Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  “The tea the doctor gave you has been known to cause reactions in some paranormals. Sleeping without waking, night terrors, that sort of thing.” Mathias had already poured the eggs into the skillet when I turned back to him as he calmly continued, “I didn’t leave because I wanted to assure myself that you were all right, Lauren.”

  “Mathias . . .” I trailed off feeling foolish and also a little flushed at the thought that he was acting as though he truly cared. I cleared my throat as I forced myself to continue, “I wanted to say thank you. For saving me yesterday.”

  His head lowered slightly and he no longer looked toward me as he murmured, “And, I should be apologizing.”

  “For what?”

  “Not reaching you sooner. When I heard you scream, I didn’t know for certain where you were and I had to find you.”

  Without really registering it, I had moved across the kitchen to set my hand on his forearm. I could feel the tension in his muscles even as I gently replied, “You reached me before that man could do anything worse to me. I don’t know what was in the syringe but—”

  “Lamia’s tears.”

  My breath caught at the words. Lamia’s tears were a potent drug that some said were in fact made from the tears of the lamia. The norms had a drug called GHB that was somewhat similar to it, but Lamia’s tears were worse. The drug not only subdued a victim, but she would be incapable of resisting commands or suggestions for up to seventy-two hours. A terrifying vulnerability for anyone, much less among the paranormal community. Just the possession of the drug was enough to send a paranormal to a holding facility for a minimum of twenty years.

  I shook my head, pressing my lips together, and forced myself to step back as Mathias finished cooking the eggs. Mind still whirling around the implications of the attack, I sat down at the table and lowered my head into my good hand. Why would a man carrying Lamia’s tears attack me? My memory offered the hazy recollection of Mathias and the doctor both calling him a thrall. The lamia were counted among the most dangerous paranormals in all the world. Half-snake, half-women vampiric creatures who historically hunted children and men in addition to keeping basilisks as a type of pet since they were among the few creatures immune to both the basilisk’s gaze and venom. In fact, they would use basilisk venom to enthrall men into being their servants the few times they decided not to kill them outright. Fortunately, most of the lamia resided somewhere in Greece with their Queen Mother.

  A plate heaped with fluffy scrambled eggs, bacon, and a perfectly glazed cinnamon roll was set in front of me. I looked up to meet Mathias’ concerned gaze as he held out the sling. As I slipped my left arm into the sling, I couldn’t help asking, “Are you certain he was a thrall?”

  Mathias dipped his head. “There was a tattoo on his arm and more importantly there was a yellow ring around his eyes. It’s where the lamia injected the venom.”

  I shuddered. I hadn’t known the particulars of how the lamia blinded their thralls to all but their will. I wished rather fervently I still didn’t know. I had taken only a few bites of the eggs when a new thought occurred to me. “Are we late for work?”

  Mathias shook his head as he brought his own plate over and sat across from me. “No. It’s not even half past six.” He studied me for a long moment before he quietly asked, “Why would the lamia target you?”

  “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense.” I tried to focus on my food as I considered the matter. “There’s a colony of lamia in New Orleans. The wardens stationed in Los Angeles called on Halliman’s to conduct a forcible removal of a lamia who was attempting to establish a new colony there. But that happened over a year ago, in the summer, and I wasn’t involved at all. The chief warden in LA contacted Mr. Halliman directly and then the case went to the upper levels. It was far too delicate a matter for a regular secretary to be called in to assist. I only know what Beth told me.”

  Stabbing the last of the eggs with my fork, I added in a low voice, “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would they want me?”

  “Perhaps they . . .” Mathias trailed off.

  I glanced at him and he had the strangest look on his face. “Perhaps they what?”

  The weird look vanished and he cleared his throat. “Perhaps the thrall mistook you for Evers.”

  “The exec for logistics?”

  “She would have been involved in the removal of the lamia, would she not?”

