Quests by Numbers (Rogue Spotter Book 5)

by Kimberly A Rogers

  “I suppose you would prefer to go to Knossos first then,” I asked drily.

  Mathias massaged my stomach. “Well, it is a resort town. A retreat for the powerful paranormal families might make a nice little holiday around the treasure hunting, especially with being well into their slow season.”

  “You realize we are not on holiday, yes?”

  He grinned, still touching my stomach and rubbing in small circles. “Depends on your frame of mind really.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I do not know what those healers in Rome gave you, but you are most certainly being batty.”

  “How far along?”

  I blinked at him. “What?”

  Mathias glanced at me, his hand stilling on my stomach. “How far along are you? The midwife told you, yes?”

  “Yes. That is, she said I’m about nine weeks.”

  A slow grin grew into being once more, and then a chuckle escaped. Then, another. And, another until I rather wanted to smack him. I stood up and crossed my arms over my stomach as I glared at my husband who was practically rolling with laughter now. “What is so funny?”

  He was still chuckling when he sat up. “You need to apologize to me.”

  I stared at him. “Apologize for what?”

  Mathias grinned as he replied with a ridiculously annoying amount of smugness. “For making me apologize. You know when Royal revealed that I had told the dragons you were in a delicate condition in Alexandria. You were mad at me and made me apologize for saying it.”

  “And, your point in bringing this up?” I asked despite knowing what he was likely to say.

  The grin somehow grew smugger like a cat that had gotten into an entire jug of cream. He might have even wriggled a little as he waved a hand toward my stomach. “You’ve been carrying our little stowaway since before the airship. We’ve only been in Carthage five weeks after all. Therefore, I deserve an apology for my apology under duress.”

  I shook my head. “Mathias, you are just too much.”

  He smirked. “So you’ll apologize, yes?”

  I stepped toward him and leaned down slightly so I could look directly into his eyes as I breathed softly, “No.” Then, I grabbed one of the bolsters and smacked him in the face with it.

  Mathias let out a shout of laughter, and I smacked him again before dropping the bolster in favor of darting toward the stairs leading up to the bedroom. Arms came around my waist and pulled me flush against his chest, which shook with muffled laughter. He leaned over and kissed my ear, then my cheek before he grabbed my hand and spun me around to face him.

  Placing a hand against my stomach, I grimaced. “No more spinning.”

  “Sorry.” Then, he pulled me close again and started dancing me around the room. “You’re happy too, Lauren?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “I’m just . . . I worry. It would have been better if it wasn’t happening now when we’re . . . we don’t even have a steady home right now.”

  “We will,” he stated, promises lacing through his voice. “Before the baby gets here, we’ll be settled.”

  “On a little island in the Pacific, right?” I asked drily.

  A crooked grin appeared even as his gaze softened. “Anywhere with you and the baby will be paradise, Lauren. You, the two of you, are all that matters to me. Securing the remaining pieces of the crown, that’s just a stepping stone to protecting the two of you. Weard’s hunters have been pulled back. They’re busy harassing the dragons. We nip into these wonders, find the crown pieces, and then nip back out.”

  “You make it sound so easy,” I murmured.

  The smug look returned as Mathias grinned down at me. “This will be nothing compared to the Trials of Achilles. After all, I am a Myrmidon. I happen to be functioning quite well these days.”

  Laughing in spite of myself, I could only lean my head against his chest. We swayed in a circle, Mathias holding me close. If only I could believe it would be that simple.

  * * *

  Lauren

  “If you’re nervous about people guessing, you might want to stop constantly touching your stomach,” came the amused murmur in my ear.

  My hand paused midway down my stomach. I hadn’t been thinking when I’d started smoothing my shirt. Now though, I felt even more self-conscious as I scanned our surroundings. There weren’t a lot of people moving among the stone paved streets of Knossos, probably due to late November’s cooler temperatures, but I only saw a few 7s among the 6s. Still higher than I was completely comfortable being around. I was thankful there didn’t seem to be any truly high numbers around, save for the incorrigible Ten next to me. And him, well, I wasn’t feeling particularly grateful for at the moment.

