Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  A shout came from my left, and I turned just in time to dodge a strike from a dragon-born that was tackled away from me by the shifter woman who had let me enter the plaza. She nodded to me and then shifted into a large wolf, throwing her head back to howl. Then, another wolf shimmered into existence, mirroring her every move. Layla called to me in Arabic, “Remember what we practiced!”

  Of course, the illusions. I should’ve started creating more of them as soon as I allowed the glamours around the hunters to fall. Yet when I raised my hand, my first instinct was to change the number of a 9 charging toward me. It would be . . . easy.

  I watched the woman falter when her number began to change. She was dragon-born and filled with anger as well as a desire for power. The number glowing above her head slowly dropped to a 5 and then a 4. I had barely lowered it to a 3 when an arm wrapped around my neck, hauling me off my feet and breaking my concentration.

  I struggled to free myself, flinging my head back to knock against a solid chest. The man was taller than me and wasn’t bending down enough for my efforts to be useful. I grabbed at the arm tightening around my throat and then managed to pull a knife out. I stabbed it into his thigh, earning an explosive shout in my ear before I was shoved forward.

  Stumbling, I managed to keep from falling and spun to face my attacker. An 8 glared at me with pure hate as he grasped his bleeding leg. I raised my knife in silent warning, not that I could actually speak past my sore throat at the moment.

  He lunged at me only to be tossed off his feet and sent spinning across the plaza by a blast of wind kicking up ice and snow. Layla ran up to me. “All right?”

  I managed to nod despite coughing. “Where is Hasim?”

  “On the other side of the plaza, helping the dragons and High Elves.” She touched my arm cautiously. “Are you certain about this, Cousin?”

  “It’s too late to change my mind,” I murmured. “We need to end this here.”

  She studied my face for a long moment, her expression half obscured by the shadows cast by Weard’s exterior lights. Then, she slowly nodded. “As you wish, Cousin. Be careful. And, use the illusions if you can. They are the better choice.”

  “Yes. Now go.”

  Layla stayed only half a breath longer before she summoned the wind, creating a tiny blizzard that kicked up snow and ice pellets as she vanished into its depths. I watched her whirlwind move toward a knot of hunters whose numbers were still intact before I forced myself to keep moving.

  Where was Mathias?

  The thought distracted me as I searched the teeming numbers. Where was he? I spied a 10 and then realized it was the Tiger shifter again. I caught a glimpse of Soslan’s 10 as he stood at the top of the stairs leading into the building. He was watching as more hunters streamed out of the building behind him and threw themselves into the fray. He didn’t make a sound and yet his stance radiated fury.

  Where was Mathias? I couldn’t see him anywhere. I moved closer to the fighters whose numbers were blurring together. Where was he?

  I caught a glimpse of a 10 in the middle of the writhing masses of numbers just before I was knocked to the ground. I caught myself just before I crashed face first into the snow covered stone. Looking up, I was greeted by the sight of a partially shifted dragon with brown scales. Khalid’s fiery orange eyes locked onto me as his scarred muzzle pulled back into a snarl, revealing his mouthful of curved fangs. “I am going to enjoy this.”

  He leapt at me only to snarl in rage as a leopard landed on his back, claws digging into his scales. The leopard leapt down before he could reach back and return the strike, shifting into her half form with an 8 firmly glowing above her head. She spun to face him, her leopard’s mouth bared in a warning snarl. “One of your new tricks would be an awesome thing right about now, Lauren.”

  Throwing my left hand up, I sent Khalid sliding backwards under the force of the wind. Then, I scrambled to my feet and nodded to the leopard. “Thank you, Atalanta.”

  She flicked her ears and then chuckled. “It’s Raina, actually, and you’re welcome. Shall we teach this dragon a lesson?”

  I raised my hand again, feeling the winds stirring around me. “Gladly.”

  I sent a blast of wind and snow at Khalid’s face as Raina rushed him. She shifted back into a leopard just as he struck for the illusion I had created of her, presenting her with his exposed side. She tackled him, teeth and claws sinking into the meat of his shoulder. I sent another swirl of snow into his face, hoping to keep him blind. Khalid roared.