  I frowned, lowering my fork as I considered it. “Well, yes, of course. But, we don’t look very much alike other than being short with dark hair.” She was actually taller than me even when not wearing her four-inch heels. I shook my head. “He must not have paid attention if your theory is correct.”

  Mathias didn’t answer. We both focused on breakfast and he still ate faster than I did. When he rose from the table, he lingered a moment almost as though there was something he wanted to say. Then he cleared his throat. “Lauren, I was wondering if I might be able to borrow your shower.”

  “Of course. Go ahead.”

  He nodded to me and then carried his plate over to the sink. I watched him vanish down the hall, then the sound of the shower running drifted to me. Resolving not to spend too much time thinking about that, I forced myself to keep eating. At first, I had been certain Mathias had cooked too much food but as I polished off my cinnamon roll, my stomach growled. I helped myself to another roll and moved to the couch, turning on the TV.

  I had bought cable to get faster internet speeds and, since my provider was a paranormal-run company, it included the local paranormal news channel. I watched for a few minutes, feeling relieved when no hint of an incident at Halliman’s was reported. They must have decided it was better to keep things quiet. The mark of a skilled PR firm, after all.

  I moved to turn off the TV, but paused when a news bulletin appeared. The announcers, a stern looking Seelie Fae and a bubbly Sprite, both grew solemn as the Sprite read her cue cards. “Another disappearance among the paranormal community. Santiago Rodriguez, age forty-five, was last seen two weeks ago in Buenos Aires, Argentina. It has now come to our attention that his disappearance is similar to those of two other men. Tanaka Aito, age fifty-seven, of Okinawa, Japan and Eli Levy, age forty-nine, of Jerusalem, Israel.”

  Her co-anchor who looked rather like he came directly from the Seelie high court took up the narrative as the pictures of the three men were shown. “In addition, it has come to light that all three men were Spotters.”

  The blood drained from my face as I stared at the screen. They were Spotters? The anchor was still talking, his voice far too calm, too steady. “Videos have been released of all three men reacting to something no one else saw and then alerting wardens or security personnel. We have access to those videos, and we will be able to show them in just a few minutes.”

  I sat frozen, my half-eaten cinnamon roll growing cold, as I watched the videos. Each man reacted to a non-descript character, staring at the air above their heads. When the authorities were contacted, the non-threatening appearance faded away in favor of an attempted rampage. But they were stopped. The Spotters would then slip into the crowds disappearing from the cameras’ view.

  The news went to a commercial after the anchors promised to bring a cultural expert on the show to discuss why the men were believed to be Spotters and why it was significant. I couldn’t move. Everything in me was screaming at me to grab my go bag and make my own disappearance before someone did it for me. I had never used my talent in public. I had never physically approached the authorities about a problem paranormal. I was careful, I kept my head down, and the few times I had seen dangerously high numbers before Mathias had shown up at Halliman’s, I would use the anonymous tip line from a well-sheltered payphone and always wearing something to hide my appearance from any cameras. And, I never mentioned numbers. I only mentioned suspicious behavior. And, I always moved away from the area as soon as I could, leaving no forwarding address.

  I numbly finished off my now-cold cinna
mon roll but it tasted like dust. It was a struggle to swallow. Moving mechanically, I went back into the kitchen and rolled the sleeve of my sweater even further up as I washed off the soaking skillet and then placed it in the dishwasher. Mathias had already done the bulk of the cleaning so it didn’t take me nearly as long as I wished.

  The sound of the news drew me back into the living room, and I sank onto the couch once more. Trying to keep myself from panicking even as I was unable to turn away from the conversation about Spotters and their rarity. When the expert was joined by a man from Weard Enterprises, I shuddered. The newcomer looked like a dangerous man and he wore it like a cloak. Unseelie Fae perhaps or a shifter of some kind. I took in his strong jaw and crooked nose that had been broken at least once, the cold brown eyes reminded me of pebbles, and his head was shaved but there were Celtic tribal tattoos stamped in blue on the left side of his scalp. Whatever his species, he was certainly a high number. I couldn’t see numbers when I wasn’t in direct line of sight, but I would guess the man was a 7.

