt was drenched in blood and when Norma pulled it up, Ella saw the entry hole of the bullet.

Dear god, it was right under his heart. The ghostly pain bloomed in her ribcage again and it was all she could do not to moan.

“We can’t take him to a clinic,” she said.

“Why not?”

How about because he’s an elf? “The police will also be looking for him,” Ella said instead.

“Well, it can’t be helped.” Norma reached around Finn, to his back. “I can’t feel an exit wound,” she muttered. “Bullet’s still inside and only with x-rays will we be able to tell if it needs to be removed or not and whether he has any internal injuries.”

Bullet. Internal injuries. She still hadn’t saved him; he could still die. Ice closed around her chest.

“We need to stop the bleeding.” Ella dug out the medical supplies from her backpack. She handed Norma gauze pads and watched as she pressed one to the wound.

Finn hissed, clawing at the gauze. Norma pushed his hand away as the first pad soaked through to crimson. She added another on top of it. “Broken ribs,” she said, shaking her head.

Ella had guessed as much. She tried to summon her limited medical knowledge. “Should we bind them?”

“No. He needs to be able to draw deep breaths or he may get pneumonia.” She pressed the pad until Finn gripped the car door so hard the metal groaned. “Strong painkillers will help.”

Ella had to keep reminding herself Norma was a nurse and knew what she was doing, had to resist shoving her out of the way to touch Finn, reassure herself he was alive.

Still so hard to believe.

The back of her neck prickled, and she turned around. About ten yards away, a woman sat in her car, staring. She flinched when she caught Ella’s gaze and lifted a phone to her ear.

“We need to go. Let me drive.” Ella dragged Norma up and sent her toward the other side of the sedan. “I think someone just recognized my face and called the cops.”

Finn caught Ella’s hand, pulling her down to his eye level, and damn but his grip was like steel even when he looked about to pass out. “What’s your plan?” he asked hoarsely.

Plan? Oh right, the plan. “To get you out of here alive,” she said and found a grin for him. “Seems to be working so far.”

He grunted and let go, glowering.

She sat behind the wheel, a weight lifting off her chest. A grumpy Finn. He had to be feeling better.

Yeah, definitely a good sign. At last.

***

Ten minutes later, Ella didn’t feel like smiling and wasn’t so sure about good signs anymore. Police sirens hounded them as she sped through the suburbs. She thought she’d lost them for a moment, but that hadn’t lasted long.

“Slow down, dear,” Norma said, a hand pressed to her chest. “This is too fast for me.”

Oh shit. Her heart. “I can’t.” Maybe she should leave Norma with Finn someplace and lead the police far from them. But where? Finn needed a doctor and — oh hell, another police car was coming from a side street to cut them off.

She spun the wheel and they skidded sideways, barely avoiding a parked car. She turned into another street.

Norma was panting, as if she couldn’t get enough air.

“Hey.” Ella spared her a glance as she sped down the quiet road. “Breathe. Everything will be okay.”

“Slow down.” Norma clutched her chest, face pale. “Please, slow down.”

Shit shit shit. Ella gripped the wheel tighter, not to slam her hand on it and howl in frustration.

“What’s going on?” Finn asked, gripping the back of her seat. “Norma?”

Ella grabbed Norma’s bag. “Do you have a mobile phone?”

She passed the bag to Finn who rummaged inside, cursing. The sirens returned. She swerved into another side street, heading back the way they’d come.

How she wished she’d listened to Mike and created some sort of code for cases of emergency. How had the little shit known something like this would happen? She shook her head, then noticed that Norma was making little gasping noises.

Please, don’t die on me.

Slowing down again, she twisted and grabbed the phone Finn had unearthed. She punched in Mike’s number. Desperate measures.

The phone rang and rang, and then there was a click on the other end.

“Mike?” She turned into another street, keeping her metaphoric fingers crossed it would take them back the way they’d come, although now she had a different destination in mind.

“Ella?” Mike hissed into the phone. “Are you crazy?”

Ella thought about this. “Yeah,” she said. “And yeah.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes. Well, not really. Finn—”

“Are you hurt? Where are you?”

Damn, if Dave was there with a gun at Mike’s head... “We need a doctor. It’s urgent. Norma isn’t doing so well. And Finn was shot.”

“Who isn’t...? Who’s Norma? And what do you mean Finn was shot?”

“Shot. With a gun. Through the chest.” Ella swerved rather wildly to avoid a pedestrian and heard another rasping gasp from Norma. “We need a surgeon, Mike, and a cardiologist. Is there a clinic with people you can trust?”

“Not sure, I’ll just have — Stop this, give it back!”

“Mike?” Ella frowned. “What’s going on?”

“Hi,” a female voice said. “I know a place. It’s in Bellevue.”

Ella blinked. “You’re...”

“Sarah. I got Mike before your robotic boss found him. We’ve been waiting to hear from you.”

Thank god. “Great. We’re on our way.” She hung up and shoved the phone into her pocket. She squared her shoulders and sent a brief prayer heavenward. “Everything’s gonna be okay.”

***

She’d spoken too soon. She should have known better.

A police car had come out of the blue, its sirens blaring behind them, Norma was turning sort of blue in the face, and Finn rattled the door handle as if he was about to throw himself out — and she had no doubt he would, only she didn’t think he’d survive it.

“Finn! Stay put.”

A crack rang out and she ducked instinctively. A gunshot?

“Stop.” Finn rattled the door handle again. “Ella, stop the car!”

Dammit. Ella slammed her hand on the steering wheel, and of course it had to be her bandaged hand. Pain tore a groan from her throat and sent sparkling lights dancing in her eyes. “Can’t. The police are sniffing our ass.”

Norma slumped in her seat, her head rolling. Freaking hell.

“Is she okay?” Finn wheezed.

“I don’t know. We’re going to a clinic. We’ll be there soon.” She dived into Harley Avenue and then shot out into Cardiff Way, relieved when the police sirens faded in the distance. “We’re almost there.”

The clinic was a square white building set among dark office towers. She wasn’t sure there was an emergency entrance and she couldn’t take the time to find out. She drove right up to the front, parked the car and rushed around to get Norma.

“Are you okay?” She unbuckled Norma’s seatbelt and patted her cheek. “Come on, let’s go inside.” Norma looked pale and shaky, her breathing too fast. Ella hauled her out, steadying her with an arm around her waist, but Norma began slipping from her grasp, going lax. “Norma!”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Finn struggle out of the car as she followed Norma down, trying to break her fall. She laid the old woman on the concrete, her mind going shitshitshitshit this can’t be happening.

“Was she shot?” Finn croaked. “Is she dead?”

“I don’t know.” There was no blood. Ella checked for a pulse, and couldn’t find one. Her hands shook. “She said she had problems with her heart.”

Finn slid down to his knees, pale hair spilling from the bandana, catching the morning light. He bent over. She’d never seen such grief on his face before, except perhaps in a dream — a little boy throwing himself at a glass coffin.

She turned back to Norma, tried again to find a pulse. Failed.

Finn moaned. The air around him cracked into shiny panels. His hair lifted in a spiraling wind as the cracks widened, filling with shimmering, shifting light. It was hauntingly beautiful, oddly fascinating.

Then he opened his eyes. Silver fire played in their cores.

Ella jerked back. Christ, he was opening a Gate. She’d never seen him do it, never so close to him, right where he knelt. He was breaking the Veil to pieces.

She grabbed his arm, and fire jolted up her shoulder, making her gasp. “Finn, stop.” She shook him. “You have to stop!”

He blinked and the silver light vanished. The air around him stilled. His chin dipped to his chest.

His magic thrived on pain, the book had said. He’d been in a lot of physical pain since she’d met him, but had never reacted like this. Not pain, then. Sorrow.

She was staring at his bowed head, trying to figure this bit of the puzzle out, when a nurse came running out of the clinic.

“What happened?” She waved at two orderlies who trooped out with a stretcher on wheels.

“She just dropped,” Ella said, her throat tight. “She said she had a weak heart.”

Finn gripped Ella’s arm, fingers digging in sharply, as Norma was lifted to the stretcher. “Is she alive?” he rasped.

The nurse glanced at him, on his knees, covered in blood and dirt, and her eyes widened. “Bring another stretcher!” she bellowed, turned and disappeared inside the building.

Chapter Five

Bone

“The bullet broke two ribs,” the doctor explained. “Broken ribs are not a major issue, they’ll fix themselves on their own with lots of rest.”

He spoke slowly, as if to a child, but Ella was grateful for it, and for his use of simple words. Her head still buzzed with adrenaline and a night spent running and despairing and hoping, only to start the cycle all over again.

A needle dripped serum, painkillers and antibiotics into Finn’s arm. Testing Finn’s blood type to check compatibility with a donor was out of the question. So she’d spoken against a transfusion and the doctor had reluctantly agreed.

Sarah had arrived with Mike and between the two of them they’d hidden the car and somehow arranged the paperwork. No questions asked. Still, Ella avoided looking at the doctor. She stared instead at Finn. A transparent plastic tube tucked under his nose delivered oxygen. His fingers were wrapped around hers, and blue showed under his pale lashes. He was awake. She squeezed his hand, a wave of protectiveness and fear rolling inside her.

“What about the bullet?” she asked.

“It’s lodged in the rib bone. There are some bone fragments we should remove. Your friend was very lucky. The book he carried inside his jacket, and the leather strap of the holster he was wearing slowed down the bullet. Though I have to say I’m impressed by the strength of his bones. And by his luck.” The doctor’s brows lifted. “Had the bullet hit him any higher, it would have found his heart.”

Ella shuddered. It was only appropriate that John Grey’s saga had saved John Grey’s life.

Finn didn’t bat a lid. Then again, his eyes had slid shut. She shook his hand. “Hey, wake up.”

“He needs to rest,” the doctor said, frowning.

And let him open a Gate right inside the hospital? No way in hell. Not even Sarah could get them out of that sticky mess. “He’ll want to hear what we’re discussing, since it’s about him.” She shook him again. “Hey.”

Finn blinked, breath catching. “Norma,” he wheezed. “Where is she?”

“She’ll be fine.” Actually, she was in the intensive-care unit, but if Ella told Finn the truth, she was sure he’d get up and go find her, even if he died in the process.

“We need to remove the bullet and the fragments,” the doctor was saying. “They’re close to major arteries. It’s a simple surgery, very straightforward.”

Simple for humans, but for elves? “Is it a serious surgery? Do you have to use full anesthesia?”

The doctor narrowed his eyes at her. He was young, his dark hair short, his faded blue eyes serious. “It should be quite straightforward. Bullet’s close to the surface, palpable under the skin, the fragments, too. Why? Does he have a history of adverse reaction to anesthetic?”

Ella bit her lip, wondering what to say — what would be best for Finn. She only hoped Sarah could handle the doctor and his staff, make sure Finn’s identity wouldn’t be revealed during surgery.

“Will he feel anything if you use local anesthetic?”

The doctor hesitated. “Probably not.”

She winced. Didn’t want Finn in any more pain. “Will he dream if you put him under?”

The doctor frowned. “Normally not, but patients do report dreams occasionally.”

That settled it. If more Gates opened, she couldn’t protect anyone in her tired state. “Local anesthetic it is.” She took a deep breath. “As soon as possible. We can’t stay long.”

The doctor’s frown deepened and he opened his mouth, no doubt to retort that Finn couldn’t take off in his state, but Sarah walked in, her high heels tapping a muted staccato on the yellow linoleum floor.

“Is everything okay?” She glanced at Finn on the bed, then Ella, before turning her attention to the doctor. “Dr. Evans, thank you for helping us out once again.”

Ella quirked a brow.

“They’ve been working with the Organization for a hundred years now,” Sarah said, smiling. “They are our trusted people.”

Ella’s brain was particularly slow that morning, but now it froze to a stop. Wait. If they collaborated with the Organization, they might inform Dave of the new arrivals at the clinic.

“Sarah, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.” Sarah nodded at the doctor. “From what I caught from your conversation, the surgery should be quick, so why don’t you get started while we talk outside.”

“No, I need to be there.” Ella nudged Finn’s arm and he opened his eyes. He kept falling asleep — or passing out, and she wasn’t sure which was scarier. “Don’t start without me.”

The doctor didn’t look happy but only shrugged. “I’ll get him prepped.”

***

“How’s Norma?” Ella walked a few steps down the corridor, past two nurses who were discussing notes on a clipboard. “Is she out of critical care?”

“Not yet.” Sarah nodded at an open window. “Mind if I smoke? Helps calm my nerves.”

Sarah looked perfectly calm, in Ella’s opinion. In fact, she looked as if she’d just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine, whereas Ella looked as if she’d dropped out of a particularly bad B-rated movie. She glanced down at her filthy, blood-covered shirt, her legs streaked with mud, her bare feet. A shiver wracked her.

Pushing grimy strands of hair behind her ears, she followed Sarah to the open window. “I can’t thank you enough for saving our asses.” She leaned against the wall, closing her eyes for a long, blissful moment. “Where’s Mike?”

“Grabbing us all some coffee.” Sarah pulled a slim cigarette from a white pack and lit it. She offered the pack to Ella who shook her head.

“So spill.” Sarah drew on her cigarette, her cat-like eyes half-closing. “What the hell happened? Who shot the cutie-pie?”

Cutie-pie? Ella rubbed her face. Her eyes stung as if they had sand in them, and her arm burned. She tried not to think about the snarling pain in her slashed hand. Blood had seeped through the bandage, making her fingers sticky.

How much could she tell Sarah? “Dave, my boss, shot him.”

“Dave, the Dark elf robot of doom?”

Ella nodded, chewing on her lip. “He came into my apartment and tried to shoot me. Finn got in the way.” There. Sounded plausible, didn’t it?

“Do you think your boss got wind of our investigation about him?”

Ella shrugged and looked out. A trim garden spread below, surrounded by the wards of the clinic. The sun shone, hurting her eyes, and the lawn was so green it looked plastic.

“He can’t know Finn is here. He’s looking for us.”

“Yeah, saw your face on the news.” Sarah tsked. “Mike was frantic with worry when I went to pick him up.”

“I didn’t know you and Mike knew each other.” Ella frowned at the garden. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?”

“Can you blame a girl?” Sarah shrugged. “The Shades may say many obscure things, but I’ve always listened to them. The habit’s hard to break.”

Ella said nothing. Sarah thought she was working for John Grey, and for the first time she couldn’t deny it. “Where’s Mike? Why haven’t I seen him yet?” Her hand inched toward the grip of Finn’s gun, tucked in her waistband. “What have you done to him?”

“What are you talking about?” Sarah muttered. “I said he’s getting us some coffee.”

“Really.” Ella opened her mouth to demand Mike be brought there, when footsteps sounded behind them.

“Ella!” Mike sounded relieved, and when Ella turned, she saw he held three paper cups filled with steaming coffee. “Sarah told me you were okay but you know, until I saw you with my own eyes...” He grinned.

Sarah winked.

Christ.

At least Mike was okay. Ella moved her hand away from the gun and accepted a paper cup. “You shouldn’t give me this stuff. I’ll be climbing the walls in five minutes’ time.”

“You look like you need something stronger than tea,” Mike said, his grin wilting. “Where’s Finn?”

Ella clutched the cup so tightly it began to cave in. “Being prepped for a surgery to remove the bullet. He’s going to be okay,” she rushed to say when Mike paled. “He was lucky.” She took a sip of coffee — Mike had thoughtfully added sugar to the bitter liquid — and tried to calm herself. It was going to be fine. Once the bullet was out and she was sure Finn was all right, they’d be able to leave.

And go where? Would Sarah keep helping them?

