Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  When I looked up to find him watching me, I offered him a slight smile. The coiled knot in the pit of my stomach eased dramatically when he returned the smile. It also helped that most of our companions were preoccupied with taking in the sights of Plovdiv as we wove through the city center and neared Old Town where the houses were painted bright colors and mingled with the ruins of the past. My own interest was piqued as I observed the differences in the various buildings. I could make out Roman and medieval architecture alike, then the bus stopped in a cobbled courtyard at the base of a large hill with narrower streets covered in cobblestones leading up its sides.

  As we got out, the tour guide began talking in lightly accented English. “Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to welcome you to Plovdiv one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in Europe. We will be approaching Nebet Tepe archeological site on foot before returning to tour some of the other archeological highlights. First, let us pass through Hisar Kapia, one of three gates leading into the ancient fortress originally built here.”

  I listened with half an ear as the guide continued to explain the arched gateway we walked through was actually medieval era and originally built atop the remains of a Roman era gate. My attention was divided between the oddity of walking between ancient stone walls with houses built on top the color of greyish blue or even orange and keeping pace with Mathias. Fortunately, he seemed content to linger more toward the back of the tour group, which was a doubly good thing given the fact there were only a dozen people in the group not counting the tour guide.

  The midday sun warmed the air, and there was no hint of snow on the ground here. Instead, as we neared the summit of the hill, I noticed the grass was already turning green even though the trees hadn’t quite budded with new leaves for the most part. The tour group stopped in front of a path that wrapped around the crown of the hill following along and between the remains of ancient walls. The tour guide was speaking again, her voice carrying easily. “This is Nebet Tepe. Once called the Hill of Musaeus, it originally housed a fortress built by the Thracian people. In those days it was called Eumolpias after one of the Thracian kings, Eumpolos. When Philip II of Macedon, father of Alexander the Great, defeated the Thracians, he renamed the city Philippopolis by which name it has been known for most of its history. As you can see . . .”

  I stopped paying attention as I focused on Mathias. He was watching something near a long stone structure covered by a rounded wooden roof. Then, he abruptly clasped my elbow and steered me over to a large rock. “You’re tired. You need to rest.”

  There had been a distinct degradation in his communication skills since the beginning of the year. But I didn’t protest. Obviously the tour wasn’t his main agenda for coming to this place although it had certainly proven informative. Mathias pulled a small water bottle out of his pocket and handed it to me, then he went to speak to the tour guide who had noticed us and was threading through the group to reach us. I glanced down, but I was only sitting on a natural boulder not anything archeological in nature.

  Whatever Mathias said to her seemed to assure her especially once he slipped her what looked like a wad of cash. I hid a frown as he rejoined me, and the tour guide began calling the group to attention once more. It wasn’t until the group was further away that I dared to speak again. “What was that about?”

  “I informed her that my wife had taken ill and we would be unable to continue the tour. Then, I gave her compensation for the directions to a safe hostel.”

  Shading my eyes with my hand, I gazed up at him. “Are we going to stay in a hostel?”

  “No.” Mathias turned his attention back to the group as they vanished around the side of the hill. “Come on. We need to get in the water reservoir.”

  “In?” I echoed. But he had already pulled me to my feet and was leading me off the path in favor of the rock strewn grass leading to the building he was eying earlier. The water reservoir was clearly ancient. Its stone walls and floor only hinting at what had once been covered in water. We had just gone inside when I noticed the change.

  Out of the shadows, I could see a plainly glowing number. I tensed as it became undeniably clear. It was a 9. I glanced at Mathias, his jaw was set and his long lean body was coiled with tension like a cheetah or sphinx ready to pounce at the slightest provocation. As we drew nearer the opposite end of the reservoir and the glowing number, my heart started beating faster. Everything in me screamed that I should be running in the opposite direction not walking closer to the second highest number I had ever encountered. I took a slow steadying breath as I reminded myself that I was with a 10, and he had handled the 7s and 8s with relative ease. He could handle a 9. Besides, running now probably wouldn’t be a good thing.