  Zipping my leather jacket halfway up, I tried to ignore the sensation that I was getting ready to pop out of my jeans and shirt. At twelve weeks, I still didn’t have a true bump or so Mathias kept insisting. My jeans felt a bit tight though and I had left my shirt untucked, hoping to camouflage anything the Myrmidon was lying through his teeth about not being there. This whole plan of ours was utter lunacy.

  “You’re worrying,” Mathias whispered. “Remember positive thoughts.”

  “At the moment, dear, the only thing I’m positive about is that this is a terrible idea. And, I really want to slap you. And, I’m starving.” I frowned at the buildings rising on either side of us, their frescos of bulls and griffins bright blue or red against the paler sandstone covered walls. Knossos, behind its glamoured appearance of ruins, still clung to its Minoan roots and catered only to the paranormal community leaving Heraklion, the current capital of Crete, barely five kilometers north. As a result, it was difficult for me to figure out which building might hold a restaurant or café. The only street vendors we had passed were cooking skewers of meat, the smell of which I still couldn’t tolerate. Just the thought of the smell of cooking meat was enough to make my stomach roil with a threat of nausea.

  Trying to get my mind off my mounting nausea, I took a deep breath before grasping Mathias’ hand. I could only hope that our decision to abandon disguises hadn’t been a mistake. Leaving all my head shawls save for two in our go bag still seemed . . . reckless. Although, Mathias had argued that I could get away without drawing too much attention to myself without a shawl covering my hair in Crete, I still felt . . . vulnerable after spending so much of the past year wearing one. I brushed my loose hair out of my face as I studied the buildings again. I wasn’t a Seeker who would be drawn to any object or person I sought, which made figuring out where the missing piece of the Crown of Nimrod could be hidden difficult. Especially, in a place as layered with various glamours as Knossos.

  Mathias squeezed my hand twice in close succession, and I realized I was digging my nails into him. Wincing, I murmured an apology as I forced my fingers to relax. He brushed my words aside as he nodded toward a multistory building lined with inverted red columns. “There we are, Minos’ palace.”

  I suppressed a sigh. Minos had been infamous enough to leak into the norm’s myths and legends, first for the labyrinth and its minotaur then for the curse of turning all he touched into gold. But among paranormals, his true reputation as a rather ruthless demigod-dragon hybrid was far more terrifying. He was said to be the first true collector of other rare paranormals, dropping them into his labyrinth and forcing them to fight for the smallest scraps of food. He was finally stopped by Theseus, but it had been a costly mission with Theseus’ father being assassinated on Minos’ orders when he learned the people of Athens intended to rebel against his cruel tricks. Norms told it differently, of course, but their memories weren’t as long or as reliable as paranormals.

  Still . . . “Are you certain you want to venture there first?”

  “It will be fine. It’s normal visiting hours so we can nip in and have a look around without anyone growing suspicious. If the artifact isn’t in the palace proper, we might at least find a clue to where it was likely moved.”

  “What if it’s in the labyrinth?”r />
  Mathias smiled faintly as he glanced down at me. “Then, we’d better pick up a spool of thread when we stop for lunch.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “You are not nearly as funny as you think you are, you insufferable man.”

  He chuckled. “We’ll be fine. It’s not as though the labyrinth will be occupied anymore. It’s kept cleared of anyone or anything unsavory by dragon prince sanctioned patrols.”

  “And, just how do you know that’s true?” I asked in an undertone as we passed through another glamour. There were a lot of glamours here, enough that I wasn’t certain I was actually seeing everyone in the area. I frowned at a flicker to our right. Had it been a number?

  I studied the side street, but nothing else appeared. Maybe it was just the light . . . Oh, I hoped it was just the light.

  Mathias didn’t seem to notice anything. Maybe I was just jumpy . . . not that I didn’t have good reason. I caught myself just before I touched my stomach again. Come on, Lauren, keep your head. Dropping my hand to my side, I tugged on Mathias’ hand and then nodded to the entrance of another heavily glamoured side street. “Any idea what that’s about?”