  One of the anchors asked a question and the man let out a chuckle that made me lean back, hair standing on the back of my neck. “Maybe the Spotters disappeared because they’re plotting something.”

  The cultural expert had an expression as though she had witnessed him sprouting a second head. And, this was despite the fact that she was in the studio in New York and he was in Chicago. She huffed. “The Spotters have historically been among the most peaceful of all paranormals. They are not the type to plot anything.”

  Except how to get away from attention. I studied the man from Weard as he listened to her retort. “Even the most peaceful paranormals have their breaking points. Just ask the Sprites about their feuds with the Unseelie or with the Satyrs.” The Sprite’s wings started beating hard and fast as her face turned red, and she hovered nearly a foot higher than she had been. Her co-anchor rested a hand on her arm before the video feed switched to the man from Weard as he continued, “Spotters aren’t as harmless as one might think. They see people’s potential and they make judgments on the rest of the paranormal community, deciding who should or shouldn’t be in a room or at the park.”

  “That isn’t accurate at all,” the expert interjected, her voice strained. “The Spotters helped us. They identified threats before lives could be lost. They didn’t carry out a prejudiced purge against their neighbors.”

  “In the past, perhaps. But we’re talking about Spotters today and other than these three, how do we know how many are still out there? Blocking someone from a hospital, a job, or an education? And Spotters were involved in two purges in our history or have you forgotten?”

  I turned it off, not able to stand another word. If the man from Weard succeeded in spreading those tales . . . it would become even more dangerous for Spotters. However many of us were left.

  “Don’t worry, Lauren.”

  I looked up so sharply that my neck gave a twinge in protest. Mathias was staring down at me, his hair still a little damp, but his eyes were . . . gentle and concerned. His accent washed over me as he continued softly, “I’ll keep you safe.”

  “Thank you but I can’t accept that,” I forced the words out. Drawing a breath, I rose to my feet as I added, “I can’t ask you to do that for me. You have your career, and you shouldn’t jeopardize it for a woman you barely know.”

  “I rather thought we had gotten to know each other a little better than that, Lauren.”

  My cheeks grew warm as I recalled everything I had confided to him. Things I hadn’t confided to a single soul since I was abandoned. But wasn’t it better to cut ties now instead of waiting for him to do it? I opened my mouth, intending to tell him he needed to leave and stop coming around, but instead different words came out. “Do you think they know about me?”

  For some reason he looked torn. “I’m . . . I am not certain what they know but if they haven’t sent a group of hunters to Olympia, then they don’t know anything for certain. Reubens is trying to flush Spotters out of hiding. By making them worry about being misjudged, he’s trying to make them come out of hiding to prove they aren’t the enemy.” His hand rested on my good shoulder, a spot of warmth that I enjoyed far too much, as he added quietly, “Stay cautious, Lauren, but don’t break your routines. Nothing catches a hunter’s attention faster than broken routines.”

  I nodded, unable to trust myself to speak.

  He stepped away but the warmth from his hand lingered, distracting me just a little. “I have to go to work.”

  “We can go together.”

  He looked at me for a long moment. “Are you certain?”

  I offered a smile I didn’t feel. “I can’t break my routine, remember?” My smile faded as I continued, “And . . . I have to talk to Sharon about her offer.”

  Mathias gave me a curious look but said nothing. I took the opportunity to hurry back to my room. I showered quickly and dressed in a fresh pencil skirt, burgundy blouse, and a charcoal grey coat to match my skirt. Fortunately, the tea’s effects were still in place, and I was able to move my left arm a little although I slipped the sling back on once I changed. I slipped on a pair of heels and then grabbed my purse.

