Flight by Numbers

by Kimberly A Rogers

  While eating the jerky since it was the easiest of the rations, I flipped through the pages to find the ‘S’ entries. Spotters. I wanted to know more about Spotters. Something in me twisted when I realized my species was included in the rare and extinct listings. I shook the feeling away as I focused on reading the far too brief information about my own kind.

  The entry held much of the information I already knew about our ability to see numbers and how we eventually became targets. That was something taught in schools when discussing the great purges of paranormal history, and the reason only the ambassadorial species were permitted to interact openly with the norms. Naturally, there were exceptions in the older norm countries such as the British Isles, Eastern Europe, and of course Greece, the birthplace of so many monstrous paranormals and the home to so many myths. Even then, only the approved ambassadorial species such as the centaurs, the satyrs, the dryads and naiads, and the sylphs were allowed to openly inhabit the mixed areas of paranormal and norm. Creatures such as river trolls were folklore and accepted by norms as part of the quirks of living in a world with paranormals, but they fully trusted that the Fae courts would tend to such matters.

  It was such a delicate balance between our species, not only with each other but also with the norms. The purges conducted by paranormals on other paranormals were horrible pieces of our past, but the purges carried out in the middle ages by the norms had been brutal to both paranormal and innocent norms caught in neighbors’ prejudices or feuds. Enough that paranormals had nearly used glamours to fade entirely from the world of the norms, save for a few stubborn members of the Fae courts. Eventually, the paranormal community came together and agreed to allow norms to know about some of our kind and the rest would fade into legend and myth. For the good of us all.

  It was why paranormals who had been 10s were once more deemed too dangerous. My finger shook as I traced over the list of 10s included in the Spotters entry. Those names . . . Nimrod, Achilles, Alexander the Great, and Hannibal. All of them 10s, and all but one known for their cunning intellect as much as their ambition and power. Men who would have ruled over both paranormals and norms, whose names still lived on among both communities, if not for happenstance, an act of God some said. Because no one in the paranormal or norm communities at the time when we still acted in unison for the most part had been able to stop those men in their conquests of the world. Hannibal had been the last. The name of Achilles still carried terrible weight in the paranormal community because his madness and lack of restraint destroyed his entire species. The Myrmidons.

  Mathias was a 10. I didn’t know his species, but I knew that for him to be a 10 at all times even when sleeping, there was only one thing that was certain. He must number among the most dangerous paranormals walking the world today. I needed to know more about 10s. I started flipping through the pages searching for an entry on the numbers Spotters saw. There wasn’t a guarantee that there would be a separate entry for the 10s, but perhaps there would be one for the number scale. Perhaps even a list of the species falling under the highest numbers.

  I had just found the entry for the number scale when the door rattled. I dropped the book and clapped my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming. For a terrifying moment, I was seeing Weard hunters helped by locals surrounding the cottage. I couldn’t move. Maybe if I didn’t move, they would go away. Then, there was a thumping knock on the door. “Lauren! Open the door.”

  Mathias. Oh thank God, it was Mathias’ voice.

  Relief warred with annoyance as I scooped the book up off the floor. I brushed the dust off the cover and checked the delicate pages for any damage, then tucked it back into his bag before I hobbled over to move the chair.

  When Mathias stepped inside, he didn’t question me on the chair sitting right next to the door. He only went to get our bags. I moved in front of the door to stop him. “Wait a minute, what are you doing?”

  “We need to get a move on. I don’t want to waste any time.”

  “Where did you go this time? And, where are we going now?”

  “To get our new transportation. Come on. We don’t have much time.”

  I frowned at him, but he didn’t seem to notice as he settled back on his heels to wait for me to get out of the way. Finally, I caved and moved out of his way before following him. I stopped short at the sight of three shaggy horses standing in the snow. They stood calmly, not even acting as though they noticed the weather around them. He couldn’t be serious, though. “Mathias.”

