Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  I glanced at her. Her lips were curved in a fond smile even as she shook her head in an almost exasperated manner. “TDS?”

  Her eyes widened slightly, and I had the distinct impression that she had not intended to let that slip. But within a breath, her expression was relaxed once more and left me wondering if my first impression had been correct at all. She gave a little laugh. We were alone for a moment on the stairs and she kept her voice low as she replied, “TDS stands for Tall, Dark, and oh so Serious.” She flashed a bright grin and added, “And I love him to the end. But, he does require prodding at times simply because he can be too serious.”

  “I see.” She was as insane as I first thought. Who in their right mind intentionally prods a powerful shifter? Absolute lunacy. I glanced ahead at the darkness enshrouded platform. “Is this where you wish to go?”

  “Yes. You will see why in just a few minutes.”

  Atalanta kept her arm looped through mine, leaving me with no choice but to accompany her into the darkness. There were only a few other patrons present, their 8s and 9s gleaming brightly in the dark. I swallowed hard when I caught sight of the two men from before. Dragons were best avoided, especially royal dragons. I could only hope and pray that he didn’t follow suit with a declaration of my true species as his fellow princes had every time I met them. The tiniest frisson of relief skittered down my spine and eased the bands around my chest as Atalanta led me to the opposite side of the platform. The space directly in front of the railing glimmered faintly and once I stood still, I could see a glamour had been placed there. Only this one was used to give the impression of sitting slightly above the lawn and the competitors.

  So, this was how they did it. I had heard of window glamours, but they were a rare trick. They were also reserved for the wealthiest and most prominent families. I glanced around at the other patrons who were watching intently as the first two fighters walked out onto the lawn. Then again if anyone was going to indulge in this particular luxury, it would be those who brought in fighters to recreate the Colosseum.

  I swallowed hard and glanced at Atalanta as roars rose from the platforms below, but ours remained silent. She smiled in response and leaned in close to whisper, “The patrons here have put forth the best fighters who will fight in the later rounds. The night always begins with some showy displays and some throwaway fights.”

  “Throwaways? That seems . . . unbalanced,” I said very carefully, all too aware that the other patrons were species who had superior hearing to my own. We were still speaking Turkish, but anyone could understand it and not give themselves away. Better to be cautious. Especially when my skin crawled with the desire to escape and hide from all the high numbers.

  Atalanta smiled. “No, the token fights are more to warm the blood. It allows our true competitors to change into suitable armor.”

  The mention of armor sent another chill running down my spine. Armor was necessary because they fought with real weapons. Nothing was dulled or blunted. Loss of life and limb was a true possibility in these fights. And, Mathias was participating solely because I couldn’t leave things alone and wanted to speak to a seer hidden in the underground of the Colosseum. We should have found a way to do this without going through the fights. What had I been thinking?

  Yet, it was too late. There was no turning back now. I forced myself to stay still even though I wanted to pace or even run down to the lawn to try and stop him. Time seemed to drag on even as I politely clapped when the first real fight between an Amazon and a minotaur took place. The platform below us went wild when the Amazon won. Cheers of ‘Xanthe’ rang out as the Amazon raised her sword and shield in triumph.

  Atalanta murmured, “She’s good.”

  I only nodded as the next pair of fighters entered the lawn. A demi who was apparently inspired by Heracles’ Nemean Lion cloak and a shifter . . . who promptly shifted into an anthropomorphic lion. Laughter emerged from the other patrons on our platform, and Atalanta covered her mouth as she giggled. The fight was over almost before it began, as the lion shifter emerged victorious.

  My mind kept wandering as the fights continued, imagining all sorts of worst case scenarios. What if someone recognized Mathias? What if they realized he was Myrmidon? What if he was wounded during the fight or worse killed? A sudden cheer from beside me jolted me out of the spiral of morbidity, and I realized I was almost strangling the railing.

  My gaze went to the window glamour. Two shifters, both bears, were wrestling in the middle of the lawn while a lion stalked around them. One of the bears pulled away only to be confronted by the lion as he assumed his half-form, sword grasped in his furred hand. The bear that had signaled surrender suddenly threw a powdery substance into the lion’s face. He stumbled back, clearly affected as he shook his massive head shaggy mane flying. Atalanta growled and a cry went up around us, “Cheat! Cheat! Cheat!”

  Atalanta’s eyes were pure shifter gold as she glanced down at me. “The bears’ sponsor is about to pay a price for their use of ‘nip against Atlas.”

  The glamour suddenly split, showing both the lawn where the competitors were being separated and one of the brightly lit and crowded lower platforms. I swallowed hard as dread tightened in the pit of my stomach. My mouth parched as two of the large security guards came up on either side of an ashen faced woman dressed all in red. Her bright red lipstick stood out like crayon against faded porcelain. But, she carried herself with dignity as she was led away. The glamour returned its focus to the lawn and then a short scream filled the night.

