Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  Biting back a groan, I couldn’t even permit myself to finish the thought. The pull toward Lauren grew stronger by the day despite my best efforts. Waking so many times to find her snuggled up against me, warming me as she clung to my coat, had certainly weakened my resistance to her. I would need to do something drastic soon to avoid coming too near disaster. Especially since every day spent resisting the pull also served to strengthen the cold’s hold over me. It was painful to feel pulled in one direction while struggling against the cold that hovered too close to the surface now and threatened to pull me under every time I fought. It would have been easy to give in to the cold and end the struggle. If not for the consequences, I would have been tempted to do just that.

  Lauren. The cold. Both pulled me with equal strength and my attempts to resist the choice would eventually come to haunt me. Standing in front of the fire, I caught myself wondering if giving in to the cold would truly be so dire a decision. I shook my head. I knew it would be just that, if not worse. I needed to take one of the pills before I made a potentially deadly mistake.

  I patted my pockets out of habit before I remembered with fresh clarity the fact that I had emptied the pill bottle days earlier. It was part of the reason I had brought Lauren here instead of to a different area of Scotland. I needed my cache.

  I turned my back on the fire barely aware of the heat seeping through my sweater. Unlike the softer warmth derived from Lauren’s slender body, the fire held no distraction and couldn’t seep past the cold now filling my veins. I forced my mind away from thoughts of Lauren. I needed to concentrate. Where had I hidden the cache? It had been long enough that I could not immediately recall. I needed to find it. Now.

  * * *

  Lauren

  The whiff of Mathias’ aftershave teased my nose. I opened my eyes, wondering why he hadn’t woken me up the moment the train stopped moving, only to gaze up at a dark roof. My fingers wrapped around something warm and soft. My gaze shifted to my surroundings. I was in a small room with stone walls and in a bed covered in blankets. Mathias’ aftershave still tickled my nose and I quickly looked around, but he wasn’t in the room with me. It was only then I noticed that more than blankets covered me. Mathias’ wool coat, which would explain why it smelled like him.

  My head felt heavy and I almost went back to sleep but then something broke outside the room and I jolted upright, heart pounding against my ribs. Where was Mathias?

  I pushed the blankets back with trembling hands and found my boot on the floor. I tugged it on and then leveraged myself up. Bracing one hand against the wall, I grabbed Mathias’ coat and clutched it to me. Then, I hopped over to where my crutches were leaning in the corner.

  Another crash followed by a thump. My heart was racing, a low ringing filled my ears, and panic made it difficult to breath but I still hobbled toward the door. I opened it a crack and peeked out into the main room. Mathias’ long lean frame was nearly folded in two as he crouched at the base of the far wall. He was muttering under his breath as he shoved a hand and half his arm into what looked like a cubbyhole.

  I opened the door further and made my way into the main room. I shivered. The fire had died and the room was freezing. If not for a lantern balanced on the table, there would have been no light to see by at all. As I got closer to Mathias, I could see sweat beading his brow and scruff covering his jaw. “Mathias? Are you all right?”

  He didn’t respond. If anything, his movements only grew more frantic and jerky. He looked like he was in withdrawal.

  I frowned debating whether I should actually attempt to approach him. “Mathias?” I hobbled a little closer, but kept a good foot between us as I asked once more, “Are you all right, Mathias? Do you, umm, do you need help?”

  Mathias suddenly sprang to his feet with a guttural yell. I screamed and stumbled back, barely keeping myself from falling. He still didn’t even spare a single glance for me. Instead, he raced outside, the cold air biting me before I hobbled over and shoved the door closed.

  For a moment, I stood there panting with a hand braced against the door. This was a new wave of erratic behavior even for Mathias. I drew a shuddering breath and then hobbled over to the fireplace. There were still a few embers glowing in the ash. I focused on building the fire again even as my mind raced. I hadn’t checked the species list for the number scale. I never had a chance to go back and sneak another peek at Mathias’ book after we left Altnabreac. But now . . . I could certainly guess his species. One of the paranormals that tended to be notoriously unpredictable, especially when they got agitated.