  Finally, Mathias stopped walking. He released my hand as he did so and I had never wanted to snatch it back more in my life. There was a distinct tapping sound, wood against stone, and the 9 started moving toward us. A voice that sounded creaky as an ancient oak swaying in a strong wind rang out in a language I didn’t understand. It didn’t even sound like Bulgarian. The tapping sound came closer before the 9 emerged into one of the rays of sunlight offering a little relief from the shadowy interior. A woman tapped her wooden cane against the stones, film turned one of her brown eyes milky white and the other eye fixed on me. Wispy white hair poked out from under and curled around the edges of her black kerchief. Lines radiated from her eyes and her tanned skin had the soft look of aged crepe paper. Age hunched her shoulders and gnarled her fingers, but I had no doubt that she lived up to the promise of the 9.

  Her good eye swept over me and her mouth firmed into a line. Then, she turned to Mathias and rattled off something in that same foreign tongue.

  * * *

  Chapter Two

  Mathias

  “I thought my old ears heard wrongly, but it is true,” came the creaky pronouncement in an ancient tongue. “The last wandering son of Dii, of Myrmidon, has come back to us.”

  Lauren tensed beside me, and I knew she was likely seeing a high number. Later, I would ask her the elder’s number but for now my senses were trained on the potential threat presented by the same woman we sought. The elder emerged from the half-shadows, her half-blind gaze sweeping over Lauren. Her mouth firmed into a line and then she turned to me. A flicker of surprise entered her good eye and she tapped the carved spiral of a cane against the cobblestone as she observed in accented Myrmidon, “You have waited too long. The Biting Ice is in your veins and frosting over your heart.”

  The coldness flowing through me seemed to grow at the words and coated my words as I replied in the same language, “Such an assessment is unnecessary. I am well aware of my present situation.”

  The elder narrowed her eyes at me, and a gentleness threaded its way through her voice as she asked, “Is this why you have come? To die in the cradle of your people?”

  “No.” I held her gaze as I continued with cool assurance, “I have not come to die. This is merely where the journey begins.”

  Her attention snapped back to Lauren who was still standing by my side watching us with wide eyes, even though it was impossible for her to know what we were saying. The elder scowled as she raked her gaze over Lauren once more. A gnarled finger pointed at her as she demanded, “Why have you brought a stranger with you, son of Dii and Myrmidon? You know our laws or else you would not have known to come here. Who is this woman that she accompanies you?”

  I watched her in silence, cold fury raging through me at the challenge. As I struggled to push the coldness back so I might answer, the elder suddenly reached to the center of her black dress, hand vanishing beneath the fringed edge of her shawl. Steel gleamed in the sunlight, and I immediately placed myself between the two women. Reaching behind me with one hand, I made sure Lauren was squarely at my back. The elder was not alone, and I didn’t want her attendants to have a clear shot at Lauren. Ice crackled in my voice as I pinned the elder with a hard stare and stated with utmost clarity, “Don’t e
ven think about doing it. I do not care if you are one of the elders. Touch her and I will kill you. And, your pets.”

  The dagger vanished beneath the shawl once more and then the elder gave a creaking laugh. “No, you most certainly have not come to die. Now, I understand why one of Dii’s wandering sons has returned at last.” Her amusement faded leaving her weathered features as sharp as exposed mountain bones as she continued with an edge to her words, “But, you have brought the wrong girl with you.”

  I heard the faint sounds of her attendants creeping closer even though Lauren couldn’t react to any numbers. Not willing to risk her safety any longer, I pushed Lauren back from me. “Go.”

  She didn’t respond save to clutch at my hand. I realized I had spoken in Myrmidon and switched to English. “Lauren, get out of here. Turn around and don’t look back until you’ve rejoined the tour group. I won’t let them pass.” I pulled out of her grasp, keeping my eyes on the elder as I added coldly, “Go now.”