“Has your boss gone raving mad?” Mike swallowed half his coffee in a gulp and made a face. “Oh shit. Don’t tell me he found out about Finn.”

About Finn. Right.

Oh fuck.

Ella took an instinctive step back. Shit, she was way too slow today. Her head felt like a bag of rocks.

“What about Finn?” Sarah’s face hardened. She glanced from Mike to Ella, full mouth downturned. “What about him?”

Mike’s eyes widened. Yeah, pal, Sarah hadn’t known Finn was aelfr. Way to put your foot in your mouth.

“He’s one of them, isn’t he?” Sarah’s coffee hit the floor, scalding liquid flying, and drew her gun on Ella in one swift movement. “An elf. Which is why Dave shot him.”

Mike groaned, his eyes huge. He gestured frantically at Sarah. “What are you doing?”

Ella took a deep breath, trying to still the trembling in her hands. She held them out to the sides. “Finn has done nothing to you. He saved your life once.”

“You,” Sarah nodded at Mike, her gaze stony, “you’ve known. Both of you kept this secret — for how long?”

Ella glanced toward Finn’s door. “I swear, if you do anything to harm either of them...”

Sarah puffed in annoyance. “Talk or I’ll shoot you. I’m not kidding around.”

Ella swallowed. Maybe if she gave Sarah something, she’d back off. Besides, being an elf wasn’t a crime, was it? “Yeah, okay, you guessed right. He’s an elf. He crossed over when the first Gate opened. And he’s been fighting on our side ever since. I swear it.” She played her trump card. “I swear it on Simon.”

Sarah’s gun wavered, then dipped a little. “God. An elf.”

“You’re not going to kill him, are you?” Ella’s heart was trying to pound its way out of her chest.

“Because you love him?” Sarah drawled. “Elves are the enemy. Why should I spare him?”

“Look.” Ella struggled to keep her voice low. “We’re trying to stop the Gates from forming, and Finn is our ally. What’s so hard to understand about this? Is your secret organization interested in slaughtering elves or in protecting the Gates?”

Sarah’s eyes narrowed. “You swear Finn’s on our side?”

“Yes.”

“Cross your heart and hope to die?”

“Fuck this,” Ella muttered. “I’m not in a good mood, okay? I haven’t slept all night, have been worried sick about Finn and Norma, and I’m not sure whether you’re about to put a bullet through me or if you’re just having fun.”

“Yeah, I’m having a blast,” Sarah snapped. “What do you think?”

“Just say what you want me to do.”

Sarah lowered her gun. “I swear, if you’re keeping anything else from me...” She let the threat hang in the air. “Run along now, go check on cutie-pie. I’ll keep an eye out for Dave Holborn.”

Leery of Sarah’s sudden acquiescence, Ella nodded. “Don’t shoot me in the back, okay? I hate that.”

Sarah sighed. “Look, my family has belonged to the Organization for generations. I’m sworn to protecting the Gates at any cost. Perhaps you don’t realize what an elven invasion is like, but I assure you it won’t be pretty.” She ran her fingers through her fringe. “If you’re telling me the truth about where your loyalty lies, I’m on your side.”

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Ella muttered, too exhausted to care about pissing Sarah off more. She turned around and headed toward Finn’s room. “Next time try asking without pulling a gun on me.”

***

“Here is the culprit,” the doctor said, words muffled behind the surgical mask. The bullet clanked into the metal bowl the nurse offered him, amidst the bone shards he’d already pulled out. He wiped his hands on a paper towel and picked up a curved needle, threaded with black. “Almost done now.”

Ella shifted her hold on Finn’s shoulder to get a better look at his face. The tightness around his eyes and mouth told her he was uncomfortable, but for all she knew he could be in agonizing pain or feeling the merest of twinges.

Finn the Sphinx.

The doctor bent over Finn’s chest. It was a map of battles: the long scar from his heart to his abdomen, the pink, fresh scars in his side, old white scars and new, dark bruises mottling his ribs. He looked strong even lying on the surgery table covered to his hips, a bleeding slice under his heart which the doctor was now stitching. Strong and yet drained, thin and exhausted.

Meanwhile, outside the surgery room, Sarah was an unknown factor, Norma barely hung onto life, and Mike thought he knew what Finn was, but really he didn’t, while Dave roamed the city, searching for them.

How far and how fast could they run like this? Where would they go? How long until Finn couldn’t keep awake any longer — and she was sure he’d done his best to keep awake until now — and opened another Gate, bringing the Organization and the army on their asses, not to mention the elves?

“All done,” the doctor said, his voice jolting her. The nurse was taping gauze over Finn’s chest and wiping the blood that had run down the sides.

She didn’t want to see any more of Finn’s blood. Didn’t want to see him hurt or unconscious ever again. She didn’t think her heart could take it.

The nurse wheeled Finn out and Ella hastened to follow, pulling the mask off her face and taking a deep breath of stale air, heavy with antiseptic. At least Finn was out of immediate danger, but she should check on Norma. Finn’s sanity seemed linked to her well-being.

Ella padded barefoot behind the stretcher, ignoring the stares from nurses they came across. God, what she wouldn’t give for a shower and a bed. She’d scrubbed down in order to be let into the surgery, but hadn’t had time for anything else.

After Finn had been transferred to a bed and made comfortable, she waited until the nurse had replaced the needle pumping painkillers into him, checked the bandage over the wound, and left the room. The door closed.

“Finn.” Ella touched his face and his gaze found her. His eyes were clouded with the drugs. “Stay awake. Please try. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He licked his lips; they were cracked and dry. He blinked at her sleepily. His breathing was easing out.

Shit.

“Did you hear me?” She stroked a strand of silky hair off his face and he leaned into her touch. The knot in her throat made it hard to breathe. “I’ll just check on Norma and get my clothes and hiking boots from the car.”

She practically ran out of the room. Outside she found Mike waiting. He was shifting from foot to foot, a worried expression on his face. “How is he?”

“It went well, I think,” Ella muttered, exhausted. “Will you stay with him? I need to change clothes.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t let him sleep. Can you handle that?”

Mike flinched, and she sighed. Yeah, she was angry with him for letting slip what Finn’s was, and she was too tired to hide it. “Sorry, buddy. Of course you can. I won’t be gone long.”

Down the hall, she found Sarah leaning against the wall, arms folded. Finn’s favorite position. She quirked a brow at Ella and followed her toward the stairs.

“What do you want?” Ella snapped.

“How’s cutie-pie?”

“Fine.”

“You don’t look relieved.”

Ella whirled on her. “What do you want? Are we best buddies now, because you didn’t give us in? Or is it because you spared my life?” God, her arm hurt and she felt light-headed. A shiver shook her.

“I came when you called,” Sarah said. “Isn’t that what a friend would do?”

Ella lifted her hands, exasperated, and continued toward the intensive-care unit. “Remember I want to stop the elves from invading as much as you do.”

“Pillow talk is the best way to get insider information, I’ll bet.”

“Is this supposed to be funny? Aren’t you supposed to be still in mourning over Simon?” Ella stomped down the stairs. “What’s with the chipper mood?”

“Hey, life goes on. Right now I’ve got an invasion to worry about. That doesn’t mean I’m not sad Simon’s gone.”

“I didn’t know sorrow was so easy to hide.”

“And I didn’t know one could lie for so long with such a straight face,” Sarah said. “Living with an elf, working with him. I’m impressed.” Sarah skipped down the steps and turned, cornering her. Her eyes blazed. “You’ve told me the whole truth, right?”

“Yes.” Dammit, she was tired.

“Nobody else can help you, you know that, right? Your boss, the police and the army are after you. You say you want to stop the invasion. I could make a difference if only you’d tell me what you know.”

“And what it is you think I know?” Ella muttered, defeated.

“Look, I’ve locked this building, made sure nobody walks out of here without me knowing, no phones or internet or smoke signals can be sent out.” Sarah gestured at the staircase. “Simon trusted you with his life.”

“And I failed him.”

“Nonsense.” Sarah sighed. “Simon was no oracle, but he could read people well. He trusted you, so you must be a good person. And a good person wouldn’t open the Gates to the elves.”

Ella pressed her lips thin. “You sound like a shrink.”

“Is it working?” Sarah leaned back on the rail, lifting a dark brow. “Be straight with me. Is there anything else I should know?”

Just like Dave always asked her. And she always lied, as she was about to do now. “No, there’s nothing else.”

“Right.” Sarah shrugged. “Just so you know, this was your last chance. If I catch cute-pie aiding his fellow elves in any way...” She raised an imaginary gun and pulled the trigger.

Ella shuddered and swallowed hard. Right. Dave’s way of dealing with it. “Gotcha. Now get out of my way.”

Chapter Six

Time

Norma’s condition was the same: still critical. Ella couldn’t tell Finn that, not now. More lies. Always more, a whole damn web ensnaring her.

Sarah brought up Ella’s clothes and hiking boots from Norma’s car. All helpful and friendly, but Ella couldn’t forget she’d threatened to kill Finn.

If she knew...

Ella tied the laces, trying not to worry about it. She had no choice but to accept Sarah’s help. Hey, nobody else was offering.

“Have you found anything on your boss?” Sarah was checking a painted fingernail for any chipping. “This Bran Hoodvild or whatever his name was, is it really David Holborn? And have you managed to get a DNA sample?”

“No, I...” Ella started toward the stairs. She had to get back to Finn, make sure he was awake. “I saw it, though.”

“Saw what?” Sarah hurried along, her heels clicking.

“The seam. The cogs and spirals.” Ella climbed the steps, her legs heavy. “He’s a Guardian alright, a stinking robot.”

“Are you serious?”

From the incredulity in Sarah’s voice, Ella realized the woman had been playing along without really believing any of it.

Probably still didn’t.

“Look, I know what I saw,” she said as she reached the landing. Her head swam. “Believe what you want.”

“Well, if you’re right, your boss is protecting the Gates, and if he shot Finn, that would mean Finn is helping open the Gates.”

“No,” Ella bit out the word, hurrying along the corridor. “Dave’s an idiot and this is all a misunderstanding.” Damn, she had to change the topic.

Then a woman screamed from the direction of Finn’s room, and Ella ran, drawing her gun.

She burst inside, gun pointed. Familiar darkness writhed in one side of the room, and the coppery smell of fresh blood hit her before she saw the body. A bleeding nurse, a goblin bent over her, while a troll was pulling Finn from the bed. She shot the creature in the head and bared her teeth in a savage grin when it shook and petered out, leaving Finn to fall back on the bed.

Mike had backed into a corner, holding out a chair as if that would stop the Shades, his eyes flicking around at the sounds of creatures he couldn’t see.

A Shade stirred on the floor, and she put a bullet through it, waited until it vanished back into the Veil. Iron, my man. Rusts your insides. When she was sure nothing else was lurking, she returned to Finn’s side.

He was hanging over the bed, his eyes wild. She holstered the gun and hauled him back against the pillows.

“Are you all right?” She checked that the needle hadn’t come out and that he wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t looking at her; though. He was staring at something over her shoulder, his hands twisting in the covers.

She turned her head. The air rippled like glittering glass. A form floated in it, familiar by now — an elven lady with flowing silver hair, beckoning. White moths flitted around her, catching in her hair, and as Ella watched, three butterflies flew out of the Gate and danced in circles in the room. They glowed like stars.

“Faen,” Finn swore with feeling and his hands twitched, as if seeking his knives.

He’d fallen asleep. She knew it might happen, and hadn’t been there, and now...

“Holy shit,” Sarah said from behind and Ella whirled, drawing her gun, but too late, always too late — Sarah had her semi-automatic trained on Finn.

Freaking hell.

“Drop your gun,” Sarah said coolly. “I told you I’d kill him if he worked for the other side, and this... goddamn, that’s a Gate, isn’t it?”

Ella’s finger shivered on the trigger. No way could she shoot Sarah before she shot Finn, and she really didn’t think Finn could survive another bullet. Her mouth was dry with fear. “Don’t,” she whispered. “I have a plan. There’s no need for this.”

The Gate flickered but didn’t fade. The lady in its shining mirror reached out a hand, beckoning. “Isthelfinn,” she called, her voice like music.

Finn grimaced. White, glowing patterns writhed on his skin, and the air around him shimmered. Fear caused the lines; fear caused the Gates. Remove the fear and maybe the Gates would close.

Or make a mistake and get Finn killed.

“I have a plan,” Ella repeated, desperate. “Please, don’t shoot him.”

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, and the terrible thing was that she did look contrite. “I like your cutie-pie. But he’s John Grey and I can’t let him destroy the world.”

She sighted down the barrel.

“No!” Ella threw herself at Sarah, sure she’d die and not caring. Finn was yelling her name, and the room spun as she crashed into the other woman, sending her stumbling backward.

But no shot cracked.

They both staggered to a stop, Ella pressing her gun into Sarah’s side.

Sarah lifted her hands, her eyes round. A blade shone, pressed flat to her neck. One of Finn’s Bowie knives, Ella realized — but the man behind her wasn’t Finn.

“If you as much as twitch your finger on the trigger,” Mike said, face white and voice shaky but his hand steady on the grip of the knife, “I’ll kill you, I swear to god.”

Ella gaped as she pulled back, although she had the presence of mind to reach up and pluck the semi-automatic from Sarah’s fingers. She cocked the safety back on and breathed a long sigh of relief, scanning the room.

The Gate had vanished, thank god. The butterflies had perched on the white bed sheets, wings fluttering.

“Right, and what will you do now?” Sarah snapped. “Let him bring the elves into our world and make us their slaves? Is he worth it?”

“I said I have a plan,” Ella said. She’d underestimated Mike, but so had Sarah, thank god. “Nobody needs to die.”

In the descending silence, she heard wheezing breaths behind her. She whipped around.

Finn knelt on the floor next to the bed, his face a mask of pain. He had trouble breathing, his gasps loud in the small room. His lips had a blue tinge.

Shit.

Heart hammering in her chest, she gave Mike the gun. “Take Sarah to another room, bind her and gag her, for Christ’s sake. I’ll find the doctor.”

***

Finn was back on the bed, his face drawn, his breathing shallow but even. A hollow needle attached to a tube had been inserted between his ribs, and that seemed to help him breathe again.

“What happened?” Ella asked the doctor, her fingers tight around Finn’s. She brushed a strand of silky hair off his cheek, then tucked the bandana more securely over his ears.

“He must have made a sudden movement,” Dr. Evans said as he removed the needle from Finn’s side. “One of the broken ribs shifted and punctured the lung. He was lucky it happened here. The air leaking in the chest cavity was crushing his lung, not letting him breathe. We have aspirated the air, so he should be all right.”

Ella took all this in without lifting her eyes off Finn’s sweaty face. Her plans of moving him out of there immediately were useless, unless she kidnapped nurses to carry him on a stretcher and an ambulance.

Dammit.

“Where’s Miss Williams?” The doctor took a note on his clipboard and glanced around the room. The ichor had stained the linoleum floor and the doctor frowned, clearly wondering what had happened.

“Sarah?” Ella licked her lips. “She had some phone calls to make. She went out for a moment.”

The young doctor’s lips pressed together in a flat line. Ella tightened her hold on Finn’s hand, hoping he was relaxed and that no Gate would be opening with the doctor there to see it.

“I’ll stay here while he rests,” she said, her voice strangely firm and authoritative despite the dread churning inside. Finn needed her to be strong. She could do this.

“Fine. I’ll come back later to check on him.” He tapped the pen on his clipboard, still frowning, and left.

Ella sank into the chair by the bed and bent over Finn’s hand, resting her forehead on his fingers.