  “You can ride,” he grunted as he secured our bags to the third horse’s back before covering them with a pale tarp that was only a shade lighter than the horse’s pale grey coat. “I checked with the doctor before leaving Edinburgh.”

  He had been planning to put me on a horse in the middle of a cold, snowy, sleet filled night since Edinburgh. This concerned me. I hobbled over to the smaller of the two saddled horses and stroked its neck. “I can’t get in the saddle.”

  “They’re the only way to reach our destination,” Mathias stated firmly but quietly. Then, he was standing next to me. “I will help you, Lauren. But, you need to trust me.”

  I eyed the horses again. The two wearing saddles were both black and their manes were streaked with different colors. The larger of the two had shimmering green streaks while the one I stood beside had pale silvery blue streaks. A quick glance at the grey confirmed it had amber-colored streaks. All three horses had flowing manes and tails along with feathering on their lower legs. They were gorgeous. But . . . “Won’t it be too cold for them?”

  “No. These are Fae ponies. They’re born and raised in the highlands. This is nothing for them.”

  “Fae ponies,” I repeated. I looked them over again. Perhaps it was the foot of difference in our heights, but these horses certainly didn’t look like ponies to me. They stood somewhere between fourteen and fifteen hands at the shoulder with the exception of the larger black who was definitely closer to sixteen and a half hands at the least. But, there was a certain poetic lilt to the name of ‘Fae ponies’ over ‘Fae horses’ and the Fae were well known for their love of poetic romanticism. I stroked the smaller horse’s neck again as I murmured, “The ones you only whisper a destination to and they can bring you there?”

  “Perhaps not quite where we are going, but they will get us through the Flow Country by following the fae paths. And, their passage won’t cause the same amount of disturbance.”

  I so wanted to agree to ride a Fae pony, but my sense of self-preservation piped up. It was rather good at spoiling some of my desires. I stroked the horse’s mane longingly, then slowly withdrew my hand as I turned to Mathias. I blushed when I met his intense gaze. Struggling to remind myself that I needed to use my head and not my heart, I quickly broke the silence. “How lovely but, Mathias, I do not think I should go riding with my ankle still in a, umm, vulnerable condition.” His gaze only seemed to increase in intensity throwing off my planned argument. “Since it’s not healed,” I finished rather lamely.

  Mathias was silent for a long moment and then he nodded, gaze flickering away. He was staring off toward the glamour covered cottages when he stated quietly, “I can take you to Wick and put you on a plane to Aberdeen. You’ll have to make your own way from there. You should head into Europe. More places to hide. And, stay away from Turkey.”

  “What will you do?”

  He shrugged. “I will try to keep the hunters from finding you.”

  “You would go hunting for them, wouldn’t you?” I whispered, my heart already battering at my ribs at the mere thought of Mathias going back to face the hunters. What was he thinking?

  He wouldn’t look at me as he murmured, “If we are not in hiding, it will be better that way.”

  “No, it won’t.” I didn’t even know why I was protesting. But, I knew letting him go now would end very poorly for him and, perhaps, many others. He was a 10, but in this moment he needed protection. I rested my hand on the horse’s neck to stead
y myself as I handed him my crutches. “Help me on.”

  “You wish to go with me?”

  “I wish to keep you from doing anything foolish,” I replied a little more tartly than perhaps was wise. But, in that moment I didn’t care.

  Mathias didn’t say a word as had now become the norm for him. Instead, he wrapped his hands around my waist and easily settled me in the saddle. I ignored the feeling of loss when his hands slipped away. Now was not the time to dwell on my feelings. I needed to figure out a plan of my own. One for making Mathias talk to me, so I understood what was going on with him.

  * * *

  Lauren

  It turned out that Flow Country was a massive blanket bog. If not for the Fae ponies’ uncanny knowledge of the fae paths, I was certain it would have been far more difficult to traverse the mix of peatland and wetland. Even with their remarkable skill at picking their way through the bog, it was still disconcerting at times when we passed by scraggly trees that looked more like petrified fossils. Or the times when the snow dusted strips of peat floated away on the ripples caused by our passage.