  Once the fire was burning cheerfully, I gathered my resolve and Mathias’ coat then hobbled out of the cottage. There was no sign of him outside. I blinked against the blinding sleet. “Mathias!”

  No answer.

  I hobbled forward. “Mathias! Where are you?”

  Lord have mercy if that man ran off into the moors. How was I supposed to track him down?

  I had no idea, but the thought of leaving him out in the cold while he was suffering from . . . something was unbearable. I couldn’t leave him to suffer or worse die. Just imagining it dropped an iron weight in the pit of my stomach.

  A check of the stable confirmed all three horses were still there, which was a small comfort. But I still couldn’t find him. I hobbled past the tumbled stones and abandoned houses, calling “Mathias!”

  Still no answer.

  I was starting to panic when I heard something crash in one of the smaller houses. Gripping Mathias’ coat more tightly, I cautiously moved toward the open door. Mathias was in the middle of the house. Relief changed to concern as I realized he had been prying stones out of the fireplace. “Mathias.”

  He didn’t respond, his breath coming in pants, but his frantic attempts to pry the stones out stilled. I made my way closer and reached out to touch his bruised and bloodied hands. The contact finally pulled Mathias’ attention to me and his blue-green eyes fixed on me. I kept my fingers on the back of his hand. “Mathias, it’s time to come back to the cottage. Where it’s warm. Aren’t you cold out here?”

  “Ice does not feel cold.”

  The way he was sweating I wasn’t as surprised by his answer as I might have been under other circumstances. I slid my hand down his arm from his wrist to his elbow. His gaze fell to follow my movement, giving me a little hope that I could still reach him. Moving slowly, I took his coat and wrapped it around his shoulders before steadying myself with a hand on his arm. “Mathias, I feel the cold. I’m worried about you. Won’t you come inside the cottage with me? So I don’t have to worry about you?”

  For a long moment, I thought he would refuse. Then, he finally dipped his head in silent assent. I didn’t quite believe my appeal had worked until we were back inside the central cottage with the fire dancing merrily in the hearth.

  I kept a wary eye on him as I dug out the medical kit. His hands were in terrible shape. I sat down on the bench, resting my crutches on the floor, before I looked up at Mathias. “Would you sit with me?”

  He was moving oddly, almost as though he were fighting himself to do so. But, he did sit beside me. I picked up his hands and carefully cleaned them with a disinfectant before dabbing ointment on the cuts and abrasions. He was still sweating but his hands were steady.

  “Maybe you should find a doctor. They can help with this type of illness.”

  “What type?”

  The words were cool and there was a hint of tightness around his eyes. I kept my tone gentle and calm as I replied, “Withdrawal. Maybe you had too much tea trying to stay awake all the time?”

  I hoped the little bit of teasing would keep him from feeling threatened. But, his eyes turned almost as icy as they had been in his fights. “I am not in withdrawal, Hope.”

  “You were tearing apart a fireplace, Mathias,” I countered, still keeping my voice steady. I searched his eyes as I added, “That is not a good sign. What were you looking for?”

  “Pills.”


  I sucked in a breath, but said nothing. So it was a withdrawal. He hadn’t seemed the type and it . . . disappointed me. My heart ached for his suffering. Especially if my suspicions were true and my presence had contributed to his need for whatever pill he had been taking.

  “Not drugs.”

  I looked up from his hands. The iciness in his gaze had faded slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “The pills are an herbal mix. Help me. They help me with my control.”

  My grip on his hands tightened slightly as I debated what to say. If he was what I suspected, then there were some doctors who specialized in helping control their volatile reactions. “Mathias. Have you considered going to a doctor for help? I’ve read about the studies, the ones designed to help paranormals like you keep better control over your . . . instincts.”