“Ella?” Finn rasped.

“Shush, everything’s okay,” she whispered and pulled on a smile for him as she raised her head. “Rest.”

“I fell asleep,” he murmured.

“Yeah. I know you’re tired. At least you didn’t dream of dragons this time.”

“Is that how he opens the Gates?” Mike asked, entering and closing the door behind him.

Finn stiffened and glanced up.

“With his nightmares,” Ella said. Her fault this had happened. She should have told Mike everything from the start. “His memories.”

“So what’s this plan of yours?” Mike approached the bed. “Maybe it’s time to start implementing it.”

Ella swallowed a sigh. “Thanks for taking care of Sarah. You saved our lives.”

“I told you you’re family to me,” Mike said. No winking, no teasing. Serious and somber. “Although I’m not sure what help that is if Dave finds us, and I doubt it’ll take him long to sniff us out.”

“And Scott?”

“The less he knows the better.” Mike avoided her eyes. He obviously felt guilty for leaving Scott out, for temporarily abandoning him, but he was right to keep him away from this mess. “He should be out of hospital later today.” He looked down at the knife he still held and put it down carefully on the metal table by the bed. He had Sarah’s gun tucked in his belt. “Ella, you do have a plan, right?”

“I said I do.” Fear made her palms clammy but she refused to wipe them and give herself away. Think, Ella, dammit, use that grey matter. Some hours of sleep would have helped clear her mind, but that wasn’t an option. She had to scrape up a plan, right here, right now, before Sarah freed herself and finished off what Dave had started.

Before she finished off Finn. She looked at him, lying there defenseless, trusting her to find a way out of this hell.

Mike cleared his throat.

Oh right. The plan.

“The Gates open when Finn has nightmares.” Ella licked dry lips. “When he’s afraid.”

Finn glared at her, his sharp cheekbones coloring.

That was how it worked, right? Though, a small voice in the back of her head piped in, he crossed over when he’d been wide awake — and what about the first time she’d found him with a Gate wide open, his mother talking to him?

“The dreams are old memories,” Ella forged on, “from when he was little.” Well, mostly. “Stress makes the nightmares worse.” She thought about it. “Emotional pain plays a role.” She frowned. “Finn, when I met you, you said you left Blackwater because the Shades were after you. When did the attacks start?”

Finn shook his head on the pillow. “Maybe two months ago,” he rasped. “It was after...”

“After Norma left?” Ella saw him grimace.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“What does this mean?” Mike frowned.

“What it means, Mike... is that I need to work on the details,” Ella hedged. “I have to talk some things over with you.”

“Details, huh?”

“I’ll find a way to fix this. Give me some time.”

“Time’s the one thing we don’t have,” Mike said, his face twisted in sympathy. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

***

Finn lay still, staring at the ceiling. His hands were fisted in the covers. She wanted to comfort him, to tell him everything would turn out okay, but why lie? She still hadn’t figured out how to save him. Clues, Ella. She had so many clues. Now she only had to find the answer.

Only that. Right.

“Ella?” Mike stood at the door, waiting.

Just the thought of moving, of thinking, made her want to weep with exhaustion. “Coming.”

She didn’t look at the bed as she got up and stepped outside, didn’t want to see the uncertainty and questions in Finn’s eyes. She felt uncertain enough on her own.

“What’s going on?” Mike hissed when she drew him out into the corridor, toward the window where she’d talked with Sarah not too long ago. “Is what Sarah says true? Is Finn this John Grey creature?”

Ella winced. ‘Creature’ sounded bad. “Yes, and I need your help to find a way to stop him from opening Gates.” She paused. “Killing him is not a solution in my book, okay?”

Mike scowled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Look, I have the mother of all headaches, and this hasn’t been my best week so far. But don’t insult me by insinuating I would stoop down to killing my friends because of some magic mumbo-jumbo.”

Ella realized her jaw was hanging slack. “Magic mumbo-jumbo? You’re an oracle. You know what’s going to happen if the Gates stabilize.” Then his words sank in. Mike considered Finn his friend.

Damn elf had won some hearts over, despite his dark glares and monosyllabic answers. It made Ella want to smile. “He’s not doing it on purpose,” she whispered. “Opening the Gates.”

“I know.”

“You really mean it?”

“Dude, honestly?” Mike muttered. “Finn saved my life quite a few times. Scott’s, too. He doesn’t strike me as someone hell-bent on destroying our world.” He hesitated. “Although all the good intentions in the world won’t help unless you know a way to cancel his magic.”

Didn’t Ella know it. If only it was that easy.

“What have you got?” Mike asked. “Where do we start?”

“Pain,” Ella said. It had to be the focal point of everything. “Fear. Instability and danger.”

“Come again?” Mike blinked.

“These feelings seem connected to Finn’s magic.” Ella slid down the wall to sit on the floor. She thunked her head back — gently. Her headache didn’t need any encouragement. “They lurk in the memories from his childhood, and are affected by the stress of running from the Shades and the white animals, the threat of the elves invading, and Dave coming after him. It’s a vicious cycle.”

“Then break the cycle.”

“Yeah, great idea. But how?” She massaged her temples. “The elves knew it, centuries ago. They said they caused him pain to feed his magic. But they also wed him to King Sirurd’s daughter, the Stabilizer, to increase his power.” She moved her hands over her face, to hide it. “I thought sending Finn away from me might be the solution. Maybe if I didn’t stabilize his portals, we’d all be safe.” Her eyes stung. Dammit. “But Dave said there are more Stabilizers in the world, and besides, there’s no guarantee it would work.”

“If you can’t remove the Stabilizer, remove the pain.” Mike was looking outside, at the garden. He did sound like an oracle, mysterious and giving useless advice.

“Yeah. Any ideas on how?” She wanted to scream and pound the floor with her fists. “How do I remove pain so deeply rooted? How do I remove the memories of all that’s happened to him?”

Mike sat down next to her. His jeans were ripped at the knees. Fashion statement, no doubt, not the result of a fight with Shades.

How the hell had she gotten him involved in this mess when she’d vowed to keep him out of it? She eyed him between her fingers, considered his determined expression.

She’d always thought of him as a little brother, ever since they’d become neighbors two years back, but the man she saw now was someone of great strength, taking disaster in his stride, and never unsure about the important stuff.

Like the people he cared about. What to be angry about and what to ignore. What to do. She was so lucky to be his friend. She lowered her hands from her face, reached out and squeezed his shoulder.

He patted her hand. “You’re important, you know. In all this.”

She scrunched up her face. “I know. Stabilizing and shit.”

“No, I don’t mean that.” He gave her an earnest look. “I mean for Finn. He doesn’t seem sad when he’s around you. He seems happy.”

Cheeks growing warm, Ella dropped her hand. “I’m glad.”

“And I’m serious. His magic seems to be wild right now. He cannot control it. When he’s in pain, he lashes out with it and opens Gates. What if you take away that pain by making him happy?” Mike shrugged. “Well, happier. If he feels happy and safe with you, his magic won’t work.”

“The times he sleeps next to me, he sleeps well, but then he has nightmares and...” She fisted her hands. “And then the Gates open all the way and let through all those animals. In his dreams, he’s not safe, or happy.”

“But you could change that.”

“How can I change his dreams? They’re memories.”

“Memories aren’t set in stone. They’re malleable. Haven’t you followed any of the recent research on the topic?”

Now she was starting to feel like a scolded schoolgirl. She shook her head. “I thought I shared his dreams for a reason, but so far I can’t figure it out.”

Silence descended, thick and tense. Mike gaped at her.

Oh. Oh. “I didn’t tell you this, did I?”

“That you share Finn’s dreams?” Mike cursed softly. “People usually share bank accounts, a car, a house. Aren’t you overdoing it a little?”

Ella tried hard not to snort. The world was ending, Finn was recovering from a bullet in the chest, and she was about to go into hysterics. “You know everything I know. Any ideas?”

“You share Finn’s dreams. Wow...” Mike sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. He scratched at the dark stubble on his cheeks. “Well, I don’t think that the Shades trying to kill you, or Finn and you sharing dreams, is a coincidence.”

Oh good. Ella groaned.

“The Shades said you’re a Stabilizer,” Mike said, “and obviously the elves believe, like you do, that your role is to make the Gates functional. But what if it’s not the Gates you’re supposed to be stabilizing but Finn’s dreams?

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Not at all.” Mike glanced at Finn’s door. “Fix his dreams, his memories, so that they don’t give him so much pain.”

Could Finn hear them talking? Ella swallowed hard. “I wish I could. And wouldn’t it be wrong, changing his memories? Won’t that be like robbing him of his past?”

“I don’t mean to erase them or take them away from him. But you can... mild them down.”

Ella thought about that. “I tried to be there for him when the bad stuff happens. But I can’t even talk to him in his dreams, or touch him.”

“Try harder?” Mike suggested.

Screw you, Mike.

“Maybe you also need to feel safe,” Mike muttered. “You both need time together and... Oh my gosh, that’s so romantic. I’ve got it. You need to love him and make him forget all the pain.” He winked. “Some sex wouldn’t hurt.”

“Not sure it helped so far,” Ella muttered.

Mike raised both brows. “More and wilder sex, then?”

“Oh, shut up.” Her face flamed. “Let’s recap. You suggest I cuddle with Finn and make him feel safe.” And wouldn’t that be so freaking wonderful. “Also that I manage to become active in his dreams and change his memories to better ones, stopping his magic.” She sighed. “I wouldn’t mind. I wouldn’t mind a break from running for our lives, either. But how? It’s only a matter of time before Dave finds out we’re here. The information’s bound to leak out.”

She’d barely stopped talking when a thin buzzing reached her ears. Mike looked up.

Up.

Oh shit.

“Helicopters,” Ella breathed. “We got a leak already.” Either Sarah had freed herself, a member of the staff had discovered her, or Dave had found them all on his own. It wasn’t like he didn’t have the means.

Mike clenched his jaw and drew Sarah’s gun from his belt. “Let’s go face David Holborn.”

Us and what army? Ella wanted to say but didn’t. It wasn’t funny. Yeah, not funny at all.

Chapter Seven

Control

Finn was swinging his legs off the bed when Ella entered his room. “I want my knives,” he rasped.

“What are you doing?” She reached his side just as he was struggling to stand. “You must rest.” She pushed him back down until he sank on the mattress. His smell of spice was faint beneath the layers of antiseptic and blood.

“They’re here,” he whispered. “I can’t run. I want my knives.”

“You just need to rest, you’ll be fine—”

“I can’t run,” he repeated. He looked up, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “I’ll give myself up.”

“No.” It came out as a half shout, and she forced herself to take a calming breath. “No way. We have a plan.”

Hope flashed through his eyes, then he looked away. “A plan.” There was a new tension in his body, as if he wanted to believe her but didn’t dare.

He was right to be distrustful. It wasn’t as if it was a real plan, just the seeds of one.

“The knives. If you’re going to give yourself up, what do you want them for?”

“Neith gave them to me,” Finn whispered.

The only thing he had from his world and from his past. She watched the emotions play on his face, the fear, the sorrow, the acceptance of his fate.

And she’d be damned if she let go of him that easily.

“Listen to me.” She sat by his side and took his hand, tangled her fingers with his. He stared down at them.

“I don’t want you hurt,” he whispered.

“Listen,” she said again and turned his hand over to see his chafed knuckles. “There’s a way to stop the Gates from opening. But you’ll have to trust me.”

“I trust you.” No hesitation.

She closed her eyes for a moment, because she was going to fall apart and couldn’t, not now. Then she cupped his cheek, traced the high cheekbone and the sharp angle of his jaw. “You must do as I say. Lie down and look harmless. Say nothing. Leave the talking to me.”

“Talking?” he muttered.

She grinned at his confused frown. “I said I have a plan, didn’t I?”

An idea was forming in her mind. If only she managed to get Dave to listen before shooting again, maybe there was a chance.

***

Ella had just pulled the sheet up to Finn’s chest when the door to the room burst open. Armed police spilled inside, guns pointed.

She forced herself not to go for a weapon but stand still and wait. Glancing at Finn, she found him glaring at the ceiling, arms by his sides. His idea of looking harmless.

Then Dave entered, flanked by two men bearing machine guns. His face was set in stony lines, but otherwise he looked the same he always had — the same three-day stubble, the same bags under his eyes, the same grey hair. The seam that marked him as a Guardian was invisible to her now. She felt no fury; only fear and stomach-burning nerves.

Outside she could hear Mike arguing loudly with someone; probably asking to come inside.

The men spread out, surrounding Finn’s bed, sighting down at him. Finn let out a small sigh and closed his eyes.

She forced herself not to move. Her chest felt about to explode.

“Ella.” Dave stopped but gave no signal to his men to start shooting. Not yet, anyway.

“You found us,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “Good. We need to talk.”

He cocked his head to the side. So human-like. “Do we now?”

“You haven’t tried to kill me.”

“That could be remedied,” he said.

“Really?” She folded her arms over her chest. “Why are you trying to keep me alive, Dave?”

“You’re the strongest Stabilizer. If another John Grey comes, you’ll be connected to him as well. You can find him for us.”

“As soon as you kill Finn, another John Grey will be born to take his place. And now the elves know what to look for. They’ll find him since he’s a baby, protect him, manipulate him, and control him. They’ll raise him, Dave. In twenty years they’ll be back and there will be no stopping them. Is this what you want?”

Dave frowned. “What are you driving at?”

The room swam in her eyes. She drew a long breath. “I’m saying you’re making a huge mistake. Finn’s on our side, and for as long as he lives, there won’t be another. If he can control his magic, then the Gates will be safe, closed.”

“He’s out of control.”

“There’s a way to counteract his magic. Wouldn’t you rather take that chance and keep the Gates safe, than start the guessing game again, hoping the elves will make the same mistake and deliver the next John Grey to us?” She shook her head and instantly regretted it. So dizzy. “That would make them very stupid, though, and somehow I don’t think that’s true. I think this time they’ll keep John Grey so well guarded we won’t even know what hit us until they’re here, owning our world.”

Dave flinched.

“What is your mission?” Ella asked, taking a step toward him.

One of the men moved forward but Dave gestured for him to stay. “My directive is to stop the Gates from opening and protect this world from an invasion by the Ljosaelfar.”

“So your directive isn’t to kill John Grey.”

Still frowning, Dave shook his head. “No. Not specifically.”

“If there’s a way to control his magic so that no more Gates open, wouldn’t that fulfill your directive?”

Dave hesitated, his gaze shifting to Finn who was staring at them, his eyes wide. “Yes, it would. Am I to understand you found the way to control it?”

“I have.” Her nails bit into her palms. “I’m not just the strongest Stabilizer. I’m bound to Finn and with my help he can take control of his magic. But I’ll need your support.”

“You’re asking me to take a tremendous risk. What if you fail? What if he opens a Gate that lets the elves through in spite of your efforts?”

“Minimize the risk, Dave.” God, for a moment it was as if she was back at HQ, arguing with him over a mission. “You saw that the Gates open close to where he is. Give us a safe place with plenty of empty space around for this... experiment. Post the army, get the missiles ready, whatever’s needed. Think about it. It’s your only chance to get a John Grey who’s on your side.”

Dave’s eyes narrowed.

A hush fell on the room. The air vibrated with tension. And Dave was humming, which meant he was mulling over her words.

Please, dear god. Please.

Nobody shifted for what felt like years, the only movement the slight wavering of the guns. Dave’s gaze seemed turned inward, and Ella hoped those cogs and spiral wheels were turning in the right direction.

Come on, Dave. One chance.

“What do you need?” he eventually asked.