  Mathias was waiting with my keys in hand. He looked me over and then nodded. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  Mathias

  I kept glancing at Lauren out of the corner of my eye as I drove her car to Halliman’s. She looked much improved over last night. Yet, there was an air of wariness around her that made me wish she had remained in her apartment. Seeing the broadcast hadn’t helped matters either.

  “What does Mrs. Pope want with you?”

  “To offer me the permanent position on the exec level,” she replied without looking away from her window. “She even promised I would be groomed to be attached to a junior executive.”

  “A significant promotion,” I mused.

  She nodded, still not looking at me.

  “What are you going to tell her?”

  “That I can’t handle the stress of the position given last night’s incident.” Lauren drummed her fingers against the dash as she murmured, “I’ll use your theory. That he mistook me for someone on the exec level. It’s a perfectly reasonable response. I’ll ask to go back to the fourth floor. Tammy would be a good fit for the job though. I’ll recommend her or Beth. Beth would excel at that sort of job. I’ll recommend Beth.” She nodded more to herself than anything.

  “Do you think that wise?”

  “I’m going to need to tender my resignation,” she replied softly.

  “You like it here. Your job, the people. Why leave it now?”

  She finally looked at me and something in me ached at the sight of the sorrow in her eyes. “If Spotters are being targeted, it’s only a matter of time before someone reads the incident report regarding Harry with a more suspicious eye. If people are stirred up enough, they won’t wait for confirmation that I’m a Spotter. They’ll jump at any hint of it. And, I don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me. It wouldn’t be right or fair to ask that of them.”

  “Changing your routine now is unwise.”

  “Not leaving would be worse in the long run. I’ve been at the center of two attacks now. It’s more than enough cause for anyone to seek employment elsewhere,” she stated. There was a tremor of uncertainty or even fear in her voice when she spoke. She was still trying to convince herself.

  I frowned. “Where will you go?”

  Lauren glanced at me, opened her mouth, shut it, and then offered a little smile. “I don’t know right now and when I do . . . I don’t know if I should tell you.”

  “I wouldn’t betray you.”

  “I know. But, I don’t want to put that burden of keeping anything else from your employer on you.” She studied me for a moment before she said softly, “I think you carry enough secrets as it is without me giving you more. What you’ve done so far . . . I could never hope to repay you for it.”

  My grip tightened
on the steering wheel as I resisted reaching over to her. She wasn’t mine. I fell silent and the rest of the drive was in utter silence. Parking next to my own car, I didn’t turn the engine off right away. Instead, I looked at Lauren. “When you go home tonight, put your go bag in your car. Keep it close at hand in case I’m wrong.”

  Her dark eyes grew wide and she nodded. “Thank you, Mathias. For everything.”

  I turned off the car and got out. Walking around to the passenger side, I opened her door. When I handed her the keys, the feel of her soft skin beneath my fingers was . . . distracting. “Be careful, Lauren.”

  We walked into the lift together and rode up before I stepped off at the sixth floor. Lauren offered me a fleeting smile before the doors closed and the lift went up to the exec level. Forcing myself to focus, I strode across the lobby passing the statue of Heracles and entering the security suites. I didn’t stop until I reached the office two doors down from my own. I wrapped on the door once before opening it. Charlie was just settling into his desk. A shifter from the Upper Chehalis tribe, he was among the most competent of Halliman’s security members and he headed the ERT division. I found him trustworthy as well in my interactions with him. The bear shifter’s eyes lifted to mine with deliberate calm as he said, “The wardens came in and deported the thrall to New Orleans just before midnight.”

  Cold fury filled me but I forced it away as I asked tightly, “And, what of the fact he not only attacked a woman but was carrying a syringe filled with Lamia’s tears?”

  Charlie’s expression darkened and his black eyes lightened to tawny yellow as his voice deepened with hints of a grumbling roar. “They lost the evidence after I turned it over and so it’s our word alone. Not enough to offend the lamia over, it would seem. The colony has been too testy since we handled a forcible removal last July. No one knows if the colony has a pet basilisk, and no one wants to risk its presence.”