  I flinched and low murmurs drifted from other patrons, but no one went to investigate. Heavy steps carried clearly through the darkness, and I half-turned to watch as another burly guard appeared with the sprite from before right behind him. Her wings were beating so fast that her feet never touched the ground as she zipped toward Atalanta. “Signora Atalanta of Fortriu, your competitor has been temporarily disabled due to the illegal use of ‘nip. Because he was winning when the incident occurred, we welcome him to the second round. And, the patron who failed to properly control her competitors has paid the penalty while they are all banned from the Roma games for the next century.”

  Atalanta did not hide her frown as she regarded the sprite. “The brothers were not properly searched. Any shifter could have sniffed ‘nip on them.”

  The sprite’s wings beat even faster, causing her to hover at eye level with Atalanta. She gripped the data pad tightly between her hands as she bowed her head. “On behalf of the games, we would offer recompense. Within reason.”

  “I wish to inspect my competitor with my own eyes. And, I wish for Signora Tilki to accompany me as a vouchsafe.”

  I barely kept my gaze steady as the sprite glanced from Atalanta to me. Why did the high numbers always have to pull me into such uncomfortable situations? I glanced at the other end of the platform and barely kept from panicking. Many of the numbers were flickering, hinting at dangerously higher ones. And, most were already 8s.

  My gaze was drawn to Atalanta’s number. The steady 7 was now flickering, hinting at an 8. This was every Spotter’s worst nightmare. Utterly surrounded by high numbers, all of whom were on the verge of losing their collective tempers.

  “Agree, sprite, or I shall not return.”

  The sprite flushed, and her mouth dropped open slightly before she turned to face the other end of the platform. The dragon had strolled forward, and now observed the sprite with almost too casual a stance. He spoke again, his Italian only lightly accented. “Agree to the inspection and chosen vouchsafe or I shall withdraw all interest in these games. And, I shall ensure others follow suit.”

  The sprite looked down at her data pad and typed something before she bowed. “It shall be done, Prince Tao. Signoras, if you will accompany me.”

  Atalanta looped her arm through mine and once more propelled me into movement. Down the stairs we went with our sprite escort hovering in front of us, and the hulking security directly behind. When we reached the
bottom level, I couldn’t help noticing a woman being escorted out ahead of us. The same woman in red who had been dragged away earlier. She carried herself tall, but I caught a glimpse of her cradling her left arm tightly against her body. We were led in a different direction before I could see why the woman clutched her arm.

  We went across the cobblestones and to a smaller path that ran into a large tent between the lawn and the basilica. It was something I hadn’t even noticed on our approach to the basilica. As we neared the tent, I realized the fabric itself seemed to shimmer and shine in an unusual way. Some sort of glamour had been woven directly into the cloth. I’d heard of it, something close to sylph-made cloth, but it was incredibly rare.

  We stepped inside to find more opaque lengths of fabric forming walls within the tent itself. The sprite escorting us led the way to the center of the tent and pulled the fabric back to reveal a cloth covered table. Atlas sat on it, clad in only a pair of shorts, and was busy eating a bleeding steak. He looked up and peered at us through red rimmed eyes. “Those idiots managed to sneak ‘nip out with them. Or someone allowed it.”

  The sprite bristled, her wings lifting her into a hover again. Then, she glanced down at her data pad. “Signoras, you must forgive my departure, but I must make a report regarding this regrettable incident. Signora Atalanta, when you have finished assuring yourself to the competitor’s wellbeing, will you speak to the others including Prince Tao? Assure them of your faith in the games.”

  “If I have such faith, I will do so.” Atalanta glanced at her with golden eyes, and the sprite moved back ever so slightly. A foolish thing to do when confronted by a predator.

  She grew pale, no doubt realizing her mistake. Clearing her throat, she bowed her head. “Very well. You have ten minutes to assure yourselves, then Gino will escort you back to your viewing platform.”

  As soon as she left, Atalanta nodded to me. Then, she gestured to the wall to our right. “He’s down there. Only three meters. Go. I need to scold Atlas, and it goes better without additional witnesses.”

  I nodded and slipped out, more than a little relieved to escape the suffocating feel of power rolling off the two shifters. Walking to the second opening, I peeked through the crack first. Mathias’ daggers lay on a low bench. I slipped inside the makeshift room and immediately froze as something sharp touched my neck.

  Peeking up and to the left, I met Mathias’ blue-green eyes. They were cool and more than a little reproving as he lifted the third dagger from where it had lain against my skin. He grabbed me by the wrist and tugged me further into the makeshift room. It was only then that I realized he had changed out of his suit into leather pants and high boots that molded to his calves. His torso was still bare although a leather chest plate lay beside the daggers. My gaze drifted over his long lean torso. To reassure myself that he wasn’t injured . . . of course.

  “You shouldn’t be down here,” came the quiet words in Turkish.

  The words and the chosen language were enough to jolt me out of my inspection. I looked up to meet his reproving gaze. Keeping my voice low, I whispered in Turkish, “I was invited. Atlas was cheated against by his competitors, and Atalanta insisted on inspecting him. I’m supposed to be her vouchsafe.”