Air rushed into her lungs, and she couldn’t take it all in. The world sparkled, black blossoming in the spaces between, and her knees buckled.

Distantly she thought she heard Finn call her name, but couldn’t answer. Oh no, she had the time to think, who will stop him from falling asleep now?

And then it all went black.

***

Voices argued over her head in urgent tones, and somewhere in the warm, soft darkness, Ella knew there was something she should be doing.

She clawed her way back to the light and it stabbed into her eyeballs. Squinting, she assessed the situation.

She lay on a narrow bed, feet raised, a cold pack on her brow. Mike and Dave were discussing right by her side, but when she shifted, thinking to sit up, the room swayed. Gritting her teeth, she shut her eyes, waiting for the dizziness to pass.

“No,” Mike was saying, “you don’t need to stick them in the middle of a desert. You’re exaggerating.”

“Exaggerating?” Dave choked. “Have you seen what comes through the Gates? And that’s just the scouting animals. I need a place I can control one hundred per cent.”

“How about a military base? Or a ghost town? I think there’s one nearby. Shavertown, something like that.”

“What’s wrong with a desert?”

“You want Finn to feel safe. Sleeping quarters and a kitchen to cook will go a long way toward giving him a feeling of normalcy.”

Ella reached out and grabbed the first thing she could. Mike’s belt. She tugged until Mike turned, brows lifting in surprise.

“You’re awake,” he said.

Why did people always feel the need to state the obvious? Ella dragged him closer. “Finn,” she said, wishing the room would stop spinning. “Where?”

Great, she’d been reduced to Finn’s mode of talking.

Mike waved a hand over Ella’s head. “They’re moving him to an ambulance. As soon as you can, we’ll go down.”

“I need to go to him, Mike, right now.”

“Listen, girl.” He leaned over her, his eyes concerned. “The cut in your arm’s infected, you’re running a fever. The doctor cleaned it and gave you a shot of antibiotics and analgesics, but you need to take care of yourself. He stitched the cut in your palm, too.”

Damn, she hadn’t realized she was down to her tank top and that her arm and hand were wrapped in fresh gauze. Woozy, that was how she felt. It made her want to giggle. Definitely woozy.

“I’m doing okay,” she said and fell back on the hard pillow. “We can go.”

“Are you sure? The doctor wanted to check on you again when you woke up.”

“Dammit, Mike, Finn isn’t stable. Do you want him getting shot again?” A sob caught in her throat. Damn infection and damn fever. She rode the emotional rollercoaster and clenched her jaw. “Help me up.”

“Yes, boss.” Mike rolled his eyes but drew her to a sitting position and wrapped an arm around her as she stood, still wobbly. “Rough night, huh?”

Running on rooftops, searching for Finn as Gates randomly opened all around, having Norma almost die in the car, then Sarah draw a gun on her twice, and barely saving Finn... On top of finding out Finn was John Grey and going through one melt-down already when she’d thought he’d died...

Ella forced down another giggle. God, yeah, you could say it’d been a rough night — and day. More like a rough month. “Any word about Norma?”

“She’s the same.”

Wordlessly, she let Mike lead her to the door, under Dave’s glare. Well, it wasn’t a match for Finn’s.

They stepped into the elevator. She was steadier now, and her legs didn’t feel like they’d buckle at any moment.

“Mike...” Ella squeezed his arm as they rode down. “You’ll stay here, yeah? Keep tabs on Norma, and say hi to Scott from me. Go to him. He needs you.”

“You need me more,” Mike grunted as the elevator doors dinged and opened into the lobby of the clinic.

“We’ll be fine.”

“Hey, are you Ella?” A nervous-looking nurse stepped in their way. He was running a hand through his blond fringe over and over.

“Yes.”

“Oh good. That guy, he’s been asking for you. Could you calm him down? The men are getting jumpy.”

The men? Ella let go of Mike and hurried outside to find Finn struggling with two attendants, trying to get off the stretcher. The fact that he hadn’t knocked them flat on their back yet just went to show how weak he was.

And afraid. The air crackled around him, stretching and glittering like the surface of a soap bubble, filled with writhing forms.

“Finn!” she shouted.

Around the stretcher stood six police, their guns trained on him, their fingers on the trigger.

“I’m here,” she called, hurrying over to the stretcher, trying to ignore the way the ground pitched and moved in her blurry eyes. “All of you, step back. Finn, stop!”

The tableau froze, Finn with a fist drawn for a punch, an attendant in the act of hauling Finn back.

The Gate shrank and faded. Finn dropped his fist, shoulders slumping. She could read relief in every line of his body, but his eyes were glazed over and she wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

They’d taken him away while she was unconscious. They really didn’t understand Finn needed to feel safe.

“Stand down.” She reached Finn and placed a hand on his chest. “Everything’s okay.”

The guns didn’t lower, though. She pushed Finn and he lay back, covering her hand with his over his heart. The gesture always seemed to calm him.

“I’m here. Everything’s okay.” She repeated the litany as Dave strode out of the clinic, ordering his people to step down, as the attendants cautiously approached and loaded the stretcher into the ambulance, as Mike waved and shouted that she should call him and let him know they were okay as soon as she could.

A medic built like a freaking china cabinet took seat at Finn’s feet, reattaching a drip in the needle in Finn’s hand, and two police climbed inside with them — a man and a woman, guns pointing down. They sat on either side of the stretcher.

Finn tensed and his hand tightened over hers, threatening to crush it. He muttered something she didn’t catch.

“I’m here,” she repeated. “It’s okay.”

The ambulance doors slammed closed, and it was quiet.

***

Indefinite time passed, marked with potholes that jerked her on the hard bench of the ambulance and made Finn hiss with pain. He was crushing her finger bones in his grip and she didn’t care, as long as he knew she was there.

Besides, the pain kept her awake, alert for any signs of a Gate opening.

Flashes of images went before her eyes — white landscapes, steep peaks of mountains and swirls of snow — and she shook Finn. His eyes opened, silvery light in their cores, but his mind was obviously elsewhere.

Somewhere far away.

“Stay with me, Finn.” His hand was cold — or was she burning with fever? — and she clasped it, warming it, stroking a finger over the scars on his knuckles. “You’re safe now.”

The images faded and the strange light in his eyes went out. He blinked and shuddered.

Change his dreams. Affect his memories. Move and talk and touch him in the midst of his nightmares. How? Why hadn’t it worked so far? What was she doing wrong?

“You’re shaking,” Finn murmured. “Ella?”

“I’m all right.” She squeezed his hand. “Don’t worry.”

“How’s Norma?” His raspy voice slurred. He sounded as if a wolf had shredded his vocal cords.

“Stable. Mike stayed to watch over her.” She glanced at the shadowed faces of the medic and the two police, then down at Finn’s hand. “Finn... Why can’t I act in your dreams?” The moment she said it, she knew it sounded stupid — it was his dreams, his memories, why should she be able to do anything at all?

“You used to talk to me,” Finn said quietly.

Shock immobilized her. “I did? Then what happened?”

“You stopped talking.” He sounded sad.

What was in the notes Dave gave her? Something about her abilities growing, but also that she’d started fighting them. Had she withdrawn from Finn’s dreams? Could she find her lost abilities again?

Did it all even make any sense, or was she hallucinating with fever?

“I’ll figure this out,” she mumbled, more to reassure herself than anything else. “I’ve done it before; I can do it again.”

Finn was staring at her as if she’d sprouted horns. Well, she was talking to herself. Probably didn’t look quite sane. Too damn funny. “You must’ve been shocked when you met me,” she said, a snort escaping her. “I’m such a chatterbox, and in your dreams you thought I was the shy, silent type.”

“Ella,” Finn said, then again, louder, “Ella!”

What? Oh right, she was chuckling like a loon. “Sorry. It’s just...” Fever, exhaustion, madness, and hanging onto a hope thin as a baby’s wail. Hey, laughing was better than crying, surely.

She drew a breath. She was scaring Finn, dammit. Way to go. “It’s the lack of sleep.” Not the fact that she planned to save the world by talking her way into Finn’s dreams, hoping to change his memories and his magic.

Because that sounded plausible and all.

Yeah.

***

Ella shook Finn awake for what felt like the millionth time when the ambulance finally lurched to a stop. The two police exchanged wary looks and rose from the benches, while the medic fussed with Finn’s drip.

“Where are we?” Ella asked as the doors opened and golden daylight flooded the cramped space.

Nobody answered her. Typical.

“Bring them out,” Dave’s voice rang from outside. “Nobody shoots unless I say so, got it?”

Reassuring, though not by much, considering Dave had been the one to put a bullet in Finn’s chest in the first place.

Two attendants came around to pull the stretcher out and, to her relief, the young doctor from the clinic was with them. That hopefully meant Dave hadn’t brought them there — wherever that was — to have them killed or be left to die.

A policeman stepped forward, offering her a hand down and she accepted it gratefully, not too certain of her balance.

Then she stood next to Finn’s stretcher, surrounded by loaded guns, on the side of a deserted road. Rectangular, windowless buildings with heavy doors rose across the road. The light slanted, casting long shadows. Late afternoon. Just how many hours had the bumpy ride taken?

And how far were they from the city? She eyed the buildings again. What on earth was this place? It smelled of military.

“An abandoned base?” she hazarded.

“The less you know the better,” Dave all but growled. He came to stand in front of her, hands shoved in his pockets. He hummed. The sound seemed to come from deep inside his chest. “This is an experiment, just so we’re clear about this. You have a week to fix his magic.” He glanced at Finn who glared right back, hands fisted by his sides where he lay on the stretcher. “We’ll be posted along the perimeter and also inside, close enough you can yell for help. Infrared sensors will tell us if anything passes through a Gate, and the moment an elf or machine crosses, the experiment is over. Understood?”

Understood. No second chances. Ella swallowed hard. “But the doctor—”

“Dr. Evans will check on you once a day. You can call him with the phone you’ll find inside if anything else is needed.”

A policewoman approached and handed Dave a duffel bag. He glanced inside, then zipped it closed.

“Here are changes of clothes and antibiotics, painkillers and bandages. Come along.”

He led the way into the closest building. Barracks, she thought, abandoned and dusty. She walked next to the stretcher, making sure Finn could see her, as they crossed the huge space and came out on the other side. A training area, if the obstacle race circuit, shooting targets and uneven walls for rock climbing were anything to go by. They took a path around the area to a smaller building standing in the center of the compound.

A rusty sign creaked in the chilly breeze as they approached. The cafeteria. Maybe they offered tea?

She swallowed a snort. Oh dear, not good. Still balancing on the razor-sharp edge to insanity.

“The place has been fixed so you can stay here for the allotted week,” Dave was saying as he opened the metal door and entered, switching on lights.

The stretcher’s wheels made a racket on the path and the attendants had to lift stretcher and Finn to clear the step. Then the tread of heavy boots followed as the small force accompanying them followed inside.

Ella stopped. Someone had shoved the long tables and benches aside and had placed two narrow beds against a wall. A small table with two chairs sat by the counter. Boxes of food and drinks lined the shelves she could see. A door marked ‘toilets’ stood to the right.

Dave cleared his throat. “Showers are outside, by the officers barracks. You’ll find towels and soaps there.”

The place was grey and dark, cold and dank, with all the charm of a prison cell.

She’d take it. God, yes. The bed was calling her name. At this point, she’d sleep on the floor if she had to. “Looks like we’re set, then.”

The attendants lifted Finn from the stretcher and lowered him on one of the beds.

“Will you be all right?” Dave asked softly, and his familiar, concerned voice brought a lump to her throat. He’d always been kind to her — until he’d shot Finn and had proven to be a perfect, emotionless machine.

“We’ll be fine,” she snapped, wishing she got angry enough to see the seam with the spirals and cogs inside Dave, to remember just what an alien being he was. “What choice do we have?”

“You could let me finish what I started,” Dave said matter-of-factly, and yeah, that did the trick quite nicely.

Fingers curling at her sides, she stepped up to him, his glittering seam teasing the edge of her vision. “Go to hell, Dave.” She turned away, because punching him wasn’t a good idea right now. “By the way, you might want to free Sarah from the clinic. She made the same offer. I declined.”

Chapter Eight

Not real

The doctor checked Finn’s drip and examined him one last time before he left the building with the three attendants. Dave shot her a dark look before he followed them, barking at his police to move out.

Yeah, maybe pissing Dave off hadn’t been her brightest idea. But, hell, she was beat, and her brain wasn’t big on rational thought on the best of days.

The door of the old cafeteria banged shut, leaving them at long last alone and relatively safe. Lots of iron around. Even the beds were iron. Hopefully it’d give the Shades pause.

And now to dream and fight to save John Grey. Who would’ve thought such a day would come — or that sleep would be so much work?

She dragged the second bed right next to Finn’s, wincing at the screeching of the legs on the cement floor. Her hand hurt so bad tears leaked from her eyes. Rummaging in the duffel bag Dave had left, she found painkillers and bottles of water. She chugged two pills down, and sat to unlace her boots. That done, she turned and — finally — lay down, fully dressed, reeking of blood and sweat and not caring one bit.

Finn stirred and rolled his head toward her. He stretched out one arm and she shifted closer to lay her head on his shoulder, belatedly checking it wasn’t on his wounded side.

“You did it,” he whispered, wonder in his voice.

“We’re not done yet,” she said.

He stroked a fingertip on her cheek and frowned. “You’re crying?”

She wiped a hand over her face. “It’s all the dust,” she muttered and rested her bandaged hand on his chest.

He grunted, still frowning, clearly not believing her. “You’re in pain.”

“I took painkillers. Should kick in soon.” She sighed, listening to his heartbeat. She could stay like that forever. Her eyes were closing, her lids heavy. “And you? Are you in pain?”

“I’m...” He breathed out, and she looked up, wondering what he wanted to say. He shifted her hand so it rested over his heart. “I’m fine now.”

Her eyes smarted again, and dammit that was quite enough of tears. “Good, because it’s time to dream, and, Finn?”

He harrumphed, his eyes already closed.

“If I don’t start talking in your dream, talk to me, okay? I know you don’t talk much, but this is important, and we need...”

A wave of darkness rolled over her, and she let it come.

***

Ella stood on the frozen plateau among the mountains. A rainbow arched over a girl of six or seven, dressed in a red suit of trousers and tunic. Colorful spheres revolved and danced as the girl waved her small fingers. The spheres rose like soap bubbles, reflecting the light in changing hues that bled into each other, expanding and contracting as they bobbed up and down.

A few steps away, a boy juggled wind currents. They whistled around him, whipping his long, pale hair, ripping the snow, raising it in swirling mini tornadoes.

But it wasn’t Finn.

Ella walked among the tiny magic-wielders, glance darting over pointed ears, cute faces and slender bodies clad in thick fabrics embroidered with the crests of the royal houses. Power sparkled around her, energy bent and twisted — hot and cold, bright or invisible, loud or quiet, touching her or skirting her.

Where was Finn?

She waded through the quiet, focused elven children, until she saw the boy standing to one side, leaning against a huge boulder, arms crossed, glaring.

So familiar.

Finn, she tried to call, but no sound emerged. His eyes flicked her way, though, acknowledging her, before shifting back to the magical display.

Suddenly, his eyes widened and he jerked. A ball of light flew at him, hitting him in the chest. He yelped and dropped to his knees.

Laughter rang all around. The colorful displays dimmed, and many heads turned their way, and hands pointed.

“Not real!” they called and Finn bowed his head, letting his long hair hide his face. “You’re not real.”

Sorrow swamped her. She tried to turn, make the kids shut up, but her feet had taken root in the brittle snow.

