Read Online Boreal and John Grey Season 1 by Chrystalla Thoma - Free Book Online Page B

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