  He couldn’t seem to break free of her grip. The crown grew warm again, and I focused on his number. He had done so much harm to me and mine. He was . . . evil. He deserved to be punished. The 9 glowing above his head no longer belonged to him. I had already decided that. Throwing my hand out, another rush of wind filled the space between us even as I focused on plucking at his number, chipping away at the fiery strength of a dragon. Sweat trickled down my brow as I worked until finally I dropped him to a 2. I held the heat of his strength until I turned it on the leopard. I liked her. I could trust her to use the strength properly. Her number changed to a 9, and she released the now limp Khalid in favor of shifting back into her mortal form. Strands of coppery red hair fell free from the ornate braid that exposed her pointed ears as she stared at me.

  Raina shook her finger at me. “Oh, that is a clever trick. We should’ve let you go first after all.”

  A slow smile curved my lips in response. And, I nodded. There was more for me to do here. And, perhaps, I could listen to the crown’s urgings a little more. This time hadn’t been so bad. And . . . We needed all the help we could get.

  I turned around to see more hunters fighting. Only this time, some of their numbers were breaking off and fighting against their fellows. I caught sight of a slender dragon-born with waist length dreadlocks. Devin was still alive and fighting. Although, he was beginning to look a bit overwhelmed.

  Calling for Raina’s attention, I rushed toward him. If nothing else, I would do my best to ensure we didn’t lose too many lives here tonight. Throwing out my hand, I summoned more wind. I wasn’t close enough to do anything to their numbers. Otherwise, I would’ve tried again.

  As we ran, I barely caught sight of two 10s rushing toward a third. It was the kind of confrontation I had always dreaded. And yet . . . Tonight, the sight only intrigued me. Mathias was going to fight Soslan, and I wanted to witness it.

  * * *

  Mathias

  I cut down another dragon-born before I halted my next strike, just before I cut into a half shifted tiger. He nodded to me. “What happened to the dragon?”

  “He was distracted by an old enemy,” I commented. I spun to block another attack and then nodded to where Soslan had finally descended the stairs. “He’s who I want.”

  The tiger’s broad muzzle wrinkled and then he gave a curt nod. “I am with you.”

  We charged toward Soslan together, swatting away, or cutting down his hunters when they attempted to get in our way. The ice in my veins fairly sang with the need to exact justice on the man who had committed so many crimes that they left a murky stain on his very being. He radiated evil and power and age.

  He was cutting down shifters when we approached. A dragon lunged at me only to be tackled away by the tiger. The two half shifted warriors turned on each other with the Therian shifter holding his own and even gaining the upper hand. Yet, I couldn’t bring myself to stop and help. Baran didn’t need my help as he knocked the dragon back, keeping him too distracted to breathe fire.

  I turned my focus to Soslan. The Nephilim faced me, and then crooked his fingers in summons. “Come, son of Nimrod. It has been centuries since the last time I fought another of my blood. Far too long indeed.”

  I raised my sword and lunged. Our blades clashed, scraping together and then breaking apart. Jumping over fallen bodies, I avoided the Nephilim’s next strike by a scant millimeter. Then, I shoved his weapon aside and left a long cut through his
sleeve.

  Soslan’s light brown gaze flicked to the blood oozing from his skin and then he nodded to me in a mocking sort of salute. “First blood to you, Mathias. Last blood, on the other hand . . . That will be mine.”

  I blocked his strike, the force of his blow vibrating through my arms. Setting my feet more firmly, I shoved back against him. We locked into place for the briefest span of breath before we broke free once more. This time I was the one bleeding as Soslan’s sword managed to nick the side of my right leg. Not deep enough to be a concern.

  We circled each other watching for an opening. Soslan dropped his sword unexpectedly. I knew better than to take the bait. He smirked. “Worth a try.” Then, he lunged.

