Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  One of the anchors was speaking, her voice warm. “It is an immense pleasure of course to have Deirdre Ahearn performing in the British Isles again. Born in poverty and originally from Wick, Scotland, Miss Ahearn was discovered by her now manager at the tender age of nine and immediately invited to sing with the Royal Seelie Court choir. In the twenty-three years since that discovery, Deirdre Ahearn’s career as an operatic singer has soared to unheard of heights as she performs around the world not only at operas, but also as a classical pop crossover artist gaining fans among both paranormal and norm communities. Her recent hiatus from singing at public operas this last year has done nothing to stem that rise in popularity as her now exclusive concerts sell out at more than two million pounds a night. Tonight’s concert at the Royal Opera House in London is already rumored to have earned Miss Ahearn two point five million pounds with tickets selling for more simply because it is the first public concert she’s performed since her unexpected appearance at the Yule meeting of the Seelie and Unseelie courts in Yellowstone National Park across the pond in the States.”

  The picture suddenly changed from Deirdre Ahearn, who was now looking at the stern faced man gripping her elbow and pushing her to keep moving instead of lingering to speak with people, to the anchors in the studio. Both Light Elves were looking at each other, almost perplexed, before the two women turned to the camera and nodded. The slightly older of the two spoke now. “We interrupt our scheduled program to bring breaking news from the States. Todd?”

  The camera view cut in half to include a male reporter with the bearing of a shifter and then his brown eyes gleamed gold for a flash as he cleared his throat. “Thank you, Amber. Janet. Our breaking news comes from the spokesperson for Weard Enterprises, the premiere security firm of the paranormal community based in Chicago. A few hours ago Oscar Reubens announced a surprise press release, which we will now play as the press conference has just begun.”

  His half of the screen switched to a room with Reubens poised behind a podium. I grit my teeth as I watched the man who dared to attack Lauren all those months ago. I hadn’t killed him at the time because doing so would only have aggravated Weard further. Now, I was beginning to regret not taking care of him. The Unseelie Fae’s nose was even more crooked than it had been, no doubt curtesy of my breaking it for a second time, and his cold brown eyes swept his audience as he reached up to trace a finger over the Celtic tribal tattoos stamped in blue on the left side of his scalp. And this was the man the new management at Weard had elected as their spokesperson. Fools.

  Reubens’ voice was as unfeeling as ever when he broke his silence. “Ladies and gentlemen, the people at Weard Enterprises are devoted to protecting our kind. The paranormal society as a whole can miss lurking dangers because they seem small and innocent. Tonight I’m here to inform you of a currently unfolding case. Several months ago Weard employees, including myself, were dispatched to apprehend a suspected criminal hiding in Olympia, Washington after we learned she was attempting to bring down the Yule summit by infiltrating Halliman’s.

  “Unfortunately, she was suspicious enough that any change set her off and she vanished before we could take her into custody. We have placed a number of our best people on the task of finding this woman because an attempt on the summit between the two courts as well as a number of other powerful members of the paranormal community was a threat we couldn’t ignore. So far this woman has remained hidden. Now, we are focused on turning this woman’s refuge inhospitable and so we are asking for the public’s help.”

  A picture flashed on the screen, one of Lauren smiling tentatively at the camera, as Reubens continued speaking. “This is Lauren Hope. She has been confirmed as a Spotter, which means she will not feel dangerous to those of us who sense powerful paranormals. However, make no mistake that she is in fact dangerous. Her discontent over the apparent abuse of Spotters in our history has led her to go rogue. She is of Turkish descent and is thirty years of age, five foot two inches tall, between one hundred and one hundred and ten pounds, slender build, with dark hair, and dark brown eyes. If you see her, call the tip line that will connect you directly with Weard’s hunters.”

  I didn’t stay around to hear more. A glance at my watch assured me that I still had at least twenty minutes before Lauren would move into post-op. We wouldn’t be able to stay at the bed and breakfast now. I wasn’t mentioned in the broadcast, but I didn’t want to risk our hosts suspecting Lauren. My presence could deter reports since Lauren wasn’t mentioned with an accomplice, but it was too great a risk.