  The Fae ponies never shied, though. They merely forged ahead at a rolling pace that was faster than a walk but not as bouncy as a trot, which was certainly a relief for me. If I had to be stuck traversing a bog on horseback in January, then I didn’t want every step jarring my ankle. I patted my horse’s neck as she followed Mathias’ horse, toying with one of the silvery blue streaks in her black mane, as I eyed the brackish water surrounding us. It wasn’t that I didn’t still trust Mathias would pick a less danger prone route to wherever it was we were going. It was more that I was very aware of the stories about the dangers of peat bogs because one of my foster families had been Hobgoblins and they loved a good scary story. It didn’t help that their two teenage sons particularly loved the stories about the bogs in the old country, preferences of the new seven-year-old not withstanding.

  Fortunately, the fae paths also seemed to deter any of the more dangerous paranormals who would be at home in a bog. No sign of any kelpies or nasty redcaps. Of course, the redcaps were more attracted to the sites of great battles, which might explain why they were most often found haunting the border between England and Scotland . . . and also Hadrian’s Wall. I had never seen a redcap, but the goblin was known to be prone to preying on anyone it thought weak even though they were normally too cowardly to be more than scavengers following the more dangerous and powerful paranormals.

  As we reached a somewhat firmer hillock of peat jutting out of the bog, I came up with another reason for the absence of the bog’s natural predators. Perhaps, they simply didn’t believe anyone would be foolish enough to travel through the bog in winter. Mathias didn’t build a fire for our camp. All he did was lay out the tarp as a form of protection against the frozen ground. We ate some cold cut sandwiches that I suspected he had gotten from the Brownie or perhaps whoever he went to in order to borrow the Fae ponies.

  I watched the bog around us, waiting for a kelpie to poke its head out of the water with weeds and rivulets of water streaming from its mane and eyes that glowed red. Something brushed against my shoulder and I jumped, a scream shattering the silence before I clamped a hand over my mouth. A noisy snort came from my left and I looked up to find the horse I had been riding gazing down at me. I lowered my hand from my mouth only to press it against my pounding heart. “Your manners are deplorable, Blue.”

  “Blue?”

  It was the first time Mathias had spoken to me since we left Altnabreac. And, the first time he almost sounded like his old self in far too long. I stroked the horse’s nose as she lipped at my sleeve. “What else would I call her?”

  “Her name is Ailsa.”

  I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him and instead continued stroking Ailsa’s nose. “As though I would have any way to know their names.”

  There was no response and I bent my head. Perhaps I shouldn’t have made the remark. Then, Mathias’ gloved hand covered Ailsa’s nose right above my own hand. His presence was warm against my side, but his voice was soft and low as he quietly said, “Sometimes silence is necessary for protection.”

  Before I could think of a response to that odd pronouncement, Mathias spoke again. “The big black is Artair. He’s Ailsa’s mate. The grey gelding is called Fife.”

  As he spoke, his hand came down so it now covered my fingers as well as Ailsa’s nose. The contact was so small and yet it zinged through me with painful awareness. I peeked at him out of the corner of my eye, curious if he was . . . feeling anything really. He seemed completely unaffected and focused on the Fae pony. Which was a good thing . . . It had to be a good thing because now was not the time to be distracted by this attraction I had for him.

  With that in mind, I carefully slipped my hand out from beneath his. Clearing my throat, I leaned away from where he was crouched next to me in an attempt to subtly distance myself from his warmth. It was far too distracting right now. Maybe we had been stuck with each other too long. “Do you, umm, do you know how much longer we’ll be travelling?”