Then the landscape was changing, disorienting her, making her dizzy. Passing from dream to dream, from nightmare to nightmare, as the darkness turned to grey and she found herself standing on a huge, white plain, below a cliff.

Something about it was familiar. She thought she saw faces up above, on the ledge, looking down. Staring at something.

She turned, dreading to see.

The boy lay in the snow, blood seeping from his broken leg on the snow around, the white of bone glimmering through the gory mess below his knee. Grey eyes stared right at her, clouded with pain.

She gritted her teeth, twisting this way and that to move her legs, but nothing happened. Walking to him was impossible. Calling him wasn’t working. She dropped to her knees, defeated.

And came awake, her face wet. Glancing around in the faint light of an overhead lamp, she saw nothing out of the ordinary. If something had crossed over, it had to be outside the building.

Falling back against the pillow, she stared at Finn’s grimacing face. Still caught in the dream. She reached out to shake him.

Outside, a howl rang, raising gooseflesh on her arms. Finn’s body jerked and his eyes opened. She clamped a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving and listened.

Shouts, heavy footsteps, a gunshot. Low voices. Finn was watching her from hooded eyes, his breathing harsh and shallow.

“They got it, whatever it was,” she said.

He slumped back on the pillow and turned his face away.

Ella clenched her jaw. Goddammit, it wasn’t working. Finn was sinking into nightmares and she could only watch as he ripped open the Veil between the worlds over and over again.

***

“There’s ham,” she said, examining the tins on the shelves. “Canned fruit, tuna, and saltine crackers. Would you like some?”

Finn grunted, neither affirmative nor negative, hunched over on the bed. His eyes looked bruised, and the vomit green of his hospital pajamas lent a sickly hue to his skin.

Man, he’d looked quite bad when she’d first taken him in and when he’d been shot, but now his eyes were sunken in their sockets and his cheeks were hollow. Worst of all, the relentless energy that had kept him going, the glint of curiosity and interest in his gaze, had dimmed.

He was staring at the needle inserted in his hand.

“You need to eat,” she said quietly. Not that she felt like eating, herself. She was still woozy and her brain felt as if padded with cotton. She’d munched on a cracker earlier and taken her antibiotics, though, and Finn didn’t seem inclined to eat even that much.

Depression clung to her like a poisonous web. On the counter sat the book that had saved Finn’s life — the saga of John Grey, a neat hole in its center, the cover encrusted with dried blood.

Finn’s blood, dammit.

She unscrewed the lid off a water bottle and went to sit next to him. He didn’t look up.

“Are you in pain?” she asked.

He shook his head, tugged half-heartedly on the needle, then pressed a hand to the bandage on his ribs.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” she muttered. “Should I call the doctor?”

“No.” The word was sharp and he ground his jaw, as if angry at himself for speaking.

“Finn, that was a lot of damage. It’s okay to ask for stronger painkillers or anything else you need.”

“I’m opening Gates.” Each word forced between gritted teeth. “These animals... they’ve killed people.” He ripped the needle from his hand and blood spattered the white sheets. Before Ella could move, he surged up and shoved away the drip, sent it clattering to the floor. His fists shook at his sides. “Nothing can help.”

Killing people. A wolf had killed Simon. She remembered corpses in a park with scaly wolves stalking over them. She watched Finn standing there, breathing hard; shaking.

“Listen.” She got up, her bad leg throbbing. “It’s not your fault. I’m not blaming you.”

He said nothing.

She reached for him, didn’t touch him. Like in the dream. “We’ll find a solution. You can do this.”

“Can’t.” Spoken so quietly she barely heard it. “I was never good enough.”

Looked like she wasn’t the only one depressed. With those dreams, who could blame him for hitting rock bottom?

“I promise I’ll fix this.” She’d make goat sacrifices and dance naked in the moonlight, if that was what it took. “Finn, you can do this. You’re strong.”

He still didn’t look up. “Not real,” he whispered.

“Hey.” She grabbed his hand. “Snap out of it. What those kids said, what everyone thought was wrong.” She put a hand under his chin and lifted his face, gently. When their eyes finally met, she winked. “You’ve got magic, baby.”

He pressed his lips together and she let him go.

“Lame, huh?” she whispered. “You rock my world?” She snorted. “If I can’t even make you smile, then what good am I?”

He snorted softly, too, and the sound lifted her heart. She had to get through to him and she wasn’t above cheating; not when it came to helping Finn. “Come and eat something. I need your help to do this. I’m tired and the fever won’t let me think. Please.”

It warmed her heart when this time he nodded and let her drag him to the table. Cheating or not, he was doing it for her.

***

The room was shaped like the inside of a bell, the curved walls sheer white. They sparkled in the light of lamps set on tall tables made of dragon bones.

Kneeling on a colorful rug in a corner, the boy played with his toys, pale hair hiding his face, slender-tipped ears poking out. He had a beaked wolf made of stone in his small hand, and the figurine of a man in the other. He made low growling noises as he had the two fight and tumble about.

She dropped to her knees at the edge of the rug. He glanced over and smiled, his grey eyes lighting up. He pushed the stone wolf toy toward her, but she couldn’t lift her hand to take it.

He didn’t seem to mind. He had it attack the man figurine with a low howl that sounded eerily like the sound a real wolf would produce. The fine hairs on her arms stood on end.

She must have made a face, because the boy laughed, a beautiful crystal sound that echoed in the room.

Grinning, she watched as the stone wolf stomped around the figurine, then attacked it making snarling sounds.

So cute. She wanted to grab the boy in her arms, tickle him and hear that happy laughter again. Why wouldn’t her arms move from her sides?

The boy muttered something and wiped at his nose with the back of his hand. He shot her a quick look, then pushed the man figurine toward her. He gave a tentative smile that wobbled at the edges, as if saying, come, play with me.

Oh god, she wanted to join in, but it was as if a force field surrounded the boy, not letting her approach.

His face fell and he pulled back the figurine, eyes downcast.

It made her want to cry. Finn, she tried to say, but no sound came from her lips. Finn, can you hear me?

The boy set the wolf on the figurine, but his heart didn’t seem to be in it anymore. As he turned to set his toys aside, a dark patch on his arm caught Ella’s eye. A bruise? The boy stretched to grab another toy, a sort of plane made from a light, brown material, and she thought she saw the imprint of fingers marked in blue and black around his biceps.

Who did this to you? she wanted to ask. Those weren’t the fingerprints of a child. The urge to gather him close made her hands tingle, but she still couldn’t move them. It was maddening.

The boy whimpered, a tiny sound caught in his throat, and turned his head as if listening. She glanced at the open door. What had frightened him so much?

Then she heard the steps, too.

She couldn’t approach the boy, but she could move away from him, so she got up and stepped toward the door.

The boy scrambled to his feet.

A male elf entered, his wide shoulders barely fitting through. His long pale hair was clasped at the back of his neck and he wore a peculiar metal crown on his head — glittering vines twisting and knotting on his forehead, vanishing in his hairline.

She knew that face from the dreams, and hated it. It always heralded pain.

“Fadhir,” the boy whispered, his face white, and backed into the corner.

Without a word, the elf marched to the boy and grabbed him by the hair. The boy whimpered again as Ella spun after the elf, a shout clogging her throat.

Leave him be! she tried to shout, but couldn’t, and when she threw herself at the elf, to pull him away, she found she couldn’t even touch him.

Why? Why’s this happening?

A thump and the boy’s head was slammed against the wall, the man’s hand holding him there by the hair, his other hand coming to grip the boy’s jaw.

“Where’s your magic, mogr?” he hissed. “You’re no son of mine, are you? You’re an embarrassment, making me look bad to the other lydr.”

Her knees shook with fear. The elf was huge and she barely reached his waist. Stop hurting him! her lips formed the words without a sound.

So useless.

The elf shook the boy and slammed him again into the wall. Another thump sounded, sending her heart banging.

Red misted her eyes. Heat rushed up her neck to her face. How dare he harm Finn? Finn was hers to protect.

“Finn!” she shouted, the sound ripping from her throat, “no!”

***

The door burst open and four police raced inside. They spread out, guns pointed. Ella sat up on the bed, her heart booming. Grey light trickled from the dusty windows of the cafeteria, illuminating the empty space, glinting off the metal surfaces of tables and benches.

Finn struggled to sit up and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Wait,” she whispered, glancing around. Was there an open Gate?

A policewoman, her long braid swinging, pointed at something at the far end of the cafeteria and the others moved toward it, guns raised.

Ella got up, wincing at the sharp pain in her arm and hand. Her pulse beat in every wound and ricocheted inside her skull. She stood, swaying.

What could she do if a dragon or wolf had crossed over? She had no weapons. What if a Gate opened right on top of them, or if the Shades attacked before reinforcements arrived? She had to talk with Dave about that. Experiment or not, she needed at least her blades.

Pissed at herself for not thinking of this earlier, glad the fever addling her senses was finally receding, she marched up to the cluster of police and peeked around them.

A twisted claw and a beaked head lying in a pool of blood. A wolf.

The police woman stalked to the dead animal, sighting down her gun, but the air around them was still. Looked like the Gate had shut down.

“All clear,” the policewoman said into the mike attacked to her collar and signaled for everyone to leave. “Bring in the cleaning crew. Animal remains and blood, nothing living. Take away and incinerate.”

A grunt and shuffle made Ella turn around. Finn stood on trembling legs, white lines of pain around his mouth.

Ella went to steady him with an arm around his waist. Damn, he’d lost weight. His sharp hip bone dug into her palm as they made their way to the wolf’s remains.

“Freki,” he muttered, his arm quivering around her shoulders. He shouldn’t be up, dammit, but of course he’d want to see what his magic had brought. “My fault.” Guilt weighed his voice.

“No, it’s not. Besides, we’re working on it.” She frowned. “Hey, did I really speak aloud in your dream?”

He shivered. “You sounded angry.”

“Just angry? I was going to rip him a new one.” Finn’s father. Shit. Anger did have its uses after all, and the psychologist she’d visited had wanted her to ditch the negative feelings and find inner peace. Inner peace wouldn’t save Finn, or the world.

“Why?”

She froze, staring at his chin, his throat, then down at his bare chest with all its scars and the bandage taped over the incision in his ribs. Familiar panic threatened to surface — you break everything you touch, every relationship you have — and took a deep breath.

Because it wasn’t true. She wasn’t breaking Finn or his trust. She was mending. Like a seamstress, like Asa, Sirurd’s daughter, she was stitching Finn’s soul back together.

Or something like it, anyway. She laid her head on his shoulder and snorted softly against his bare skin. So melodramatic.

“Ella?”

“I was angry because I love you, of course,” she said. “Didn’t I tell you that?” Aggravating. She was pretty sure she had, and hell, she might take it personally if he didn’t remember. She didn’t think she’d spoken those words to anyone before. Hadn’t felt that way before.

“But that was before you knew,” he muttered, barely audible.

Before... Oh right. Before she knew he was John Grey, the monster they’d been trying to find. But a monster would have taken advantage of such a power, would have used it for gain.

Not Finn.

“Magic or no magic,” she said, “it’s you I care for. That’s my heart on a plate, Finn. All yours.”

When she glanced up, she barely noticed the cleaning crew that bustled past them to bag the wolf’s remains and mop up the mess on the floor.

Because Finn was smiling — the lift of his lips faint and barely there, but it was enough to give her hope.

Chapter Nine

Temper

“If I didn’t know he got shot yesterday, I wouldn’t believe it,” Dr. Evans muttered, taping the gauze back on Finn’s chest. “I mean, the fact his rib stopped the bullet is a miracle all by itself. They don’t make bones that strong nowadays. It’s like he’s superman or something.”

He glanced up, found Dave’s scowl and Finn’s glare, and froze. Ella couldn’t blame him. “Ah, okay,” he rushed on. “I don’t really want to know. It’s fine.” He gathered his things in his bag, his hands shaking. “All good.”

Ella watched him go, amused. Having two laser beam glares pointed at you wasn’t a small thing, and she was pleased Finn was healing well.

The infection from the slash in her arm had also gone down, and her head felt clear for the first time in days. She’d even found oatmeal and milk on the shelves and had been treated to the sight of Finn inhaling his food and asking for seconds.

Small victories.

Now if only she could find the key to stopping his magic, life could be good.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Finn stilled in the process of tightening his bandana.

“Captain Wood,” Dave said and Ella turned slowly, nostrils flaring.

“A nice little gathering you’ve got here.” Captain Wood was in full uniform this time, and her blue eyes glittered with barely contained fury. “You tell me to keep out of your way, pretending my concerns about him,” she nodded at Finn who tensed like a coiled spring, “are unfounded. Now here you are, in a military establishment. I’d say you played right into my hands, Sergeant.”

Ella moved closer to the bed, a buffer between Finn and the Captain.

Captain Wood eyed her like she would a turd she’d stepped on, and turned back to Dave. “Gates were opening; you announced the possibility of an invasion and got the army to evacuate part of the city. No invasion of any kind seems to be happening, though, and you commandeered this base — for what exactly? You’re keeping agent Finn who’s recovering from injuries and who has been on my list for a while, together with agent Benson and a platoon positioned outside, on stand-by. For what?”

Ella bared her teeth.

“I think,” Dave said, pronouncing every word carefully, “that there’s a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think so,” Captain Wood said, thumb hooked in her belt. “I demand an explanation. This time you’ve overstepped your authority. I’ve reason to believe agent Finn is directly linked with this alien invasion we’ve been preparing for, and I have therefore contacted the police and requested that a warrant be issued for his arrest.”

“A misunderstanding,” Dave repeated, humming so loud Ella wondered if he’d blow a fuse. “I told you last time we met that Finn is under the protection of the Organization.”

“The Organization? I don’t follow,” Captain Wood grunted.

“That’s because this case is classified,” Dave said smoothly, “and the information is not disclosed to any random captain.” He took a step toward Wood and something on his face must have convinced her she was treading dangerous waters.

“Are you threatening me?”

“No, I’m saying that if you don’t drop this investigation and cancel the request for a warrant, the Assembly will take over and I can’t guarantee your safety or your position.” He shrugged. “It will be out of my hands, you understand.”

Ella gaped at Dave. She never imagined the Organization had such power, and the formal way he talked was unnerving. She inched closer to Finn, just in case, and wondered if she was quick enough to draw Dave’s gun from its hip holster if things went south.

“What’s the name of this Organization?” Captain Wood asked.

“Classified,” Dave said.

“But why protect agent Finn—”

“Classified, too.” Dave nodded toward the door. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m sure you’ve got things to do and warrants to cancel.”

The Captain’s cool eyes flicked from Dave to Finn and then to Ella, lingering, full of curiosity and anger. “I see. Don’t think I won’t discuss this with my superiors.”

“Feel free, Captain. Nobody can stop you from digging your own grave,” Dave said, and Ella shivered.

Without another word, the Captain spun on her heel and marched out, letting the door slam behind her.

Holy steaming pile of crap, what would have happened if Dave hadn’t given them a chance? Even if they’d managed to escape him, the military would have come blasting after them with everything they had.

But you convinced him, she thought, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing her hands over her face, the adrenaline rush fading, leaving her cold. You only have to prove you were right.

Oh yeah.

“I’ll need my knives back,” she said, muffled by her hands, when she heard Dave move toward the door.

“What for?”

“Christ, Dave, if it hasn’t escaped your attention, the Shades are still after us, and the occasional claw or beak falls through the Gates from time to time.” She raised her head to glower at him, though her heart wasn’t in it, not after he’d taken their side. “But above all, I need them in case Captain Bitch returns. If she as much as touches Finn, she’ll lose a hand, I swear.”