  * * *

  Lauren

  Mathias’ voice was cold and his words precise. I eyed his back hoping and praying that he wasn’t about to go into a rage. I may not have known exactly what they were saying, but clearly the old woman was challenging my right to be there. Leaving now would have been easy, but it wasn’t the right thing to do . . . and it would mean abandoning Mathias. I wasn’t about to do that.

  I sidled around him so I could face the old woman again. Mathias turned a cold stare on me, and I ignored it. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of two 8s glowing bright in the midst of the darkest shadows of the reservoir. My insides curled and instinct screamed at me to run because I was outnumbered in so many ways, but I forced myself to stand my ground. Meeting the old woman’s steely gaze, I offered a half bow since that usually appeased most of the powerful paranormal species. I considered keeping my gaze on the ground, but instinctively I knew that would be too subservient for this woman so I made myself meet her gaze once more. Keeping my tone pleasant, I quietly said, “My name is Lauren Hope of the Spotters, and I have come to complete the Trials of Achilles.”

  The old woman didn’t so much as blink as she continued studying me. My heart started beating faster as I realized I might have needed to address her in their native tongue. I had learned a bit of several different paranormal species’ native languages over the years, especially when I was working at Halliman’s because you never knew when you would be required to greet a Harpy with the correct blessing on her fishing or bid a Dragon welcome without accidentally offering yourself as treasure. But my knowledge was primarily focused on the courtesy phrases of living paranormal species, mainly those who made up the Seelie and Unseelie courts plus a little Sasquatch and Dracon. I couldn’t even begin to pretend that I knew Myrmidon. At least, I assumed they were speaking Myrmidon. It could have been Thracian for all I knew.

  Clutching at my composure, I slowly turned to Mathias. “Please translate for me since I cannot offer a formal request in your mother tongue.”

  “No.”

  I frowned at him. For once, I dearly wished I was tall enough to easily smack him upside the head. Never mind that smacking a 10 was very likely to be suicidal for anyone, much less a powerless Spotter. “Mathias. Now is not the time for you to be unreasonably stubborn. It didn’t work in Aberdeen. It will not work here. I won’t allow you to sabotage the plan or yourself.” Giving him a scolding look, I added firmly, “Translate for me.”

  A creaky laugh interrupted before Mathias could reply. I turned my attention back to the old woman who was now bent over her cane, laughing. She straightened and then pointed a gnarled hand at me as she spoke in heavily accented English, “Perhaps this one is not the wrong girl after all. She dares to disobey you, son of Dii. Give me your hand, child.”

  “Lauren.”

  I ignored Mathias as I extended my right hand toward the woman. But, I was still shocked when she pounced with surprising speed and wrapped her claw-like hand around my wrist. With surprising ease and an unbreakable grip, she yanked on my wrist causing me to stumble forward a few steps. Her eyes, one brown and one milky white, pinned me in place as she stated bluntly, “The Trials of Achilles are not for the faint of heart. Nor can they be escaped without completion unless life is forfeited. If it is truly your wish to be a Myrmidon’s bride, child, you must prove worthy. Now is your final chance to turn back. Leave the son of Dii to his fate. He will not feel the pain for long since he will soon die. But you . . . you will live.”

  Gazing into her eyes, I knew exactly what to say. “I have come for the Trials, and I will not be frightened away. I am here by choice and by my choice alone do I come here to save the Myrmidon.” I paused and then said in a much softer voice, “I will not abandon Mathias to that fate. Not even for my own life.”

  The old woman made a noise in her throat that almost sounded like approval. Her grip on my wrist tightened as she yanked my coat sleeve up exposing my forearm midway to the elbow. Then, she placed her other hand directly above the first and suddenly spoke in the language I couldn’t understand. My skin burned beneath her grip, feeling as though nettles were stinging me. A pained hiss escaped me.