  “Yes, I know. I didn’t bring you into the Flow Country without an idea of when to leave.” The almost familiar nuances in his voice were a thing of comfort. Then Mathias stood up. I watched him walk over to Artair and Fife, checking their feedbags, and tried not to feel too much about him. As happy as I was that he was talking to me again, I still didn’t want to get caught up in my feelings for him while on the run. It was, well, it was quite frankly stupid of me to let my heart get so involved.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and tried not to shiver as the wind picked up. More sleet began falling from the dark clouds threatening to completely cover the moon. Aisla wandered back over to her mate and they both moved closer to Fife. Mathias came back over and handed me a folded blanket. “Get some rest.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  I hesitated but Mathias was already moving to the far side of the tarp. He stretched out on his back and folded his hands on his stomach. No blanket or any attempt to protect himself from the elements. Maybe he was one of the paranormals who weren’t as affected by the cold or he was just being a typical male and in denial that he had any need for extra protection. I unfolded the blanket, which was definitely wide enough for two. Shaking my head, I resigned myself to the inevitable. “Mathias? We should sleep together.”

  As soon as the words left my mouth, I choked. Mathias sat up and looked at me so fast it was a wonder he didn’t get whiplash. My face was so hot that I could only be grateful that it was night and clouding up fast. “That’s not how I meant it! I only meant I don’t want the guilt of you freezing to death because you decided you’re too macho or something ridiculous with your male ego to make the practical decision. We don’t have all the blankets and it is freezing out here. Therefore, it makes the most sense for us to combine body heat.” I grimaced realizing that didn’t sound much better. “Sleeping next to each other will let us share the blanket. That’s all I meant.”

  I finally clamped my lips together stopping the word vomit. Aaaand, I was no longer averse to being dragged into the brackish water by a hungry kelpie. I wanted to bury my face in my hands, but that would be a touch too undignified with Mathias watching me with that same stunned expression on his face. Finally, I just lay down and pulled the blanket up to my chin, over half of the material fluttering down on the tarp beside me. Lord, just take me now. Heaving a sigh, I closed my eyes. Maybe a kelpie would eat me while I slept.

  The blanket moved and my eyes popped back open. After a moment, I turned my head. Mathias was settling down on his back a scant hands breadth away from me. He looked over at me and for the first time in a long time, the corner of his mouth turned up in a half smile. “I’m assuming this is the offer you meant.”

  My face was burning, but I still managed to nod. Mathias turned his gaze back to the sky and adjusted his flat cap to shield most of his face from the sleet. At first, I
thought he had immediately fallen asleep but then he spoke again. “I wanted you to know that I appreciate your concern for my well being, Hope.” He paused and then added in a far too casual tone, “Do you need me to kiss you good night?”

  “Shut up, Mathias!” I hissed, finally provoked into responding. I turned my face away from him and rearranged my shawl to better shield my too hot cheeks. From the sleet. And, perhaps, the impossible 10 now laying beside me. At least we weren’t touching.

  The thought of touching Mathias immediately set off visions of him kissing me. Good night. Hello. Forever. I stifled a groan as I squeezed my eyes shut. I did not need this right now. At all. Somehow, I finally fell asleep without dying of sheer embarrassment.

  When I woke up, it was to the sound of horses’ snorting. I was curled on my side and my head was resting on . . . Mathias’ chest with my hand gripping his coat . . . again. I was pressed up against his side with his hand resting just above my hip. I blinked in the gloom and carefully leaned up pushing myself away from Mathias’ chest. This was twice now I had found myself clinging to Mathias in my sleep. Fortunately, he was still asleep.

  Half sitting, half laying next to him, my efforts to get out of the awkward situation slowed as my gaze was caught by his sleeping face. He looked . . . younger, still handsome, but the weight and coldness that had been carving its mark on him was missing. I caught myself just before my gloved fingers touched his cheek. What was I doing?

  Scolding myself, I carefully moved Mathias’ hand off my waist and wriggled away from him. I forced myself to crawl away until I could stagger to my good foot again. Ailsa was nosing the grass but abandoned it in favor of coming over to me, allowing me to brace myself against her withers.

  Almost at once, there was a rustle of movement behind me and I glanced back to see Mathias was sitting up, his eyes on me. The expression on his face was completely unreadable. Had he been awake when I pulled away?