  Mathias stared at me. The iciness in his eyes faded a little more. “What kind of paranormal do you think I am?”

  I hated saying it, but all the signs pointed to it. I took a deep breath and then whispered, “Berserker.”

  When he didn’t reply, I darted a cautious glance at him. He was staring at me in what could only be described as shock and, well, amusement. The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Berserker.”

  I nodded. Then because I couldn’t help myself, I leaned toward him. “Is there anything I can do to help? Maybe a, umm, a tea of some sort? You always have tea with you. Does it help with your control?”

  Mathias reached up running his hand over his scruffy jaw. Then he rose from the bench shrugging out of his coat as he did so. Oh I really hoped he wasn’t going to run outside again.

  He dug around in the extra pack and pulled out a tea kettle naturally. Then, he extracted a tea tin from his own bag. That seemed very Mathias. If he didn’t go running out into the dark again, perhaps the worst was over.

  After heating the kettle, however, he took it into the bedroom before returning to heat it once again. Then, he poured the hot water into a basin he had sitting on the table. He carried the basin to a stand in the other corner of the room and tugged his sweater over his head. I stared a little too long at his lean but muscular torso. There was no doubt that Mathias was in excellent physical condition. Cheeks heating, I picked my crutches up and muttered an excuse I didn’t even understand before grabbing my own bag and hobbling back to the bedroom. I closed the door and leaned back against it. Now was not the time to be distracted by Mathias’ looks any more than his accent, which still seemed delicious to me despite days of hearing both English and Scottish accents in abundance.

  I managed to collect my thoughts, if barely, and hobbled further into the room. I stopped short when I spied the basin of water resting on a small stand. Steam still rose in lazy tendrils from its surface. Maybe Mathias wasn’t as far gone as I feared.

  The thought brought tears to my eyes, and I blinked them away. It was ridiculous to get teary over such a small thing. But, I didn’t waste any time either. I found my amenities bag and quickly washed up and changed into fresh clothes. The one thing I was grateful for with the switch to a wrap and brace was that I was able to wear jeans with far more ease. As long as they weren’t skinny jeans. I tugged on a deep blue sweater and still felt cold. So, I added a slate grey men’s sweater on top that swallowed my frame and hung to my knees.

  I hesitated in the room for several long minutes as I tried to decide if Mathias would be fully dressed again. After several more minutes, I finally dared to open my door a crack. Mathias was nowhere to be seen and, feeling a little foolish that the sight of him shirtless had flustered me so badly, I grit my teeth and opened the door wide before hobbling out.

  Mathias was crouched in front of the fireplace feeding the flames. He was also fully dressed, his light brown hair darker now as it was still wet. The cable sweater he had changed into was a creamy white and it molded to his long lean frame. One of my crutches caught on the edge of the table, and I barely caught myself before I fell.

  What was wrong with me? I hadn’t reacted to him like this since I finally grew accustomed to the 10 over his head. Looking back, perhaps that was the reason we were in this situation. I let his nonthreatening and practically gentle approach get under my guard and now . . . Well, now the veneer was cracking.

  After situating my crutches, I looked up to find Mathias watching me. His blue-green eyes had changed to the palest shade of blue and he was clean shaven once more. Except for the shadows beneath his eyes, one would have a difficult time determining anything was wrong with him. I didn’t quite know how to proceed so I only slipped into the chair on the far side of the table from where he was standing.

  Mathias set a mug in front of me before setting out bowls and a chunk of bread. It was only then that I realized he had heated some sort of stew. It was good, warm and filling, but it didn’t succeed in distracting me from my worries. I pushed my empty bowl away and watched Mathias silently. I toyed with my mug, dragging my fingertips over and around the handle. “Does this happen a lot?”

