Flight by Numbers

by Kimberly A Rogers

  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?”

  “Cod.”

  I hesitated and offered a smile he most likely didn’t even see as I picked up a ‘chip’. “In the States, we would be calling these French fries. I do wonder how making such an order would go over on this side of the pond.”

  Despite watching him carefully for any reaction, Mathias didn’t even pretend to pay attention to me. Much less react to my slight teasing. He seemed so . . . distant. I ate in silence for a bit, thinking. Something was definitely wrong, but it was difficult to say what or why.

  It was a difficult reminder that I still didn’t know very much about Mathias himself. I did not know his history, his family, or even what kind of paranormal he was, only that he was a 10. I didn’t know if this silence and distancing was his normal approach to life. After all, most of the time we had spent together in Olympia, he was trying to get me to trust him. Perhaps he had acted differently than his true nature in order to achieve that goal.

  I mulled over that thought, then I rejected it. No, I didn’t just rely on numbers to tell me about people. I read their body language too. I learned their tells. Mathias had not been pretending when he acted with gentleness and honor in Olympia. I would have been able to figure it out if he had been acting a part. I was sure of it. No, this was something else.

  Picking up a chip, I sighed softly. We were in Edinburgh, and I couldn’t even tour the history that lived in the city. Life could be quite unfair at times. Missing my chance to explore such a historic city was one of those times. I dropped the potato wedge back into the box and then picked up the last strip of fish. Just as I dipped it into the tartar sauce, there was a solid thump at the door.

  The door shook on its hinges at another blow. The strip of fish fell from my shaking fingers. Mathias’ expression had changed, going blank as his eyes turned icy. It was a petrifying change in him. Unable to get out of my seat easily, I still found myself leaning back and away from the table. I wanted nothing more than to dive to the floor, but my body had frozen in place as I stared at Mathias.

  The door burst open slamming into the stone wall behind it and a scream escaped me as a partially transformed dragon shifter burst into the room, his hands were covered in scales and tipped with curved talons and smoke was wafting from his draconic mouth and nostrils. But, the rest of his body still looked human in shape. Mathias was already lunging for him by the time the shifter entered the room. The dragon shifter swiped at him, talons tearing through his sweater, but then he staggered and looked down at the sword sticking out of his side.

  I stared in shock at the sudden appearance of a sword. Ringing sounded in my ears and if the wall hadn’t already been right behind my chair, I probably would have fallen backwards. I couldn’t move. Instead, I could only watch as the dragon shifter’s scaled throat began to glow red between his dark grey scales. His nostrils flared and his narrow snout started to open. Mathias didn’t slow, didn’t give a chance of mercy or show any hesitation as he withdrew the now bloodied sword and darted forward again. This time he deepened the cut.

  When the shifter started to open his mouth, smoke billowed out. Mathias reversed the sword and slammed the pommel against the same wound. The dragon shifter stumbled backwards, his roar of pain fading to a more human sounding scream as his draconic features faded back to human, and he clutched at his wound. He dropped down to one knee and raised a hand as he gasped, “Stop!”

  Mathias brought the sword to the man’s throat. My breath caught in my own throat. He wasn’t going to stop. I struggled to my good foot, arms trembling as I braced myself against the table. “Don’t!”

  There was a flicker of a pause in the sword’s progression, and I thought he might have glanced over his shoulder at me. It was impossible to say for sure. All I knew for certain was I couldn’t even draw a breath until I saw the blade come to rest against the man’s skin.

  However, Mathias’ voice was so cold and devoid of emotion that it sent a chill through me as he said, “Your life is forfeit to me. You are bound by your true name to leave Weard and go your own way. Tell no one you saw us.” The blade pressed harder against the man’s throat and a trickle of blood appeared. “Swear it on your true name, your honor. Break your oath, dragon, and your life is forfeit.”

  The dragon shifter didn’t move. There was a flicker of emotion in his slate grey eyes as he looked up at Mathias. In that moment, I couldn’t help wondering just how old this particular dragon was because he looked . . . uncertain enough that I wondered at his experience. Or it was simply because he was unaccustomed to being defeated quickly given the fact that the number above his head was a flickering 8. That in itself was nearly enough to send me into a fresh panic. My good knee shook, threatening to buckle, but I forced myself to stay standing.

  After a painfully long silence, the dragon shifter’s lips finally moved. His voice sounded a little strained as he spoke though. “By my true name, I swear it.”

/>   Mathias eased back withdrawing the sword little by little until the dragon shifter was able to move again. As the dragon slumped back against the stone wall, lowering his head and touching his bleeding neck, Mathias stared down at him with a terrifyingly cold expression. It was enough to make me question whether the oath was going to be acceptable to him. There was no hint of warmth in Mathias’ voice when he ordered, “Go.”

  The dragon shifter didn’t hesitate. Scrambling to his feet, he ran out of the safe house as fast as he could. I collapsed back into the chair, my entire body shaking from the sudden absence of adrenaline. When I looked back up, Mathias had closed the door and was wiping down his sword . . . a sword I didn’t realize he had. I stared at him, feeling just a little fearful in that moment.

  What I had seen was definitely worse than what had happened before we got into Edinburgh proper. It was so very different from the way he had subdued Smalls and Reubens when he took those men down in Olympia. He had been fast and certainly deserving of his 10 but this . . . this was cold and . . . and detached. It was so very different.

  Mathias finally met my gaze, but he didn’t say anything as he continued to drag the rag down the sword’s blade. Then he took a breath. “We will need to leave tomorrow,” came the cold, matter of fact announcement.

  I stared at him searching his eyes for some glimmer of warmth or encouragement. Their blue-green color had changed to a pale almost icy blue with his grey sweater. But, they looked so terribly cold. Perhaps he wasn’t expecting an answer, but I couldn’t just sit there and nod. “Won’t he be forced to give a report to Weard? Will you go after him if he does?” I barely forced the second question out, but I so desperately needed to know.