Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  “Tread carefully, Spotter,” the dragoness murmured.

  “The councils won’t go to war, not now and certainly not in Chicago, will they?” I didn’t wait for her to confirm it before I continued, “So, it is up to us to help each other. If the councils won’t do anything, then I will.”

  “You will what? Turn yourself over to Weard, take the Sapphire of Shinar with you? And, for what? To save an abomination who is going to die anyway?”

  I studied Cesarina for a long moment before I shook my head. “No. I’m going to find the Jinn and convince them to help us win this fight.”

  The dragoness laughed, sharp and mocking. Her teeth flashed in a tart smile. “You are as mad as that Soslan. The Jinn will never concede to leave their stronghold even if you can find them. Accept your fate, little Spotter, you have lost. We all have lost.”

  I shook my head. “No, we haven’t. We lost a battle, no more. This war, however, I fully intend to win. Heaven help anyone who tries to stop me now because I will be damned if I am going to just stand by and watch my husband die.” I stepped toward her, heart racing as I searched her face. “Prince Ciril of Thrace gave me his protection. It’s part of the draconic records, right? Which means even other princes are not allowed to do anything to me or risk the wrath of violating another prince’s rights of household. Isn’t that so?”

  She dipped her head in acquiescence. “What of it?”

  “Allow a bargain between us . . .” I hesitated and then continued, “as two women who have every reason to seek vengeance on this Soslan. Our mutual honor and desire for restitution would be satisfied if I succeed, and then we walk away. I will never set foot again in Venice nor will any member of my family so long as you are prince of this city. And you . . . You will not reveal to the councils that I conceived a child of Myrmidon blood. In exchange, I will convince the Jinn to not only leave their stronghold, but to come to Chicago and create a glamour powerful enough to allow a preemptive strike against Weard. Doing so will enable us to defeat Soslan, Nephilim or not.”

  I wasn’t certain she would go for it. She was grieving and a touch treasure mad, after all. Even without those two factors, royal dragons were never among the most reasonable of paranormals no matter what they liked to say. It seemed all shifters had difficulties with logic during times of extreme heightened emotions, even the dragons.

  Praying she would agree, I tried not to fidget. It was bad enough that my heart was crashing against my ribs like a crazed rabbit on a sugar rush. She no doubt heard it clearly. I could only meet her gaze as steadily as humanly possible when she locked eyes with me. “I want a promise from you.”

  “What is it?”

  She smiled thinly, no doubt at the fact I hadn’t agreed without hearing the terms. Dragons appreciated such practicality. “Should your insane plan work and you are able to defeat Soslan, I want you to cripple him for me. I don’t want him dead. I want him to suffer, as my consort will be forced to suffer due to this Nephilim’s actions. Cripple him, and I will convince the saints themselves that you were never pregnant and never associated with a Myrmidon.” Her slit pupils widened slightly as she murmured, “You cannot associate with or give birth to a species that no longer exists, after all.”

  I nodded. “You have my word of honor.”

  “And, you have mine.” She abruptly grabbed my hand, and then placed the Sapphire of Shinar in my palm. Folding my fingers over the stone, she studied me for a long moment before she gave a curt nod. “It would be foolish to keep it here when a man mad enough to claim to be a Nephilim is on the hunt. I won’t endanger my city by keeping either of you here any longer. I will provide a plane for you. Your bag will be on it as well. Come, my men will escort you there.”

  Still in shock that the bargain was accepted, I slipped the sapphire into my jeans’ front pocket. Following the dragon prince out of the holding cell, I zipped up my jacket to better camouflage any hint of a bump. I would also need to find a way to muddle my scent or suppress it so every shifter I met didn’t immediately discover my secret. In addition, I needed to come up with a much better argument for convincing the Jinn to come out of hiding and involve themselves in an unofficial war between paranormals. And, I had to do it all in six days because we couldn’t have such a thing happen on a reasonable timeline.