  It was a repelling glamour and strong enough that it took most of my concentration to keep walking instead of turning down a different street to get away from it. The muscle in Mathias’ jaw twitched as he gave the street a sharp look. He didn’t increase his pace, but an edge entered his walk and his bearing enough to make me painfully aware of the 10 blazing bright above his head. Mathias had slipped from his relaxed almost casual manner back to being a man whose very existence screamed that he was dangerous.

  “Mathias,” I said softly as I tightened my grip on his hand.

  “The thing about Knossos is the powerful who come here in the spring and summer with their families sometimes return in winter with very different company.” The edge still hadn’t faded as he tilted his head at the buildings we were passing, which also had been heavily glamoured. “And, they don’t want their business falling into unfriendly hands. So, they use glamours to hide from the world and their neighbors. No one wants to be caught with their trousers down after all.”

  “There are probably easier solutions to avoiding such embarrassment,” I muttered.

  The palace of Knossos, of Minos, loomed in front of us and I felt the tickle of the glamour once more as we walked into the first courtyard. At least, it didn’t squeeze and threaten to crush the air from our lungs like the one at the Colosseum. So far that was the best sign that maybe we’d be able to find the piece of the crown and then slip out of this far too secretive city before we drew too much attention. We walked through an open air corridor and then passed through three more courtyards before we entered an anteroom and walked through two sets of open double doors into a smaller room.

  Red walls were covered with reposing griffins, two of which framed either side of an alabaster seat. There was a wavy stone remnant against the wall above the seat where one might have seen a proper throne. Gaps separated the seat from the stone benches hugging the wall on either side and then joining benches to line the walls of the rest of the room. A large stone basin sat in the middle of the floor directly in line with the throne as though it was awaiting an offering . . . or a blood tribute.

  I let go of Mathias’ hand as I moved deeper into the room. The paint on the walls seemed to shimmer, especially the griffins. I frowned as I approached the nearest relief. There was something here. I just couldn’t seem to quite make it out.

  “Lauren, wait.”

  I startled at the call, but it was already too late. My fingers brushed over the wall, the faint shimmer turned into a painful shock that made me yelp. Backing away from the wall as I shook my tingling fingers, I whirled to find Mathias doing a terrible job of hiding his amusement. “Let me guess, you forgot they have a protection layer on the walls.”

  He gave a muffled cough that sounded far more like a laugh. Tugging on the sleeves of his jacket, he managed to give off an air of insufferable polish as he simply replied, “I actually didn’t know anything of the sort. However, I was not expecting you to go touching things you shouldn’t. It’s not like you, Lauren.”

  I rolled my eyes as I looked around the throne room once more. “I just want this over with so that we can move on . . . with everything.” I waved my hand at the walls, the tingling finally subsiding enough not to make my fingers feel oddly numb, and added, “Unless we find a trapdoor or some sort of clue, there’s nothing here that is of any help to us.”

  Mathias nodded as he roamed the perimeter of the room, taking care not to touch anything. “No drafts or seams.” He drew even with me and took the hand that had received the shock between his two. His fingers caressed over my palm to my fingertips before he murmured, “Looks like it was just a warning defense.”

  “It was very effective because I will not be touching anything else in this palace,” I replied tersely. Tugging my hand from his grasp, I shoved both hands into my jacket pockets. The satchel tilted forward with the movement and I quickly readjusted it. “Maybe a treasure chamber would give us a better lead?”

  He smiled faintly. “Maybe. There was a commotion in Weard about ten years back regarding some misguided hobgoblin getting trapped in an underground treasure chamber. Came out raving about the laughter of Minos.”

  “Trapped in an underground treasure chamber,” I repeated slowly. Blowing out a sigh, I mumbled under my breath, “That’s just wonderful.”

  Mathias chuckled again as he wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Ah, no fear, love. I’m sure it was an exaggeration. He probably ended up on the wrong side of a siren.”

  “Mathias.”

  “Yes, love.”

  “You realize that doesn’t actually comfort me, right?”