  As I ran out of the hospital and flagged down a taxi, cold fury threatened to rise to the surface at the thought of Weard’s attempt to hem us in and flush us into the open. With effort, I forced the icy blindness to everything but the desire for restoring justice away. Now was not the time for tunnel vision. I needed to think clearly if I was going to keep Lauren safe.

  * * *

  Mathias

  The safe house was cold. I turned on the portable heater and stored our go bags in the two small bedrooms. The house nestled in one of the underground vaults beneath the tail of Old Town Edinburgh was not designed to be easily found. It would be close quarters, but the separate sleeping areas would hopefully provide enough distance from Lauren that my ill advised vow wouldn’t weigh as heavily. Or so I hoped.

  I stocked the narrow pantry as fast as I could before I left the safe house again. Walking down a narrow hall and then climbing a flight of stairs to reach the entry out onto the close was easy, but it would take a touch more care when bringing Lauren down. The maze of narrow streets and underground levels created by the historic lands or tenement buildings was one of the reasons I had set up the safe house in Old Town. I pulled the hood of my coat up and ducked my head down as I emerged from the enclosed tunnel onto the tail end of the Royal Mile. The wide street was almost deserted as most locals and even the tourists had retreated indoors with the hour of sunlight already gone for the day. A wintry mix of sleet and light rain fell around me. Only when I was a good distance from the close leading to the safe house did I hail a taxi. It was probably past time to rejoin Lauren.

  By the time I returned to the waiting room, the nurse was there. Her wings fluttered nervously, not quite lifting her off the floor, as she peered up at me. “Your wife is in post-op, Mr. Jones. The doctor is waiting to speak to you. Come with me.”

  I followed her, the scent of disinfectant strong and accompanied by the sounds of various machines. When we reached the far end of the hall and turned down another, the doctor stepped out of a room in the center of the right hand wall. He nodded to me. “Mr. Jones. The surgery was successful and the cast is in place. It will keep your wife’s foot immobile. It is important that—”

  I ignored the doctor as the sound of running steps filled the hall. Whirling to see three men rushing toward us, I didn’t hesitate to charge. I recognized two of the men as hunters from Weard, and no doubt their companion was the same. Weard must be worried if they’re sending teams of three. My only concern was stopping them from reaching Lauren.

  I slammed a fist into the closest one’s temple sending him stumbling to the floor. Then, the other two both crashed into me sending us all against the wall. Cold flowed through me narrowing my awareness of the world. All that mattered was stopping the enemy. They had committed crimes, and now it was time for their sentencing.

  I blocked a blow to my head and landed three fast hard hits against a set of ribs. They cracked and one enemy fell back. The other two surged forward. I took two hits to my ribs and an elbow to the face. I grabbed a wrist and gave it a wrench, hearing the satisfying sound of a crack. Pain cut into my awareness but ice replaced it, honed it into a weapon as I turned to face the source. A blade glinted in the hand of one of the men, but he was no longer facing me. He was heading away. Toward the only one who mattered beyond the ice.

  That thought drove me to fight faster, harder. I slammed one enemy’s head against the wall and let his limp
form drop to the floor. The second man tried to get between me and the one hunting her. I grabbed him by the neck and put him in a hold. He sagged, but not soon enough. The remaining enemy had nearly reached the door. I ran faster. The door opened, and a new voice barked a command for the enemy to stop. I pushed myself faster, the cold honing my observations with precision. Reaching the man, I grabbed him by the coat and yanked him out of the room before he fully passed through the doorway.

  More pain honed into an icy weapon as I planted myself between the door and the hunter. The fool raised his blade and sneered. “We don’t have to bring her in alive.”

  It was the wrong thing to tell me.

  I lunged forward. We grappled for a brief moment before my momentum carried us down to the floor, the knife still gripped in his hand. He jerked when we landed, and I heard his rattling breath fade to nothingness.