  Ignoring the hint of desperation in my thoughts and bare bones of a plan, I quickened my pace as two 8s joined us. A man and a woman whose eyes flashed fiery orange as they saluted the dragon prince. Cesarina issued clipped orders in Italian to the pair about taking me back through the tunnels and to her fastest plane. She even ordered them not to bother with drugging or blinding me again. The woman handed me my go bag, much to my surprise. As I slipped it over my shoulder, however, there was only a feeling of determination settling over me. I might not have much of a plan at the moment but by the time the plane landed, I would have one.

  Hang on, Mathias. I’m coming for you, heart-love.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Mathias

  Everything was a haze.

  There was a layer over the world. Not the iciness I had long been accustomed to seeing when my instincts honed my perception of the people around me, of their guilt or innocence. No, this was different. It was more akin to a thick layer of frost over the windows of a house or a fogged pane of glass from a steady storm in the humid heat of summer, where you saw only shadows and outlines of the world outside instead of a clear view of your surroundings.

  Images flashed in front of me. A mixture of real and imagined with a bit of memory stirred in for good measure. I saw the past unfolding in broken bits and pieces. Images of Lauren sitting at her desk at Halliman’s PR firm, a faint smile curving her lips as she ran a finger along the back of one of her jade figurines . . . the fox. Images of Lauren smiling up at me as I pulled her into an impromptu dance to the sound of street musicians playing, the golden tattoo ending in a fox head on her wrist a testament that she was mine and I was hers. Images of war, of broken bodies strewn across the ground, of men, women, and children who had been caught in a senseless battle. Images of my father who looked so much like the man I saw in the mirror every day, his sword black and red with a mix of old and fresh blood as he cut through the soldiers battling on behalf of rogue dragons. Of my uncle pulling me away as more enemies surrounded my father, of his firm commands in Myrmidon that I was not to give into the rage again.

  I saw Lauren the most. I saw the wariness and caution in her eyes slowly give way to warmth. Then to interest and a passion that pulled me to her side so firmly, I was lost well before she ever realized it. She appeared at times, scolding me for being foolish and too confident in my strength as a Myrmidon, as a Ten. She was right.

  Lord knew she was right. I had been foolish, prideful, and as bigheaded as Achilles himself. A worthy legacy to the Myrmidon name, indeed.

  “I never said that, Mathias.”

  I opened my eyes to find her perched on the edge of the bed. Her hand was wrapped around mine. I didn’t remember feeling her approach or her touch but now I clung to her hand, relief coursing through me. “All right, love?”

  She gave me a look as though she were torn between smiling and smacking me. Then she leaned forward, her dark hair falling out of the loose folds of her head shawl. “Mathias, don’t you ever scare me like that again.”

  “I do apologize for the inconvenience. Shall I try a less dramatic attempt for impressing you next time?” I murmured with a slow smile.

  Lauren shook her head, an answering smile curving her pink lips. She leaned in closer as she cupped my cheek. I turned into her touch, welcoming the soothing gentleness. My entire body ached rather wretchedly or I would have attempted to pull her into a proper embrace. Her kiss was light and far too brief for my liking, however, before she leaned back once more. Her fingers caressed my cheek as she shook her head once more. “Mathias, please stop getting into fights with shifters. You are going to scare the rest of my lif
e out of me at this rate. And, likely die before we’ve been married a full year.”

  I chuckled and then groaned as my ribs protested. “It’s not so bad as all that.”

  “Yes, it is, you stubborn Myrmidon.” She sounded a touch tetchy this time, and she blew out a heavy breath. Reaching up with her free hand, she tugged her head shawl off and then allowed the emerald green fabric to flutter to the bedspread as she checked my bandages. Glancing up at me, she smiled with a hint of sardonic humor. “You have to fight, heart-love.”

  I frowned. “You said you didn’t want me to fight.”

  Lauren’s smile vanished as she leaned in closer to me. Her lips brushed across my cheek and then she breathed in my ear. “This time you must fight. You must survive.”

  “Lauren . . .”

  She faded into the fog.