Finn made a small choking noise behind her.

“Temper.” Dave shook his head. “I’ll send you the knives,” he threw over his shoulder as he opened the door. “Just don’t get any ideas, I always carry a gun.”

“As if robots can die,” she shot back and sighed. “It’s the rest of us I’m worried about.”

***

Anger. The only thing that had made a difference in Finn’s dreams so far. She had to use it somehow, draw on it.

It was their third day there, and time passed quickly when every chore took up a good chunk of the day. The visiting medic had brought plastic to tape over Finn’s incision so he could shower without wetting the wound, and Finn had insisted he was fine showering alone, but she’d hovered, afraid he might pass out and hurt himself worse. She’d also wrapped plastic over her own wounds. The ancient showers insisted on spraying scalding hot and then ice cold water on her every time.

It sure helped wake her up in the mornings.

Then there was the task of preparing food on the basic stove she’d found under the counter. Dave hadn’t given their need for eating much thought, apparently. Probably because he didn’t need food himself.

Not that Finn was picky. Just restless and slow. Too tired to even chew; barely interested in living.

That had to change. She’d haul him back to the land of the living, kicking and screaming. She’d leave him no choice.

Yeah, anger. Fuel her anger against those who wronged him, feed the fury until she was incandescent with it.

She sat on the floor, polishing her knives, while Finn half-dozed on the bed.

“Your father,” she said, because that ticked her off the most. Ticked her off — hell, it sent red flashing before her eyes. “How bad... How often...?” Her teeth were grinding with outrage.

Finn blinked, his body tensing on the bed. “Not often,” he whispered. “Not bad.”

“How bad is not bad?” She knew a Finn euphemism when she heard one. “Could you walk? Could you move afterward?”

He shifted on the pillow, eyeing her, his expression guarded. “He only bruised me a little.”

“From smashing you repeatedly into the wall?” Fury made her hands shake and she dropped the knife to the floor before she cut herself.

He said nothing, mouth pressed small. Dammit, still he didn’t get it. She threw the rug away and saw him flinch.

“He hurt you. You were just a kid.”

“I had no magic,” Finn quietly. “I disgraced him at the children displays.”

“He’s an idiot.” Ella got to her feet and stomped to gather the rug from the floor. “When you love someone, you don’t care what others will say, or if you fall out of fashion.” Another thought hit her. “Did Neith beat you, too?”

Finn shook his head and glared at the bed cover.

“You said he died before you joined the military. How?”

Finn looked up and her heart twisted in sadness. “He was sick.”

God, it hurt to see so much pain in his eyes. And it was no good. She needed anger, not fear and numbing sorrow.

If she didn’t find a way to help Finn and stop the nightmares, all the sorrow in the world would have been for nothing.

***

The woods were still and frozen, white trees rising against the grey sky. A sharp wind slithered between the trunks, stinging her face and exposed hands. The snow crunched underfoot, fresh and thick, and her boots sank in it. Wading up to her knees in the fluffy drifts, she followed Finn who moved silently, an arrow cocked on his longbow, forefinger and middle finger holding it in place.

He wasn’t a boy anymore but a teenager, his body tall and lanky, his shoulders narrow. His face was caught between childhood and adulthood, the angles of his cheekbones and jaw not so sharply defined.

He pointed his arrow up as a fluttering sound broke the quiet, but then lowered it with a small huff.

It was peaceful and oddly beautiful, the whorls on the tree trunks mesmerizing, the icicles hanging from the lower branches glinting with rainbows when light touched them. Star-shaped flowers grew under the trees, their petals like crystal, fracturing every beam of light into rainbows. She reached toward them, entranced.

Feeling eyes on her, she turned. Finn had an odd look on his face. Pensive. She smiled at him and he smiled back.

The place was beautiful, the moment joyful and tranquil.

And knowing this was Finn’s memory, it wouldn’t last.

Something heavy crashed in the woods and Finn fell into a crouch, glancing about. She crouched beside him, watching his anxious face, the hooded eyes she knew so well.

Where was Neith? Why was a teenage Finn hunting in the woods alone?

The crashing sounds came closer and Finn’s mouth twisted in fear. What the hell was coming?

Trees groaned as the creature lumbered through the forest, knocking into the trunks with thunderous thumps. A trumpeting filled the air. An elephant?

Finn cowered, huddling as small as he could, bright lines lighting up his skin. The white fur he wore and his tangled silvery hair blended so well with the snow she wasn’t sure she’d notice him if she hadn’t been looking at his face a moment before. A tremor went through him, then he stilled.

A boom and a smash, and a tree shook violently as something huge rumbled past. Ella gasped, falling back into the snow.

An armored car. Probably. A creature couldn’t be that... rectangular, could it? Unless it was a giant armadillo. Really giant. Humongous. Immense and white, each plate shimmering like nacre, and glittering windows — or eyes? — fitted in the narrower front.

She was so close to Finn she could hear him panting, his head bowed over his arms in the snow. She wanted to comfort him but couldn’t move. Could barely breathe.

A long moment of numbing terror as the armadillo-like creature trudged past them. Then it was gone, moving on its booming and trumpeting way. She listened to it smashing into trees for a while before a sound from Finn made her turn.

He was on his knees, his thin face blank. Then his mouth turned into a bitter line and a familiar glare fell in place. In an uncharacteristic display of frustration, he threw bow and arrows away and gouged holes in the snow with both hands.

She tried to ask him what was wrong, but her mouth wasn’t working. Figured. She waited until he was done and when he picked up bow and arrows and set out in another direction, she followed.

The trees thinned out and colors caught her eye. A village? The houses were hardly visible against the white mountain slope, but multicolored pieces of cloth were tied to their roofs and they whipped in the wind, cheerful and festive.

Finn didn’t look thrilled, though. He stomped to the village edge, then slowed and sighed. He headed toward a specific house and knocked on the wooden door. An elven woman stepped out, her long hair wrapped in colorful ribbons, the points of her ears dark. She was much taller than Finn, and her arms looked strong.

“Isthelfinn,” she muttered, not sounding too pleased.

Finn bowed his head. “Greetings,” he said, strained. “If I may ask for—”

“Is it that boy again?” a gruff male voice asked from inside, and Finn flinched.

“What happened?” the woman asked, narrowing her eyes. “It’s not even Winter yet. Can’t you hunt?”

Not even Winter? Ella shuddered.

“A hestr passed and scared the animals off,” Finn whispered, still looking down at his feet. “Neith is in bed, and I haven’t caught anything in two days. If you could spare something...?”

“Tell him we can’t spare food whenever he shows up!” the man shouted from the depths of the house. “Neith laid his path years ago and now he has to tread it.”

Finn’s face tightened. “It wasn’t his fault, what happened.”

“Who’s asking you, boy?” The woman scowled. “Beggars don’t offer opinions.”

Ella seethed. She wanted to punch the woman, then go inside and kick the other asshole where it hurt. Neith was sick and a teenage boy was taking care of him, hunting in the frozen mountains, and they wouldn’t even give him a scrap of their food?

But Finn only bowed again, paler than before, and turned to go. He stumbled once in a pothole in the path, straightened and kept going. Why didn’t he try the other houses? What had Neith done for the villagers to hate him? What was that thing in the woods?

Finn slung his bow over his shoulder and headed back toward the forest, staggering in the snow, his shoulders slumped.

Damn, she was failing him again.

“Finn!” She jerked at the sound of her own voice echoing in the stillness.

He spun around, eyes wide, barely keeping from falling.

Ella? His mouth formed the word but she didn’t hear it, didn’t wait for the sound to catch up with her as she started toward him, cursing the snow that slowed her down, cursing the villagers and the elves, anger warming her chest, igniting her.

By the time she reached him, she burned with it. She fought the thickening in the air as she approached him, struggled against it, punched it with her fists.

Finally she reached him, caught his hands in hers and pulled him close.

Chapter Ten

Real

“Hard to say if it’s working or not.” Dave sank into one of the metal chairs and ran his fingers through his grey hair.

“Meaning what exactly?” Ella was too happy to let Dave’s vague comments dampen her spirits.

Finn sat on the bed, his gaze fixed on the far wall; a stillness that spoke of tension.

“Meaning, animals keep passing. Only one made it through alive, which is good. But,” Dave lifted a forefinger, “he hasn’t stopped opening Gates.”

“Yet,” Ella said. With Finn sleeping next to her every night, hordes of animals could have crossed unscathed. They hadn’t, and that was huge. Not that she was going to explain that part to Dave. “It’s only been four days.”

“You mean, it’s already been four days.” Dave’s brows knitted in a dark frown. “I need to see results.”

“It’s not magic,” Ella snapped.

“Sure it is,” Dave quipped.

Finn glowered at the cafeteria wall.

“You know what I mean.” She’d spoken to Finn in his dream, touched him, and this morning she’d seen some sparkle return to his eyes. They’d made progress, dammit.

“This friend of yours, the oracle, Mike.” Dave turned his speculating gaze on Finn who ignored him in favor of shifting his glare to the closed door. “He explained to me what you’re trying to do. More happy memories, fewer nightmares, right?”

“That’s the general idea.” Ella shrugged.

“You can really enter his dreams,” Dave whispered, frowning. “Where he forms the Gates.”

Ella swallowed, flicked a glance at Finn. “I guess so.” She still didn’t understand how it worked.

“How are you doing it, son? Do you know?” Dave waited with the patience of an alligator until Finn shook his head.

“He’s asleep when it happens,” Ella said. “The dreams trigger the Gates.”

“Only the nightmares?”

Tough one. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen any happy memories so far.”

“What if you try and dream of something happy?” Dave had turned his attention back to Finn who sat ramrod straight, a muscle leaping in his jaw. “Then we could narrow the issue down.”

“I can’t.” Finn made a visible effort to relax his hands. “Can’t control what I dream.”

“Think of good things before you go to bed,” Dave said.

“Yeah, you’re sitting here after shooting him and you think it’s that easy,” Ella snapped.

Dave sighed. “Yeah, that’s what Mike said.”

Mike?

Dave pulled out his phone and pressed a button. Ella and Finn exchanged puzzled looks. Long moments passed.

Then the door opened and two policemen entered, followed by Mike. Clean-shaven, his hair spiked with gel. His clothes clean.

What. The. Hell.

He’d been there, waiting? Ella got up, her jaw hanging slack, and before she knew it, Mike bounded over, arms open, and hugged her tight. He lifted her off her feet and turned her around, laughing.

“Good to see you, girl, good to see you.” He put her back down, a smile to his ears. He wore one of his favorite blue shirts and jeans. A picture of normalcy. “Your boss said I could see you but only for little while.”

“Good to see you, too,” she said, shaking her head.

“And Finn.” Mike ambled over to the bed and stuck out his hand.

Finn eyed it suspiciously, as if it might grow teeth and bite him. After what seemed like forever, he reached out cautiously and took it.

Mike shook Finn’s hand enthusiastically and sat down. “Man, you look well! Can’t tell you how glad I am. Last I saw you, you looked like hell warmed over. That was some serious shit, dude. You need to get better and cook for us again. Scott has been asking about you. We could go for drinks at that bar we went last time. We had a good time. What do you say?”

Finn stared at him, eyes like saucers. When silence stretched, he nodded quickly, and Mike chuckled.

“Agreed, then! Fix this mess and remember we have a date for drinks, okay?” He winked at Finn who kept staring. Mike’s lips twitched and he bounded to his feet.

Finn’s hand shot out and grabbed him, pulling him down. Mike yelped as he sank back onto the hard mattress.

“Norma?” Finn whispered, his voice tight.

“She’s okay.” Mike relaxed. “Still at the clinic, all vitals monitored until she’s given the okay to leave. Don’t worry, man.” Mike patted Finn’s shoulder.

Finn released him, nodding, and Mike went to grab a bag from one of the policemen. He offered it to Finn who just stared.

“A gift,” Mike said brightly.

“Gift.” Finn spoke the word as if it was in Martian.

“I thought it might help fix the issue faster.” Mike cleared his throat. “Well, then. Keep up the good work. And don’t forget the cuddling.” He wagged his brows at Ella and left, the officers following him.

Ella stared after him, confused. Cuddling. Did he mean...?

“I’ll be going, too,” Dave said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I really hope Mike was right, and that this can help.” His tone made it clear he had serious doubts.

Cuddling, Ella thought as Dave left the cafeteria and closed the door behind him, leaving her with Finn.

Familiar heat was rising to her face, and her body tingled. What the hell had Mike put in that bag?

***

A condom, at it turned out. Ah yeah. For the ‘cuddling’ business. Ella pretended her face wasn’t on fire and got busy unpacking the rest of the stuff from the bag.

Finn gave the condom a long look. Ella turned away and tried not to think about his strained expression. What was he thinking?

But Mike had also packed wine. Good red wine that put color into Finn’s cheeks. And a good take-away of steak and salad. Finn attacked the meat as soon as she put it in front of him. Trust Mike to put some thought in what Finn might be used to eating in his own world. Damn, she should have thought of it herself.

She watched him inhale his food, picked at hers and pushed away the plate with a sigh. Both amused and grateful for Mike’s thoughtfulness, she gave Finn a once-over.

Mike was right. Finn looked better. Those few days of quiet and rest had done him a world of good, despite the nightmares and Dave’s stressful visits. His eyes shone and his lips looked — kissable, very kissable and soft and...

Damn.

“Ella,” Finn said.

Hm? “Yes?”

His brilliant eyes, very blue in the lamplight, were fixed on her, making her feel warm all over. But then he moved to rise and winced, hand going to the bandage on his chest. “Would you like more wine?”

Get your mind out of the gutter, Ella. Too early for grabbing Finn and ravaging him. “No, better not.” She gulped the rest from her glass and set it down carefully. “I, um, I’ll wash the dishes.”

She gathered the silverware and the plates and carried them behind the counter to the sink. Finn gathered the glasses and rose, too. Damn he was so handsome, his pale hair glowing in the faint light.

Ella turned on the tap, still looking at him. He turned, their gazes meeting, and her knees turned to water.

“I’ll wash,” he said. “You shouldn’t get your hand wet.”

She looked down at her bandaged hand and her only thought was how much she wanted to kiss him.

Damn, damn, damn.

He brought the glasses over, lingering behind her, his hand brushing her forearm as he put them on the counter. His scent — so good, spice and caramel, and the heat of his body seared a line down her side.

Damn Mike and his wine.

Finn reached for a towel, his hip pressing against her.

“Please...” she breathed, her voice strangled, and backpedaled when he stepped in front of the sink. “Tell me about Neith.”

He’d turned on the water. Now he turned it off, his back rigid. The glow of his skin, his hair, went out.

Yeah, way to waste the relaxing effects of the wine.

Was she doing this all wrong? Trying to understand and feed her anger, and stressing Finn? Damn, she wished she knew. Maybe a psychologist could help him. But when she tried to imagine Finn seated at the psychologist’s office, spilling his guts, she failed.

“What do you want to know?” he asked quietly.

Too late to back out now. “Those people at the village you visited. Why didn’t you ask someone else for food? What did you mean when you said it hadn’t been Neith’s fault?”

His hands dropped to his sides. “That’s Neith’s village. That was his sister. Neith... They say he did terrible things. Killed a villager and ran away. Nobody wants to hear his name.”

Something in the phrasing was odd. “They say. What did Neith say?”

“That he loved a girl, and her father didn’t want him. One night they met in secret, her father found them and tried to kill him. Neith killed him instead.”

Ella stood, not knowing what to do next. She was pissed at the villagers, sure — pissed as hell, seething.