  My footing slipped as I stepped onto a patch of black ice, and I hissed as the tip of his sword cut into my left bicep. Scrambling to regain my footing, I ended up dropping down to one knee. He had the advantage and he pressed in close, attempting to drive both swords down and into me.

  As soon as he came close enough, I knocked his sword to the left and lunged. Grasping his ankle, I yanked him off his feet. Then, I brought my sword down on his left wrist just in front of the joint, severing his sword hand. Soslan screamed in pain.

  I raised my sword again, ready to execute him as ice filled my vision.

  “Mathias, wait!” Lauren appeared in front of me, a hand outstretched. “We need him alive.”

  I stared at her for a long moment before I forced myself to lower the sword. As General Baran and Raina joined us along with Royal and Ciril, I strode past Soslan’s pathetic form and made my way directly to Lauren. Pulling her to me, I rested a cheek on the top of her head. All around us, hunters were on their knees in surrender. It was over.

  Pulling back, I stared down into Lauren’s eyes. “Take the crown off, love. You don’t need it anymore.”

  She slowly pulled it off, and I welcomed the familiar sight of dark eyes that didn’t glow. Then, I brushed a far too brief kiss against her lips. Thank God, this was over. I turned to look at Soslan as Ciril and General Baran dragged him to his feet. Well, nearly over. I suspected there was a bit more that required our attention.

  * * *

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lauren

  If there was one thing the high numbers knew how to do, it was how to make their presence felt everywhere. While most of the Serkan family members who answered Layla’s call for aid were already making their way back home, enough remained to maintain a glamour over the plaza and the area immediately surrounding Weard Headquarters while shifters, Therian and dragon alike, and High Elves seized control of the prisoners. Unfortunately, Prince Ciril made it clear that the hunters with changed numbers would be returned to their natural numbers because, as he put it, the dragon princes wouldn’t look kindly on a bunch of dragons being crippled by a Spotter. However, I didn’t reverse the changed numbers. It had been left to Tanaka Aito and one of the other Spotters that survived being Soslan’s prisoner.

  To be honest, I was happy to leave it to them. Mentally I was exhausted, physically I wasn’t very far behind. Yet, I knew I couldn’t afford to miss the upcoming hearing. The hasty court was assembled in the center of an atrium with most of the higher ranked people present, at least those who weren’t supervising the prisoners and conducting a search of the rest of the headquarters. Reinforcements had arrived from the Therians and Fae with more dragons to come before midday, which meant a good number of the original one hundred who had come to our aid were in the atrium.

  Prince Ciril, Lord Auberon, and King Caderyn were positioned at the back of the room. I leaned against Mathias’ side as Prince Ciril broke the silence. “The full impact of the events here in Chicago shall be discussed at length during the Yellowstone Summit when it begins tomorrow. However, there are certain punishments that we, as the current representatives of the Fae and the shifters, have agreed must be dealt with before the sun sets on another day in order to assure our hard won peace is maintained.” He gestured to where Royal stood in front of a side door. “Bring in the prisoner.”

  A healer must have tended to him at some point because Soslan’s arm was wrapped in heavy bandages and secured against his body. He looked far less polished than he had only hours ago as he now wore loose fitting sweatpants and a plain white shirt. When he walked into the room, however, he visibly gathered himself and strode toward the gathered royals. When he was forced to halt, he made a show of snapping his heels together before he stated, “Auberon. It has been some time, hasn’t it?”

  The leader of the High Elves stared down at him with an unreadable expression. “Not nearly long enough. Though you were calling yourself by another name as I recall.”

  Soslan smiled. “Tell me, how is the lovely Titania? I hear she never leaves Isamnion these days. Not pining for lost things is she?”

  A muscle twitched in Auberon’s jaw and the 9 above his head flickered ever so briefly to a 10. It didn’t stay long, settling back into a 9 before he spoke with cool precision. “Soslan, called the Nephilim, you stand before us for your crimes of attempted murder of foreign powers, conspiracy to disrupt the peace treaties between dragons and Fae, conspiracy to aid rogue shifters, and the wanton attempt to force a coup that would not only disrupt the governments of the paranormal community, but also expose it in its entirety to the norms. The sheer blatancy of these crimes are more than enough to warrant your execution.”