  I struggled to get up as the room around me faded into fog. We weren’t in Rome, not any more. We hadn’t been in Rome for months. This was another trick of the mind.

  “Not a trick,” came a soft whisper behind me.

  I struggled until I could look around despite the reaching banks of fog threatening to swallow me into their depths. I saw nothing. “Who are you?”

  “You know me.”

  Struggling to gain my feet, I snarled a curse. “Who are you?” I managed to get on my knees and shoved up so I was kneeling. My hands clenched into fists as I shouted, “Who are you? Tell me!”

  “You know me, Mathias.”

  I forced down another curse and feigned a smile as I scanned the fog for any hint of shadow. This was a trick. I knew tricks. I also knew I had to break it. Forcing a polite tone, I gave a mirthless laugh. “No, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

  A soft whisper came from my right. “You are lying to yourself, Mathias. For we know each other quite well.”

  The fog moved, distorting and then undulating like a giant snake until it finally disgorged a shadow. The shadow was smaller than I expected. It approached me with stiff steps and then it reached out and touched a single finger to the middle of my forehead.

  I lurched back at the freezing cold touch. Then, the shadow changed to something tangible. I stared into the face of a boy. He couldn’t have been more than ten years old, but his face was gaunt and his lips were tinged blue. He watched me with icy blue green eyes and drying blood splattered his pale skin. “Still deny me?”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why you? Why not her?”

  He smirked. “You don’t deserve her. You never did.” He raised a bloodied dagger and then a second. “Those who shed the blood of innocents do not deserve to be loved.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Yes, you did,” the boy countered. “But, the rage sank its icy fangs into us and we became what they wanted. A monster to be let loose on the battlefields. Only, we forgot to see innocence. Until we lost our own as we drowned the earth in rivers of blood.”

  I stared at the boy for a long time. The fog surrounding us changed, this time showing the site of our last battle as a child soldier, the one where our father died. I watched myself cutting down soldier after soldier, not caring if they were the enemy or if they pleaded for mercy. I watched myself confronted by a tall man, my father. And, I watched myself wound him.

  “Killed our own father.”

  “No,” I retorted. “We weren’t the ones to kill him. He was overwhelmed by numbers. And, being alone.”

  “After being wounded by one of our knives, the poisoned ones.” The boy’s tone turned chiding as he added, “Does our memory grow so bloody awful when we’re old?”

  I scowled at him. “I am not old. Merely grown older.”

  “Right, we’re old now, and we’re going to die like an animal trapped in a cage.” The boy rolled his eyes at me. “And, a girl actually fell for us in that sort of state.”

  “I refuse to argue with a hallucination of myself at ten,” I ground out. “And, I am not going to die like a pathetic caged beast.”

  The boy made a rude gesture.

  Now, I was the one rolling my eyes. “I was never that much of a brat.”

  “I’m you, Wynn. So, I’m afraid to say you were exactly that much of a brat.”

  I grimaced. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Why not?” The boy propped his fists on his hips, bloodied daggers jabbing out in the air. “It’s our name.”

  “Not anymore,” I growled. “Wynn died with his family. Mathias survived, and it is all I am now.”

  “Right. Because Mathias is doing a bang up job of surviving these days,” the boy muttered. He gestured to the fog surrounding us. “Have a peek out the window there and then tell me how swell you’re doing.”

  “There’s no window,” I snapped. “This is all a trick of the mind. They must have given me a hallucinogenic.”

  “Nah, you’re just dying,” the boy countered. He gave me a smile that would turn any soldier’s stomach, skin stretching across bones with the movement camouflaged by the blood covering his face. “Everyone’s mind does something weird when they know they’re dying. Time to face your demon, Wynn Mathias. In case you haven’t guessed, it’s yourself.”

  Scowling, I turned my back on the boy. Brat. And no, I was not that bratty when I really was that age. I had been too busy fighting to survive to indulge in such luxury.

  The boy snorted. “Sure you were.”

  “Don’t speak,” I snapped. “And, don’t eavesdrop.”