  There was a long silence but when I looked up, fearful I had insulted him, Mathias actually looked amused. Irritation flared hot, and I set my mug down harder than I should have. “I can’t believe you think this is funny,” I hissed in a low voice. “Do you have any idea how much you scared me? Running into the dark like that and then acting like you’re in withdrawal? And, all because you wouldn’t tell me that you’re a berserker.”

  The amusement vanished and his eyes seemed colder again as he set his own mug down. “Lauren, believe me when I say that I am most certainly not a berserker out of the Scandinavian and Norse tales.” His accent grew stronger as he added in a tone I could only describe as haughty, “I have never been held captive by the unhinged blind fury they suffer. There is no cunning there, only pure rage rampaging without check. Such displays are considered . . . an embarrassment by my people.” He paused suddenly and the haughtiness faded to be replaced by something much chillier. “Not that there are many of my people left. Still, it is the principle of the matter.”

  As he pushed back from the table, I could only stare at him. “What are you then?”

  Mathias hesitated with his back to me and he turned his head just enough for me to see his profile as he replied softly, “You don’t want to know that answer.”

  He cleaned out the bowls and set them aside to dry. As he came back to the table and refilled our mugs, I finally broke my silence. “I deserve to know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I fixed him with a stern look as he drew back once more. I kept my voice calm and gentle, but it still trembled a little with emotion as I repeated myself. “I deserve to know. Your heritage is affecting you, and it is not fair to me that I am left in the dark. You know what I am. All I know about you is that you are a 10, you’re extremely British, and you are overly fond of tea.”

  “Being overly fond of tea is not possible,” Mathias countered, almost sounding like himself in that moment. Then his tone hardened as he stated, “You do not want to know what I am, Hope. It’s too dangerous.”

  “At this point in time, I feel it is more dangerous for me not to know. Something is wrong with you, and I can’t even help because I don’t understand what it is or why it is happening to you. If it is not caused by your heritage, then tell me now and I will let the matter alone.”

  “I am not having this conversation.”

  I jumped from my seat and hobbled around the corner of the table so I could reach across and grasp his hand. “Mathias, please!”

  He stared at my hand, then at me. Then, he grasped my hand and broke my grip with utter gentleness. He stepped away from the table putting himself safely out of range of my touch. It was only then that he broke the heavy silence. “You don’t need to know, Lauren.”

  “I am stuck in a glen somewhere in the Scottish Highlands because you weren’t behaving in a completely rational manner. After everything we have been through together since Olympia, I would think that I have earned that informatio
n. I cannot help you if I do not understand what is happening.” I took a breath as the furious rush of whispered words trickled to a halt and then another. “At this point, Mathias, you could tell me you knew how to reopen the portals to Faerie and are descended from the lost Fae and all I would say to you is ‘How do I help you’ because that is all I want right now. To help you.”

  Mathias was silent for a long moment. Then, he gave a humorless chuckle. “Lauren, you have no idea what you are asking. I am certainly not connected to the lost Fae.” His mouth firmed into a line before his gaze turned icy once more and his voice was cold enough to send a shiver down my spine as he stated, “My people were once known as the Myrmidons.”

  I could only stare at him struggling to process what my ears were insisting I had heard. Myrmidons. But that was . . . That was impossible. They had been wiped out. All of them. I jerked my chin up, intent on asking Mathias for more information and if he was joking, only to see an empty space in front of me. A blast of cold air pulled my attention to the door. Mathias was shrugging on his coat as he went out not even looking back once. Then the door slammed shut. I hobbled back over to the nearest bench and sank down onto it, mind still reeling.

  Myrmidon. But . . . No, he couldn’t be serious. They were all gone. And, for a very good reason. Mathias couldn’t be one of them. Could he?

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Lauren

  Mathias . . . A Myrmidon. It was . . . Well, it was impossible. Wasn’t it?

  I shook my head as I scrubbed the mugs trying and failing to distract myself with the simple task. What Mathias had said, what he had actually claimed, it was quite simply impossible. There was no way on earth that he was actually a Myrmidon.