Was that enough? Was it worth reminding Finn of terrible times and making him sad?

She stepped closer and put her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his broad back. He twitched and gripped the counter.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured against the fabric of his t-shirt. “Neith sounds like he was a good man. Elf. Person.” She inhaled Finn’s scent, listened to the quick hammering of his heart, and closed her eyes.

There was silence for a while, and Finn relaxed in her hold. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Ella waited. “About?”

“The dreams,” Finn said, his voice rumbling against her ear. “That you tried to change my memories. That you were angry for me.”

Oh fuck. “I don’t know what else to—”

“I wanted to thank you,” Finn said. “For trying to help me.”

But it wasn’t enough, was it? Ella pulled back. Was there any progress? She’d done her best to sound confident for Dave, but as long as Gates were opening, nothing was fixed — and time was almost up. What that meant was clear.

She’d failed Finn as surely as she’d failed Simon.

***

Snow swirled. The cold bit into her skin as she trudged up a path to yet another fishermen’s town by the frozen lake. Finn struggled by her side, clutching a small bundle, bright lines writhing on his face and exposed hands. He was way too thin, she thought, his cheekbones too sharp, the joints of his fingers swollen.

He looked to be around seventeen or eighteen. He was tall, but with that sort of awkward body that meant he was still growing. She was young, too, dressed in a jacket, jeans and sneakers. The age difference held even in his dreams, a constant in a terrifying world.

The wind whipped through the slender trees lining the path and sent Finn staggering sideways. She started after him but he caught his balance and swore softly under his breath. His trousers were worn, with holes at the knees, and his boots torn at the seams. The parka he’d thrown on was doing a good imitation of a sieve and she shivered with cold just by looking at him.

The town walls came into sight, wooden palisades with support beams arching out, driving into the snow-covered ground. The town gate was open, elves going in and out, laden with baskets or pulling two-wheel carts. Finn hunched over and skulked behind a cart, hurrying through the gate and into the town.

She followed like a ghost, floating lightly off the ground, invisible.

The houses were made of wood and stone, dark, with small windows. A fair was set up in the small square, with stalls and colorful ribbons fluttering in the wind.

Finn’s steps quickened. An aroma of grilled meat and freshly baked bread filled the air, and his belly growled.

Then a hand pushed him from behind. He fell, sprawling, his bundle tumbling and opening. A couple of small items rolled out — a black carving of a dragon, a wooden bowl, the curved tooth of a wolf. Finn reached out, but a boot rose and fell on his things, crushing them.

Ella jerked and fell to her knees. She lunged for Finn’s arm, to pull him back, but she wasn’t quick enough. The guard kicked him in the side and Finn curled into himself with a gasp.

“Get out of here,” the guard hissed. “You’re not allowed in the town. You know it.” He prepared to deliver another kick.

Goddammit. She unwound like a spring and shoved into the guard. “Get off him!”

He frowned, barely seemed to feel the impact. Taller and twice as wide as Finn, he hauled him up by the hair and dragged him out of the square.

She couldn’t protect him. Dammit all, she could kick and yell, but the memory ran in deep grooves in Finn’s mind. She watched, helpless, as another guard arrived and the two of them together hauled a kicking and twisting Finn by the armpits. She ran after them to the town gate where they proceeded to throw him on the muddy snow outside. No matter how she cursed and pummeled them with her fists, they didn’t seem to feel a thing. They spat at Finn’s feet and left.

Finn groaned and pushed to his knees, tangled hair hiding his face. Slowly he put his feet under him and stood. He cast a look at the town, lips twisting. Then, shoulders set against the icy wind, he dragged his feet toward the road, looking more lonely and defeated than ever.

But he wasn’t alone, was he? Maybe stopping the memory wasn’t working, but he’d survived all this. It was in the past. She only needed to remind him of that.

Sounded easy.

She jogged after him and slipped an arm around his waist. He lifted wide eyes at her and stumbled to a stop.

“Ella,” he whispered, his voice clogged.

“You’ll be fine,” she said, putting all her faith in him in her voice. “Everything will be okay. You’ll see.”

His eyes shimmered.

“You’re the bravest and kindest person I know,” she whispered. “And I love you.”

He gave her one of his bright smiles, and it lit up his gaze. “Fridha,” he whispered.

She was about to ask what it meant, when Finn gasped and clutched her arm, his fingers digging painfully in her flesh.

“What is it?” she blurted, frightened.

Finn shook. The whole world was trembling, the trees shedding curtains of snow, the mountain rumbling under their feet as if about to erupt. The sky above darkened and clouds swirled, a maelstrom sucking up the earth, tearing the trees and the town houses, swallowing them.

What the hell?

Finn was burning bright, his face twisted in pain. He lurched back, lost his balance and fell.

“Finn!” She dropped to her knees and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close. “I’m here.”

***

Ella came awake to strong arms around her ribs, holding her against warm skin with the scent of spice and sugar. Soft hair tickled her face and she buried her nose in the junction of neck and shoulder, humming contently.

Finn moaned and his hold tightened to the point of pain. Tendons bulged under her lips as he threw his head back, his breathing coming through gritted teeth.

Something was very wrong.

She gasped, feeling her ribs creak, and drew back. “Finn?” Sweat tracked shiny lines down his face. His teeth were bared in a grimace. “Finn!”

He released her and rolled on his back. His body convulsed, fingers scrambling in the tangled sheets.

Had he pulled the stitches? Had his broken bones shifted? “I’m getting the doctor.”

Finn grabbed her arm, fingers tight like vises. “No.” His eyes scrunched shut, his face contorting in pain.

“Dammit, Finn.” Her heart pounded. “How can I help you?”

Finn panted, lips curled back. Bright lines writhed on his skin. Then he opened his eyes and Ella choked on a breath.

Silver flames danced in their centers.

The air crackled around them, breaking into liquid fragments. She could only stare as light broke through the seams of reality, images twisting, contained in changing windows from another world.

She jerked back. “Finn, stop!”

The light intensified around him, the cracks radiating from his head and shoulders like a pattern of leaf veins, spreading wider.

Goddammit, she thought it was getting better. She was wrong. Magic pulsed in the air, and he convulsed again, body arching off the bed. He had to be hurting himself. She gripped his arms, did her best to wrestle him back down.

Finn wrenched himself free, gasped and reached up to clutch his shoulder. He rolled on his side, groaning. White flames shot between his fingers.

The hell? Caught between worry and fascination, she almost missed the blackness rising in the room, engulfing it. The sound of clicking finally registered and she sat up.

Jesus Christ, the Veil was tearing. Muttering to herself, she bent to retrieve her knives from under the bed — and just in time, too.

Shades.

She whipped her blades out as a kobold on crooked legs jumped out of the Grey and onto her. Jumping off the bed, she advanced on the creature and stabbed a knife into its concave chest. It fizzled before it had crumpled to the ground.

A rock troll came pounding on heavy feet. She weighed a blade in her hand, perfectly balanced, and threw it. It caught the troll in its puffed-out chest, tripping it up. It crashed like a tree trunk, a mere couple of feet short of crushing her, and rippled out of reality.

Shit. She had to end this before Dave and the cavalry came charging and saw Finn like that. She glanced at him, curled and shaking, caught in the eye of a burning storm, and almost missed the goblin rushing her from behind.

She spun and her blade sliced through the Shade’s arm. Not waiting for the goblin to fall, she kicked another that was sneaking up on her and sent it flying back. Following through, she threw the blade after it. The goblin screeched as it returned to the Grey.

Quiet returned, punctuated by Finn’s harsh breaths and the hissing where the ichor dripping from her knives hit the floor.

This was turning into a really shitty night.

Carefully, a tremor in her hands, she put the knives in a heap by the bed and sat next to Finn.

How to stop the pain, stop his magic from leaking? Chewing on her lip, she bent over him. The pain seemed to originate from his birthmark. How strange.

She covered his hand with hers, on his shoulder, and pried his fingers off one by one. He reached for his shoulder again, breath wheezing, and it took all her strength to hold his hand off.

Holy freaking shit. She sucked in a sharp breath, bile rising in her throat. The dark lines of the starburst pattern were moving, shifting under Finn’s pale skin. Expanding, curving. Blossoming.

Into a flower-shaped mark.

Like the one John Grey had.

Wheels turned in her sluggish brain. Finn had said he’d matured a couple of years late. In fact, his magic had matured just a year ago.

But what if the process hadn’t yet ended?

Finn moaned, crushing her hand, head bent to his chest. Sweat trickled down his broad back in rivulets.

“It’s okay,” Ella whispered, fascinated in spite of herself as the lines shifted, expanding, their color changing from black to grey. “It will be okay.” One could only hope. If the lines and magic didn’t settle, she’d have to call Dave whether she wanted it or not. “Hold on a little longer.”

Light danced around them in tiny eruptions of brilliance. It leaped from Finn’s skin that rippled and shimmered like mother-of-pearl, from the long strands of his white-blond hair, making her skin prickle.

She touched his forehead. It felt cold and clammy. She brushed soaked strands out of his eyes. “I’m here,” she said, like she’d said in his dream.

A pale grey now, the pattern on his shoulder was settling into a circle with a blossom-like symbol in its center, dots surrounding it. When she stroked his hair back, she found that the intricate patterns on his ears had also faded to a cool grey.

“It’s okay, she repeated, “it’s over.”

His shudders quieted, at last, and his bone-grinding grip on her hand relaxed. The cracks in the air began to shrink. The light diminished.

Ella tugged on him gently and he rolled on his back, his chest heaving, his face wet with sweat or tears — she couldn’t tell. He grunted, head lolling to the side.

No Gate had opened.

“You’re fine,” she said, trying to convince herself first. “Everything’s fine. God, Finn.” She swallowed hard. “So glad you made it.”

Her limbs shaking, she curled on the bed and wrapped her arms around him, held him until his heartbeat slowed. Tilting her face up, she kissed his chin, his jaw, his throat. He made a small sound and closed his eyes. He bent his head toward her, though, giving her access, so she kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his closed eyelids, and when she kissed his mouth, his lips parted and he kissed her back, his hands coming to cup her face.

He kissed her as if she was his first breath of air. When his eyes opened, the silver light was gone.

“I always hoped you’d be real,” he whispered.

Chapter Eleven

Fridha

“No Gates,” Dave said, rubbing his chin. “Not since two nights ago. No lights or strange air movements, no animal parts falling through, no alarms set off anywhere on the compound.”

Ella fought to keep her face blank but couldn’t help grinning. “We did it. I told you we could.” Unable to keep still, she shot from her seat and paced about the dingy cafeteria, waving her hands. “It’s working!” She stopped and pointed a finger at Dave. “So, god help me, if you point a gun at Finn again...”

“Oh?” Dave placed his hands flat on the table. “What will you do?”

“I’ll kill you,” Ella said. “I thought we were clear about this.”

Dave snorted. Finn watched her from his perch on the bed, a brow raised.

“Hey, even robots can cease functioning,” she muttered. “I’ll be so pissed, I’ll see right through you, David Holborn, and then I’ll pull out those strange levers and cogs, and we’ll see if you can serve your winged masters any longer. So keep your paws and bullets off my elf.”

This time Finn grinned. It was startling and bright and, whoa, her heart did little back-flips in her chest.

“Your elf.” Dave’s brows drew together, but the corner of his mouth lifted ever so slightly. “I see.” He steepled his fingers and twirled his thumbs.

Ella’s gaze returned to Finn’s face. The thousand megawatt grin had faded but a smile lingered on his lips.

God, he was alive, he was okay, he was better, and as soon as the doctor removed the stitches and gave a thumbs-up about his ribs, Ella would drag Finn to bed, bind him to the bedpost and not let him out for a week.

It’d have to be an iron bed, of course, to keep the Shades away — surrounded by iron chairs and iron whatever-else she could find. Iron-mesh underwear. Rust paint on the walls. Iron cups—

“Ella, are you listening?” Dave gave a long-suffering sigh.

Um. “Sure I am.”

“Right. As I said, two nights without activity isn’t proof of anything. We’ll be monitoring your elf for any indication of the Gates opening again.”

Finn’s smile faded but cautious hope still lit his eyes. Yeah, it made sense they’d need to wait and see, but nothing could dampen her excitement. After the strange convulsions and the change in Finn’s birthmark, the nightmares had lessened, and that was huge in her book.

“Do you know now how the Gates open, son?” Dave turned toward Finn who stiffened. “Do you control it in any way?”

Finn shook his head, fair hair dancing around his face.

“We need to figure out the Gates.” Dave turned to Ella. “Does he bring over what he dreams about?”

Good question. She thought about it. Finn was observing her, his brows twisted in thought.

“I don’t think so,” she finally said, nodding at Finn. “Am I right?”

He shrugged.

“We always suspected the elves sent these animals through to test the Gates,” Dave said. “That the moths, wolves, dragons and the elves were the best suited for traveling across the Veil. And now it turns out he was doing it all along.”

Finn’s hands tightened on his thighs.

“Yeah, well. Not anymore,” Ella said.

If someone had told her a month back she’d be discussing with her magical-robot boss and her elven partner/boyfriend the workings of magical portals between worlds, she’d have laughed her ass off.

Her boyfriend. Scowling, blue eyes blazing, muscles shifting in strong arms, pale hair framing that lean face.

With regret she forced her mind back to the issue at hand. Finn’s nightmares that opened Gates. Right.

Not all events fit the pattern. Him, crossing while running from wolves. The Gate his mother had appeared in. The magic leaking from him when he’d thought Norma had died and as his birthmark changed.

But why say that to Dave when she had no idea what it meant and when it would only make him suspicious again? So she kept her damn mouth shut and waited.

Dave’s cell rang and he pulled it out of his breast pocket with an annoyed frown. “Looks like we’ll have to continue this discussion later.”

“Sure,” Ella said flatly. “Can’t wait.”

Finn had an odd expression on his face. Pensive. Troubled. Who could blame him? He glanced up when Dave stood and headed to the door.

Ella followed Dave outside, and hovered on the threshold of the cafeteria. Two armed men flanked the entrance, guns raised.

She pretended to ignore them. “Are we good, then? When the week is over and no more Gates open, are we free to go?”

Dave shrugged and shoved the phone back into his pocket. “You can go back to your apartment, but I’ll keep the surveillance for as long as I consider necessary.”

Ella narrowed her eyes. “Suit yourself.”

“You’re welcome.” Dave turned and she caught herself before she reached for his arm, too aware of the guns following her movements.

“Dave, wait.”

He shot her a questioning look over his shoulder. For a robot, he looked too damn human. “Yeah?”

“What does Frida mean?”

A puzzled frown came over his face. His gaze drilled into her and she did her best to look nonchalant. “Fridha,” Dave said, the consonants soft the way Finn pronounced them, “is an adjective of the fertility goddess of the northern people. It means beloved.”

Beloved.

A stupid grin on her face, she turned back to the cafeteria and her elf.

***

The apartment was dusty, but the broken window had been fixed and Finn’s blood scrubbed from the floor. Although she could swear she still saw traces on the tiles.

Or maybe it was all in her memory.

Dave had okayed their return, and had probably sent his report to the Organization already, detailing the whole damn experiment at the base.

Experiment. She watched Finn limp across the living room to sit on the sofa. The doctor had removed the stitches and had said his ribs were knitting nicely. She couldn’t remember any dreams the past three nights. Had no clue what that meant. Finn had only shrugged when she asked him if he’d had nightmares. In Finn speak, that could mean he hadn’t had any, or couldn’t remember, or he’d been having them every night and didn’t want to talk about it.