  “Technically, they’re my thoughts too. Since, we’re sharing space and all. It’s a bit difficult to not listen when we’re in the same head.”

  I closed my eyes, feeling a headache derived from pure annoyance beginning to measure time directly between my eyebrows. “Oh, shut up.”

  There was no answer this time. Opening my eyes, I blinked to see the fog bank in front of me clearing. Not by a lot, but enough that I could see . . . bars. Hands grabbed my ankles and yanked me to the ground. The impact shook my whole body and sent waves of pain flowing through my ribs. I groaned a protest and looked down to see the bloody nuisance of a boy was grinning at me as he still clutched at my ankles. The fog bank was still clearer than it had been, and I could barely make out sounds.

  The noise of clacking keyboards and voices murmuring low. Not a holding cell, then. I tried to see more. The fog bank was still hazy. However, I could make out the sight of cubicles and screens. Logistics? I was in a cage, the bars wouldn’t permit me to deny that fact, but the cage was above the cubicles. I caught a glimpse of terrified faces sneaking glances up at me before the fog bank thickened once more to leave me alone.

  “What am I then? Ground snail?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’d rather be with Lauren.”

  “Why? You don’t deserve her. You probably caused her to be killed by now. And, you need to own up to your own guilt, Mathias.”

  “Her company is a sight more than I deserve,” I acknowledged, “however, she’s also much better looking than you. Not to mention, she doesn’t want to haunt me.”

  The boy shrugged. “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  “I most certainly didn’t ask for you,” I retorted, scowling once more. “If I’m dying, I should at the very least be able to choose my delusions. And, I do not choose you.”

  “Some part of you must have picked me or else I wouldn’t be here,” the boy replied as he tapped the flat of his bloodied dagger against his chin. “Guess you do want me after all.”

  “Not in the least,” I muttered. I struggled to my feet and began wading through the fog. “Lauren!”

  The boy laughed. “It doesn’t work that way, genius.”

  “It’s my mind, my hallucination, I’ll bloody well change it if I want to and I want to, believe me.” I continued wading through the endless fog, trying to forget the boy.

  “Doesn’t work that way either,” he chortled.

  “Shut up.” Cupping my hands around my mouth, I shouted once more. “Lauren! Lauren, where are you?”
/>
  Please be alive. She had to still be alive. The . . . The Lore keeper, she had said Lauren was still alive.

  “Actually, she said that her team hadn’t captured Lauren yet and that they didn’t have her body here,” the boy piped up with annoying glee. “Doesn’t mean you haven’t already lost her.”

  “I said be quiet!”

  I called out for Lauren once more, ignoring the boy’s mutterings. Then he sighed, flipping a bloodied dagger carelessly. “I never thought we would be this boring as an old man.”

  “I am not an old man,” I grumbled. “I’m young for a Myrmidon and most paranormals for that matter.”

  The boy snorted dismissively. “We’re older than our own father now.”

  “I don’t care! Lauren!” The fog continued billowing around me, swallowing me and my calls so they echoed uselessly into the deadened space. “Lauren!”

  * * *

  Lauren

  I jerked awake, heart still racing from the dream. Well, nightmare probably would have been more accurate. I had been in Mount Etna, struggling to get free of the hunters and to reach Mathias. And, I had failed.

  My stomach churned at the horrible memory of dreaming that I’d witnessed Mathias being run through with his own sword. Recognizing the warning signs, I scrambled to get out of the bed and rushed to the bathroom just in time.

  By the time I finished, tears stung my eyes, and it was a challenge to keep on my feet instead of sinking to the floor in despair. Shuffling back to the bed tucked in the rear compartment of the plane, I paused to look outside. I could see a half moon shining and the stars with clouds rolled out like a puffy carpet or blanket beneath them.

  There were no dragons in the air tonight . . . not even inside the dragon prince’s plane. A hobgoblin was flying the plane and his copilot was a dryad. At least, I didn’t have to worry about them smelling out my secrets. We would land in Jordan around sunup according to their brief pre-flight instructions and then I needed to make my own way to find the Jinn.