  He grinned down at me, then pulled me against his side. “Whether it’s sirens or an underground treasure chamber, I’ll keep you safe.” He dropped a kiss against my hair and then nodded toward the doors. “Let’s move on, shall we?”

  “Gladly.”

  We turned toward the doors only for the farthest set to abruptly slam closed with enough force to send dust falling. The echo had barely died when the second set of double doors slammed shut. Mathias pushed me behind him. Then, I heard a pop and a hiss. My heart started beating against my ribs like a frantic bird caught in a trap. Looking around, I saw pale blue smoke billowing up out of the offering bowl. A heavy sweet scent filled the air.

  I scrambled to pull my head shawls out of the satchel, coughing as the perfumed smoke continued flooding the room. I pressed one of them to my face, covering my nose and mouth, but it was too late. The room swam and the griffins on the walls seemed to move. Their heads turned to pierce me with mocking stares. Then they seemed to leap off the walls, swarming toward me. I stumbled, trying to back away, only to collapse to my hands and knees.

  Mathias dropped to one knee. He reached a hand out to me. He didn’t see the griffins. I opened my mouth to warn him only to choke on the smoke. Between coughs, the room grew hazier. The griffins were still coming. I tried to stand or to speak. My body no longer obeyed my mind. Two griffins charged directly at me. I fell back into darkness.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Mathias

  The unyielding feel of stone dug into my back. For a moment, I imagined I would be approached by either Royal or whichever local guide I’d been assigned with morning tea. Only there was no wind against my skin, no sound of birds or small animals skittering about in the undergrowth, no sound of people.

  I opened my eyes to darkness and then blinked an unbreaking grey ceiling into focus. My head felt rather heavy and stuffed, like the time I had nearly been smothered by an angry yeti in the Himalayas. It wasn’t cold enough to be a similar thing this time. I blinked once more, attempting to force my thoughts into action. I remembered the blue smoke that smelled sweet and . . . Lauren.

  “Lauren,” I croaked before coughing. Rolling my head to the right, I didn�
��t see her. There was only grey walls streaked with darker stains. “Lauren,” I called again as I rolled to my left.

  My groping fingers brushed against something soft . . . leather . . . first. Rolling completely onto my left side, my lungs tightened at the sight of her. Still and pale, her dark hair falling across her face. The only sign of life was the barest flutter of her hair as she breathed. Her jacket was unzipped as though . . . she had been searched.

  I swore as I patted at my sleeves. My knives were gone. As were our bags, which meant . . . the crown piece was gone. I swore again before I forced my leaden limbs to move, pulling myself more than crawling closer to Lauren. Reaching her side, I rested my hand briefly on her stomach just above her hips before running it up one side and then the other. I didn’t find any blood or obvious signs of injury, not even bruising when I tugged her shirt up. What worried me, however, was the fact that Lauren never stirred once at my touch.

  After checking her neck, I was fairly certain I could safely move her. The heavy sluggishness dragging at my limbs made the task more difficult. Yet, I managed. Pulling Lauren’s back against my chest, I maneuvered us so we were sitting up. My back once more pressed against the cold stone of our . . . prison. My jacket kept the moisture off despite the cold seeping through, however, which wasn’t as terrible as the last time I had been a proper prisoner. The stint in Prince Heru’s holding cells did not qualify. I stretched my legs out and shifted Lauren until her legs were on top of mine.

  Brushing her hair out of her face, I could only thank God that she was breathing steadily, even if it was too shallow for my liking. Dropping my head back against the wall, I fought to clear the fog from my brain. How much time passed I wasn’t certain. I only knew that I had closed my eyes at some point and when I opened them, Lauren was rolling away from me.

  I called her name, but she didn’t answer as she continued scrambling as far as she could in the relatively tight cell. Then, she got sick. Grimacing in sympathy, I managed to get to my feet and made my way over to her. Pulling her hair back, I murmured softly to her in a poor attempt to offer some comfort. This was certainly the less joyful part of pregnancy . . . although, I was very careful not to tell Lauren as much. She’d likely throw something at my head if I were ever so foolish as that.