As long as no Gates opened, the conversation could wait. At least until she took a shower in her own bathroom, washed her hair with a shampoo that didn’t smell like disinfectant, and put on her own clothes, not the vomit green shirt and pants that made her feel like a terminally ill patient.

Finn bent over, tugging at the laces of his boots, his face scrunching up.

Shit. Get yourself in gear, Ella. “Let me do that.” She strode over and knelt at his feet, putting her hands over his.

He looked up, observing her, but didn’t move.

“It’s okay,” she said and grinned. “I’m your partner, remember?”

A smile lifted the corner of his mouth. It made her heart beat faster. He straightened with a grunt.

She unlaced his boots and pulled them off, followed by his socks, letting them drop on the carpet. “Shower?”

“With you?” Finn’s softly spoken words sent scorching waves through her body. He set a callused hand on her cheek, trailed it down to her chin and lifted her face so she looked right into his half-closed eyes. The heat in them sent another flare down her spine.

Jesus. She gulped. They’d barely entered the apartment, Mike and Scott might pop in any moment to welcome them back, the stinking clothes made her skin crawl and—

Finn stroked a thumb over her lips, ripping her thoughts apart. She pressed herself between his legs and rose on her knees to kiss him.

He gasped in her mouth, his taste — chocolate and pepper — filled her senses, and oh god, she could kiss him all day.

Wrapping his arms around her, he lifted her onto the sofa. She should worry about his ribs but could only think of how to get closer to him, to feel him against her skin.

Reaching up, she tore off the bandana, shivering when his hair brushed her cheeks, cool like rain. His hands slipped under her blouse, warm and rough, clasping her ribcage.

Not enough. Not nearly.

She tugged on his shirt, pulled it up, and he obliged, releasing her and raising his arms to let her remove it. Oh, yes, finally. She traced his strong chest, the scars, fresh and old, mapped the flare on his collarbones, the swell of his pectorals, the flat stretch of his stomach. His breathing came faster.

“Finn...” She wasn’t sure they’d make it to the shower.

His hands found the hem of her blouse and pulled it up. Reluctantly she let go of him to free herself from the annoying fabric, and then he was fumbling with the clasp of her bra, his eyes darkening with need.

He cupped her naked breasts and bent to nuzzle them. Her eyes closed as her body shuddered with pleasure, small quakes shaking her. He kissed and nipped, his mouth hot and soft, the fall of his hair cool and ticklish, his hands sure around her ribs.

She lifted her arms around his neck, blinking, and found his eyes smiling at her. He placed his hands on either side of her head and lay over her, so her eyes fluttered shut again. She jammed her legs around him, lifting her hips, pressing her bodies together, feeling how excited he was.

“Shower,” Finn breathed.

Who the hell cared about showering? She opened her mouth to say so, when Finn shoved his hands under her, lifted her onto his lap and rose off the couch in one smooth movement.

She yelped and wrapped her legs around his hips. With a soft chuckle, he marched to the bathroom and kicked the door open. She laughed breathlessly, burying her face in his neck.

He stopped in front of the shower stall and she slid down, looking up at his serious face.

“I’ve dreamed—” He winced at the word. “I’ve hoped,” he nodded, “of showering again with you.” He didn’t need to say he hadn’t thought it possible. She’d feared the same.

“Finn...” His name was like a charm against evil times and she wanted to say it again and again until she was sure he wasn’t leaving, wasn’t dying.

He swallowed, his eyes shimmering, and put his hands on her waist. He pushed down her pants and panties, following the clothes down until he crouched in front of her and pulled it all off — clothes, boots, socks. When he glanced up again, his eyes blazed with desire.

“Now you,” she whispered, impatient, needing him. “Pants off. Please, Finn.”

He rose, pushing down his pants, shedding them like old skin, his body gleaming like pale moonstone. He lifted his face, a faint flush on his cheekbones, and she thought her heart might break at his beauty.

Finn, Finn, Finn. She caught his hand and led him under the spray of hot water.

After that, things got blurry. Soapy hands gliding over slippery bodies, Finn gasping when she touched him, his lips trailing heat over her neck. The sponge fell from her hand. Her back pressed against the wall and she kissed him, tasting him, while his hands explored her body.

She stroked his sides, his hipbones, fingers trailing to his arousal, and Finn stilled then shuddered, a groan slipping past clenched teeth. His knees began to bend and together they slid down on the tiles. They knelt, facing each other, warm water beating on her back.

Finn bent over and kissed her, long and sweet, then hot and demanding. His fingers tangled in her long hair, tugging lightly on her scalp, sending shivers of pleasure through her. Finn’s kiss was scorching. She was burning, couldn’t get enough. Moaning, she slid closer, wanting to feel him.

She brushed her hands over his ears, down his neck, climbed onto his lap to straddle his strong thighs, wanting... needing...

Finn hauled her against his chest, trapping his arousal between their bodies. A gasp escaped him, his eyes widening slightly. “Faen,” he cursed softly. His pulse thundered. “Wait.”

Hm... what? She shifted and they both gasped. She moved back a little to see his face. “What is it?”

With a small growl, he leaned out of the shower stall, searching for something in his abandoned pants. Then he straightened, light and shadow playing on his chest, and his lips spread in a wicked grin that lit up his grey eyes. He waved something in her face — a small package. “Protection.”

The condom. She plucked it from his fingers and ripped the package open. “Let me.”

His hooded gaze followed her hands as they burrowed between them. His eyes fluttered closed while she rolled the condom on, and when he opened them they were dark, the pupils blown.

Dragging her closer, he kissed her, setting her on fire all over again. Without breaking the kiss, he gripped her hips, lifting them, and slowly eased into her.

Oh god. She arched against him, her fingers scrabbling on his back, and he broke the kiss to gasp her name. They moved, fitting perfectly together, holding onto each other as the wave of pleasure broke, pulling them both under.

As one.

Epilogue

Snowflakes floated on the cold air, lazily spinning in eddies here and there over the jagged rocks. The mountain soared, steep and forbidding. Water dripped from cracks, icicles hanging over the void, glimmering in the white light from the cloudy skies. Birds circled overhead — large birds of prey, their plumage catching the light in odd ways, reflecting it like shards of mirrors.

Finn, a bow and a quiver of arrows slung across his back, knives sheathed all around his waist, was climbing the mountain face. A bundle hung at his back; his fur coat. He was clad in dirty white, tight pants, a grey tunic and knee-height boots with black straps. Muscles trembled in his arms and legs as he lifted his hand to seek another handhold.

A glow caught her eye. Familiar flowers grew in a dark crack in the rock — small, star-shaped blossoms.

Finn heaved himself over a rock ledge and crouched, catching his breath that rose in white puffs in the air. He was on the cusp of adulthood, his shoulders broad, his arms strong, his jaw square. He shaded his gaze with his hand and squinted up. Ella wondered what the hell he was seeing. It all looked like rock and more damn rock to her, and the drop below, beautiful and breathtaking as it was, sent cold sweat down her back.

Finn didn’t seem concerned. For someone who’d been thrown off a cliff as a child, he was surprisingly unafraid of heights.

With a last glance around him, he started to climb. She stood watching him, his sure grip on the rocks, his confident motions. He was almost at the next rock ledge when a huge shadow fell on the mountain.

She turned. Enormous wings blotted out the light and a cry caught in her throat.

Dragon.

A screech rent the air, rattling her teeth. Oh god. “Finn!”

He was scrambling down fast, his long hair whipping in the currents created by the dragon’s descent. As she watched, his hand slipped and he dropped.

She cried out, sure he was falling to his death, but he managed to halt, swinging from one hand over the abyss.

Holy shit. She couldn’t breathe, her throat tight with fear.

The dragon dived toward him, iridescent, horns glinting like gold. Finn cursed, let go of his handhold.

Ella jerked toward him, but he caught himself again, his hands bleeding crimson on the white rock.

The dragon breathed a streak of fire and Ella gasped as Finn dropped again.

“Finn!” she yelled, heart in her throat, and jerked awake.

A moment passed before she could make sense of the soft pillow under her cheek and the shuttered window across the bed. She was in her bedroom, in their apartment. It had been a week since they’d returned from the military base. The weather had grown warmer; the days brighter.

She hadn’t shared a dream with Finn in a while. Why now?

Shadows played on the wall and rippling light filled the room. She rolled on her back and rubbed her eyes, her heart thumping hard.

Finn stood by the bed, head bent, dark-tipped ears poking out of his ashen hair. The air shimmered in front of him — an oval, the size of a face mirror, hovered at eye-level.

A damn Gate.

Sitting up, she scrambled back on the bed. As she stared, open-mouthed, Finn lifted his hand, long fingers extended, and reached into the shiny surface. Blinding bright lines undulated on his arm, on his calm face. He didn’t seem to be in pain.

She was afraid to speak. What if the Gate gobbled up his hand or something? But she must’ve made some noise because he turned slightly toward her, head tilted to the side.

Silver light filled his eyes.

Shit. She shivered, hating the icy feeling of fear.

Finn returned his attention to the Gate, brow furrowing in concentration. A tremble went through him and he jerked his hand out, clenched in a loose fist. He nodded and the Gate shrank, glowing brighter for a moment like a supernova.

Then it vanished, leaving the room dark and brilliant afterimages branded into her retinas.

Ella sucked a hissing breath. “Finn?”

He didn’t move for a long moment, and she wasn’t sure he’d heard her. His skin glowed faintly in the gloom, the lines fading one by one, and his glittering hair began to dim.

In silence, he walked to the bed and sat next to her.

“You never stopped opening Gates, did you?” she asked faintly, afraid of the answer.

He shook his head.

“But how? I’m with you every night. Dave has had the perimeter watched. How did...” Oh. Damn. “You can close them. The Gates still open, but you close them before anything passes through.”

Finn pressed his lips together, then nodded.

“You can control them?” she asked breathlessly. “Can you open and close them at will? Can you—”

“No,” Finn said quietly. “I don’t know how to open them.”

Yet. The word hung unspoken between them. Yeah, his magic was changing. Finn was changing. Growing stronger.

She didn’t know what to say.

He lifted his fisted hand toward her. He watched her under lowered lashes, his hand hovering.

“What is this?” Something glowed, caught between his fingers. “What did you do?”

“It’s called a starburst,” he said, his deep voice vibrating with some strong emotion.

His fingers uncurled. A star-shaped flowed sat on his palm, crystalline, giving off a faint glow and the scent of fresh snow.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, mesmerized. “That’s just... Why?”

In the glow of the flower, his eyes were warm and clear like gemstones. He tapped his chest with two fingers and smiled.

THE END of EPISODE FIVE

END of SEASON 1

I hope you have enjoyed The Truth (Episode Five of Boreal and John Grey).

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Author’s Note

I have always had a fascination with elves and fairies – dragons, too. I am a big Tolkien fan, and have studied fairytales and legends of the world, hoping to understand what these creatures mean, what their origins are and how they differ between cultures. I found the Nordic elves fascinating, hence the decision to base my elves in large part on the Norse mythology. The opening quotes of most of the episodes are based on transcriptions of the Scandinavian epic saga Edda (Younger Edda or Prose Edda) which speaks of the Aesir (the gods), the Aelfar (the elves), distinguishing between Light and Dark elves, and the Duergar or dwarves which may or may not be the same creatures as the Dark elves. Giants are also mentioned, Yggdrasil the world ash tree from which the worlds hang, and the halls of Hell made of the spines of serpents... I think it’s a fascinating mythology.

The idea of Boreal and John Grey has existed in my mind (and my notebook) for many years – minus the mythological side. The series name was one of the first things I jotted down about ten years ago. I imagined a man jumping between worlds, one of which was in an ice age (hence the “Boreal” part), being quite different in every world and not sure how to find the way back. Obviously, the story line changed quite a lot in this version. But for almost as long I’ve wanted to write a story about a female lead, a police investigator, and her elf partner, so I was very pleased when I thought of merging the two ideas, coming up with Ella and Finn.

I like very much the idea of parallel worlds and of crossing over. I also wanted to explore the appearance of the elves as described – their ears, so often talked about, but also their paleness (at least for the Light elves), and give it a logical explanation, since I’ve made them as “human” as possible. Therefore, I went back to the origins of our race to find out how a race could be born with ears different from ours (yeah, a small ear fetish here... lol) and practically albino.

Why do elves look the way they look?

The ears were interesting. Most animals have pointed ears – but our ancestor, a tiny rat-like mammal, happened to have rounded ear tips (http://www.livescience.com/26929-mama-first-ancestor-placental-mammals.html). No evolutionary advantage there, simply luck gave us rounded ears. Which meant the elves could simply have evolved from a similar ancestor – with pointed ears. There you go: instant Spock ears for the entire elven race.

The colors are another story. The question was more complex and has to do with environmental adaptation for survival. My answer was two-fold. Elves are often portrayed with uptilted eyes, an Asian feature. Science tells us many peoples in Asia have evolved this eye shape to deal with the glare of snow. The narrower the eyes, the less likely they are to be blinded by the reflection and in the north of Asia there is a lot of snow. Elves coming from a world mired in an ice age might well develop such eyes – it would be useful!

Finally, why would they be so pale? Again the answer is two-fold. One part has to do with sunlight and the production of vitamin D, needed for strong bones, healthy skin, nails and hair. People in the north of Europe, for instance, are pale, blond and blue-eyed. This is a light form of albinism which developed thousands of years ago, ensuring that the radiation of the feeble sunlight of the north was absorbed in much higher quantities in their skin to enhance the production of vitamin D, something the higher levels of melanin in the skin of most people would prevent (melanin is there to protect us from the harmful radiation of the sun. The stronger the sunlight, the more melanin is needed for protection, allowing just the right amount of radiation to go through for a healthy body...). So, you see, being pale in a world with practically no sunlight would be a good thing for these elves.

Then there’s the issue of camouflage. In a world where the elves are not the highest rank predators (well, hello dragons and wolves!), being able to hide easily would be paramount to their survival. Their paleness, combined with the bright lines flashing on skin and hair, would help them blend in the snow of their home world, in the way arctic foxes and polar bears do.

Where is the story set? The context is vaguely US but I haven’t picked a particular town. I hope you forgive me for this vagueness. Also for my obsession with dreams. I can’t help it.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering... I’m nothing like Ella. I’m more like Finn: the silent type. I also have no family from France or Scandinavia, although as a child I thought I was a changeling (still not sure I’m not). Regarding mothers: my mother is nothing like Ella’s, either. Mine is very supportive and we have a great relationship. Just thought to clear this up.

One last thing...

A huge thanks to all of you who followed my heroes on their adventures. I hope you enjoyed spending time with them. I am planning to write a second Season to the series. If you have enjoyed this series and if you would like a sequel, please write a review, it would mean the world to me.

About the Author

Greek Cypriot with a penchant for dark myths, good food, and a tendency to settle down anywhere but at home, Chrystalla likes to write about fantastical creatures, crazy adventures, and family bonds. She lives in Cyprus with her husband and her vast herds of books. She writes mainly fantasy and science fiction. Her dystopian YA science fiction series “Elei’s Chronicles” (Rex Rising, Rex Cresting, Rex Equilibrium) is available on Kindle and in print. Shorter stories set in that world are also available, and a Companion to the series is also in the plans.

Where to find all books and series: http://tinyurl.com/buth6k6

Other links:

Blog: http://chrystallathoma.wordpress.com

Twitter: http://twitter.com/chrystallathoma

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Author-Chrystalla-Thoma/117863861560579

Table of Contents

- Episode 1: The Encounter
- Episode 2: The Gate
- Episode 3: The Dragon
- Episode 4: The Dream
- Episode 5: The Truth
- Author’s Note