  When she let go, Mathias’ hands were around my waist pulling me back and against his warm body. The closeness didn’t really have an effect on me this time as I was more focused on my burning skin. When I looked down, I blinked in surprise. But my eyes weren’t playing tricks. A softly glowing tattoo now wrapped its way around my forearm from not quite midpoint to my wrist. It looked like a golden spiral bracelet that ended with a fox’s head resting directly across my wrist.

  The old woman spoke again. This time in the same heavily accented English as before as she tapped her cane against the stones. “Your life, Lauren Hope of the Spotters, is now bound to the Trials of Achilles. If you should fail in your tasks or attempt to turn back at any point, you will die.”

  * * *

  Chapter Three

  Mathias

  I pulled Lauren back against me, but I was already too late. The elder had marked her. Cold flowed through me as I stared down at the faintly glowing tattoo. A death mark. The old woman had actually put a death mark on Lauren.

  Blowing a breath out through my nose, I didn’t bother to check the ice now coating my voice as I glared at the elder. “The death mark was unnecessary,” I snapped in Myrmidon.

  I kept my hands resting on Lauren’s hips and bent my head toward her dark hair as I struggled to regain control over the icy rage demanding I do something about this attack against the only one who mattered. I took a deep breath and focused on the sensation of warmth flowing from Lauren’s slender body, as she remained pressed against my front.

  My gaze still followed the elder as she tapped her cane against the stones beneath our feet. Her attention was still fixed on Lauren, ignoring my protest and even my presence. I didn’t like it. She let out a raspy sigh and continued speaking in English though the effort of speaking in another tongue seemed to tax her. “The Trials of Achilles are comprised of three tasks. You will learn at the end of each completed task, should you actually succeed, what you will be required to face next.”

  Lauren nodded, her voice steadier than I would have expected, as she quietly responded, “I understand.” She took a step away from me forcing me to release my light hold on her despite the instinct that demanded I pull her back and keep her well away from the elder. I forced my hands to remain by my sides as I watched the two women facing each other. Lauren’s shoulders moved up and down as she released a slow breath before asking in a voice that only trembled a little, “Will you tell me of the first task, grandmother?”

  The elder’s smile did not reach her good eye as she looked us over once more. “Translate for me, son of Dii. Your first task is both simple and vigorous. You must find the Golden Hind. When you have tamed the creature, you must lure it to a corral in the Thracian city of Perperikon.” She waited as I forced the words past reluctant lips and then raised her han
d, the gnarled fingers not quite straightening, as she continued, “You must do nothing to harm the creature as the Golden Hind has long been treated as sacred. Achilles, the stain upon our people’s history, cared nothing for the sacred and so now all Myrmidons are bound to treat with respect the boundaries set by other paranormal species. To fail to do so, to disrespect the boundaries, is to follow in Achilles’ shame.”

  When I finished translating the last of the instructions, I moved to ask a question of my own or to prompt Lauren as to discovering the location of the Golden Hind. But Lauren spoke first and I forced myself to wait. Lauren sounded thoughtful as she said, “A task made challenging by the uncertainty of finding the creature. If you please, grandmother, in your wisdom where should I begin my quest for the Golden Hind?”

  Lauren’s deferential tone and blatant flattery seemed to work. The elder gave a creaky laugh and she nodded to me. “Tell her she must go to Belintash. That is where she may begin. Now begone.”

  I watched the elder as she turned and shuffled back into the shadows. The faintest sounds of heavy steps reached my ears, and I detected shadows shifting to join her. The attendants. Unwilling to tarry with them, I reached for Lauren’s elbow and gently turned her in the opposite direction. I didn’t . . . couldn’t speak as I ushered her out of the reservoir and back into the late afternoon sun.

  By the time we returned to the bus station, I was able to think clearly enough to acquire the necessary tickets. Fortunately, the town we needed to go to wasn’t even an hour away. However, the memory of the golden tattoo now on Lauren’s forearm haunted me. How many paranormals would recognize it as a Myrmidon sign, I didn’t know. But, I feared it. It was going to make protecting her more difficult. I rubbed my forehead as a headache threatened.