  I jumped back to my feet at the sound of footsteps and whirled to face the new threat. The flash of diaphanous wings cut through my icy view, and I stopped shy of attacking. A pale Sprite hovered in front of me. She whispered, “Get in the room, now.”

  The grip of my cold fury eased when I entered the room and saw her face. Lauren. She was still sedated, but her breathing was steady. The doctor was pulling more bandages out of a cupboard. He set them on the counter and then called to the Sprite, Eileen. I ignored their hushed conversation as I went to Lauren’s bedside and gently clasped her limp hand. I could feel her pulse fluttering beneath my fingers, and the knowledge further pushed the cold back. She was safe.

  “Mr. Jones?”

  I turned to find the Sprite hovering near the foot of Lauren’s hospital bed. She looked nervous, but determination laced her voice when she next spoke. “I’m ready to bind your wounds now.”

  I allowed the attention only because I knew the cuts were shallow. In the end, a few butterfly sutures and a wrap took care of it. I had just finished buttoning my shirt when the doctor walked back into the room. He handed me a heavy wool coat and a bag. “The two survivors are locked up. The third man is in the morgue. A John Doe suffering a fatal mishap.” He nodded to the bag. “Supplies and instructions for care. She shouldn’t put any weight on that foot for at least a week. Longer, if possible. Get her to a doctor for a reassessment if she feels any severe prolonged pain.”

  “I need to get a taxi for us. Can your nurse get her up and dressed while I take care of it?”

  “Yes.”

  I shrugged into the heavy coat and then took the bag. With one last look at Lauren to reassure myself, I followed the doctor out of the room. By the time I called a taxi including giving the hobgoblin a generous tip for waiting and made it back upstairs, Lauren was conscious if still somewhat drowsy and fully dressed. As soon as I picked her up, she curled against my chest, clutching at my borrowed coat . . . and the desire to keep her close swept over me. I shook the impulse away and focused on getting Lauren out of the hospital. If God was merciful, perhaps we would escape without further encounters with hunters.

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  Mathias

  “The hunt for the rogue Spotter, Lauren Hope, continues to spread across the globe with Weard Enterprises reporting sightings ranging from the Americas to Shanghai.”

  I kept one eye on the telly as I waited for the fish and chips to be ready. The one thing the safe house lacked was a connection to the outside world, especially since I had never replaced the burners I tossed when we first went on the run. After surviving four days on bread and soup, I wanted to bring Lauren something a little more filling. This combined with a need for news prompted me to venture out of the safe house and to one of the many pubs lining the Royal Mile. There were increased murmurs in the crowd when the anchor announced a hefty reward for tips leading to Lauren’s capture.

  Tugging the brim of my cap down to further shadow my face, I watched the other patrons closely from my position in a back corner of the pub. Most were regulars, their bodies and interactions relaxed as they commiserated on a variety of woes or celebrated their triumphs for the day. But, there was a newcomer. The man came in after I ordered the food and was now slowly walking toward the bar. He occasionally stopped to talk to the patrons, showing a picture.

  “Take-away!”

  I kept my pace unhurried and relaxed as I moved to fetch the take-away bag of fish and chips. As I made my way to the door, I heard one of the patrons laugh. “Canna help you, mate. She doesn’t look memorable to me. Maybe you should come back when the tourists are here in force. It’s a touch cold for their liking.”

  A quick glance in a mirror hanging on the wall showed the newcomer scowling at the seated man. He shoved the picture back into his coat pocket and then bared his teeth. “Maybe you should think harder. I smell a lie.”

  The sound of chairs scraping against the floor was loud in the suddenly silent pub. The local now towered over the hunter. “I think an apology’s in order. Don’t you, boys?”

  At the low rumble of ayes, I kept moving. All too soon there was the sound of breaking glass, and then a brawl broke out just as I escaped out the door and into the courtyard. I shook my head as I hurried away. Whoever trained that hunter had been a fool. Challenging unknown paranormals and especially impugning their honor was never a wise move, and almost always certain to end in disaster. But, it had kept the hunter from noticing me so I had a little grace.