  I tensed. I had made a bargain with an emotionally overwrought dragoness that Soslan wouldn’t escape that easily. Shifting to stand a little taller, I ignored Mathias’ cautioning touch to my arm as I watched the three royals. Auberon had paused while the crowd murmured, then continued when they quieted down, “However, it has been agreed that such a sentence will only serve to make you a martyr to those foolish enough to believe your rhetoric.”

  A thread of relief wrapped around me until I heard his next words. “Therefore, we pass down this judgment on you. Soslan, called the Nephilim, you will be punished as your self-lauded ancestor Nimrod was punished in the ancient past. Your talents will be bound and your strength siphoned off until you are no longer a threat to anyone, be they of paranormal or norm birth. The Spotter, Lauren Hope, will use the Crown of Nimrod to carry out this punishment. Have you anything to say for yourself before she does so?”

  Soslan turned his back on the three royals in favor of looking out over the gathered audience. His light brown gaze focused on where Mathias and I were standing for a moment, filling with contempt before he addressed the rest of the watching crowd. “Do not let these weak minded men playing at being leaders fool you. I am not the only Nephilim who still walks this earth. We have grown tired of waiting. No longer will the Nephilim sit in the shadows or rest quietly beneath the yokes of unworthy pretenders. The time of the weak is over!”

  “Silence him,” Auberon’s low command cut through the murmurs caused by Soslan’s words.

  Royal and the other guards wrestled Soslan down to his knees and then forced a gag over his mouth. Soslan kept his head high, however. Almost as though he were playing a part on a stage . . . of an unconquered prisoner. A notion that caused icy fingers of dread to run down my spine.

  “Lauren Hope.”

  I looked up to see Auberon was now looking at me. He waved for me to approach the cleared space in front of the royals, where Soslan was still kneeling. “Carry out the chosen punishment on Soslan.”

  The appropriate words stuck in my suddenly dry throat so I could only bow my head respectfully before I forced myself to walk forward. General Baran was the one holding the box this time, and he opened it to reveal the Crown of Nimrod. Golden numbers danced across the bronze surface of the circlet and heat slowly warmed my hands when I grasped it. Settling it on my head, I stood a little taller as I turned my attention onto Soslan. He had harmed me and mine, but that was never going to happen again.

  Loathing filled his eyes more clearly than words could ever hope to convey. I was grateful I would not hear his verbal
opinion of me. I’m sure it wouldn’t have been anything remotely pleasant. I studied the 10 above his head and then raised my left hand. I could feel his strength attempt to resist my desire to take it away. He was stubborn, and his power was so very old. There was an odd sense of familiarity to it, however, and I could feel the crown growing warmer by the second as I directed it to claim that power.

  I watched his number shrink until it was only a 2. Then, I dropped my hand to my side with a little more effort than I liked. Turning to the three 9s, I lowered my head ever so slightly. “It is done. Soslan is now a 2. He is in essence no different than the more harmless norms. It is permanent, and it will not kill him.”

  Auberon inclined his head in response. “Thank you, Lauren Hope.” His voice carried across the utterly silent room with ease as he continued, “The future of Weard Enterprises and whether it will be restored or disbanded entirely will be discussed by the Fae and the dragons at the Yellowstone Summit. Soslan will be handed over into the custody of the dragons to be further dealt with in regards to the rest of his crimes and to determine his level of involvement in rogue shifter activities. The rest of the prisoners will be remanded to the appropriate authorities by species and dealt with accordingly. All of you have your assignments. This court is dismissed.”

  I pulled the crown off before I grew too accustomed to its weight and the whispers of how I could tweak different individual’s numbers and strength. It still hummed with Soslan’s power, something that was almost disconcerting to feel. However, it took far too much effort for me to finally place the crown back in its box.

  I stepped back as General Baran closed the lid and then jumped as a voice spoke up behind me. “That artifact is far too dangerous to be used again.”