  Although now I was certain it would be too dangerous to stay around Edinburgh for much longer. Something that was troublesome given the fact Lauren was still healing. But that was the third hunter I had seen today, all of them slowly working their way through Old Town. It would be difficult to continue hiding from them if they suspected I knew a place in the vaults to use as a safe house. If any of the survivors had reported Lauren’s injury, then they might suspect us of staying in the area solely for that reason.

  Moving her now would be . . . difficult and unwise, especially given the fact that she was in a plaster cast. The only saving grace had been that we still had the remnants of the tea the doctor in Olympia had given her. The tea was meant to encourage swifter healing and lessen the pain to a more bearable level, something Lauren needed if she was to sleep comfortably. But, I didn’t want to push her into moving too soon if I could at all avoid it.

  I took a roundabout way back to the safe house and didn’t relax until after I set the take away on the table and made my way to check on Lauren. She was still sleeping. Curled on her right side with one hand tucked beneath her cheek, she looked . . . peaceful. Fragile. Unable to resist, I crossed to her bed and tugged off my gloves, then I bent down to brush the back of my fingers against her cheek. Her black lashes fluttered against her creamy tan complexion before opening to reveal eyes such a dark shade of brown that they reminded me of ebony. Her lips parted slightly and my gaze dropped to them. The burn of my promise suddenly flared bright, and I barely caught myself before I kissed her.

  No. I forced myself to straighten and take a step back from the bed. No, I couldn’t do that to her. Pursuing a relationship with her would only prove deadly. I would not fail in my promise of protection simply because I could not control my emotions around her.

  “Mathias? What is it?” Lauren leaned up, bracing herself on her elbow, as she blinked up at me. “Do we need to move?”

  “Not right now.” I heard the coldness seeping into my voice even as I felt it burning through my veins, but I didn’t try to fight it this time. “I got us some food. It’s still hot.”

  “Oh.” Lauren’s lips pulled down in a slight frown as her brow crinkled. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I’m perfectly fine,” I stated coolly. Then, I turned away from her still questioning gaze. From the urges of a vow I couldn’t bring to completion.

  * * *

  Lauren

  Something was wrong with Mathias. That thought pounded through my brain even as I struggled to get out of bed and maneuver my way into the front room. I was thankful that I had
changed earlier into a loose ankle length skirt and the men’s oversized wool sweater that swallowed my frame completely given the touch of chill in the air. Even with the space heater and layers of blankets, the stone walls of the safe house seemed to draw in the winter’s chill rather than keep it out. I had tugged a wool sock over my good foot to keep from freezing every time I stepped on the floor.

  Balancing on my good foot, I carefully braced a hand against the wall as I hopped into the front room. We’d left the hospital in such a rush that I hadn’t been able to get crutches. Not that I had been able to do much moving around in the days since the surgery. Never had I been so grateful that years of caution had forced me to slip the bag of tea leaves into my go bag the morning I went to work for the last time. Without them, I would have been out of it longer. Although, it seemed Mathias had been using the fact that I was sleeping all the time to close himself off from the world.

  I hesitated. He had been a little distant with me ever since we left Olympia. Maybe . . . Maybe he was worried about familiarity breeding fondness. I hopped into the front room, and Mathias looked up from where he was setting out the takeout boxes. He frowned. “Why didn’t you ask for help?”

  “I didn’t want to bother you,” I managed to get out as I hopped to the table and landed a little heavily in the chair. I brushed my hair back from my face. I had let it grow out a bit to shoulder length to help change my appearance. Eventually I would probably need to make further changes, but for now I took advantage of the fact that my coloring allowed me to pass for any one of several different ethnicities.

  As Mathias handed me a takeout box, I opened it to reveal the fried battered strips of fish and thick cut fries. A small cup of tartar sauce was included in the box. I glanced at Mathias who was intent on preparing his tea. “What kind of fish is this?”