  Mathias’ mouth tightened, lips thinning slightly, as his eyes flickered from me to the makeshift walls and then back to me. His hand was warm against my bare forearm as he pulled me closer until there was hardly any space between us. Despite the disapproval in his eyes, his touch was as gentle as ever when he slid his free hand up my neck to cradle my jaw. His breath tickled as he leaned in to whisper in my ear, “Heart-love, you must go back to the viewing platforms and stay out of any more game politics. They tend to draw attention even when they aren’t messy. You’ve seen me fight. Trust that. I will be fine. I intend to win our way into the Colosseum, but you must return to your proper place. It is too dangerous for you to be down here among the competitors.”

  My heart skipped at the thought of Mathias having to fight. I had seen him fight. That didn’t mean I wanted him to do so. There was so much risk, especially when the competitors themselves didn’t all care so much about how they won so long as they were able to win. All these things raced through my mind, but they hung thick on my tongue and I couldn’t get them out.

  I drew a ragged breath as I slipped my arms around Mathias. Pressing my forehead against his chest, I drew another shaky breath. His breathing remained steady, of course, and he didn’t seem troubled at all even though he rubbed my back. I took another breath, this one steadier than before, and forced myself to step back. I fussed with my hanging sleeves and then reached up to ensure the chain across my forehead hadn’t twisted.

  Mathias caught my right hand in the midst of my fussing. He didn’t say anything though. Instead, he only held my gaze, his own blazing with intensity, as he pressed a kiss against the fox head on my wrist. Then, he jerked his chin toward the door. “Go now, Aysun. I will see you in victory.”

  I wanted to protest or at least warn him to be careful of tricks and cheats. But, I caught the tiniest movement of his hand. His index and pointer fingers were together and slightly separated from the others. He wiggled them up and down once. The signal that someone was lurking nearby and likely listening.

  Swallowing everything I wanted to say, I licked my lips and nodded once. As soon as I stepped out of the makeshift room, I was greeted by the hulking guard, and the sprite. She frowned at me. “Signora Tilki, you should be vouchsafing for Signora Atalanta, not wandering.”

  As tempting as the thought of seeking someone else out to deflect attention was, I knew I couldn’t do it. Instead, I drew myself up and took advantage of the extra inches granted by my heels to peer down my nose at the sprite. I let my Turkish accent grow a little heavier as I retorted in the same Italian she used, “I have witnessed an unfortunate lapse in your games’ promise of fair and sporting play. It is little wonder that I would wish to inspect my own competitor to ensure myself that similar sabotage was not attempted on him.” When she did not respond, I cooled my voice and added, “Is it not? Or do the games’ officials prefer to hide the evidence of such . . . mischief when it does not occur on the field?”

  The sprite’s gasp was audible, and her cheeks turned red as her wings beat faster. She hovered so we were eye level for a long moment, her mouth working but no sounds were forthcoming.

  I pressed my advantage, not wanting her to grow so agitated I was thrown out. “It would be a pity if I must report to Prince Tao a lack of cooperation and understanding for assuring myself that my competitor was still in peak fighting form.”

  Her data pad chirped, and the sprite dropped to the ground once more. She glared at me, but then muttered through clenched teeth, “It is not a problem, Signora Tilki, and understandable. However, time is up. We must return to the basilica. Unless you intend to withdraw your competitor . . .”

  She trailed off, leaving me the barest flicker of hope that we could escape this debacle unscathed. However . . . I raised an eyebrow at her. “I believe there is a penalty demanded in such an event, is there not?”

  Her wings fluttered once before going still. “There is the matter of the brand. However, some competitors are worthy only of the coward’s brand as it excuses them from ever participating in the games again. As for you . . . There would be a penalty, yes. Monetary or a pound of flesh.”

  I used to believe that all high number paranormals were a bit crazy. Apparently their staff was not immune to the craze of power either. I glanced up to see the sprite’s number suddenly flickering into a 5 and 6. I hated this place, these games. Somehow I found the strength to offer a cool smile. “Your concern is unnecessary. My competitor will remain in the game.”

  “He will be inspected again to ensure you have not given him anything to aid him unfairly.”

  I raised an eyebrow at that. “Such insults should be couched with greater care. Seekers know how to find powerful friends, after all. Inspect my compe
titor all you like. He has no need of aids to win at this fight.”

  Squaring my shoulders, I held my head high and pretended I wasn’t absolutely terrified as I walked away from the sprite. Atalanta joined me with a clear smirk playing across her lips. She nodded to me as she looped her arm through mine once again. “Nicely handled.”

  “Thank you.”

  I was thankful to have her as a seeming ally . . . even if she was a bit mad. Although, all I truly wanted was for the night to end. I wanted to escape before we were discovered or worse Mathias was injured. Or killed. I took a steadying breath against the terrifying thought. God willing, we would enter the Colosseum and be out again by morning. The fights couldn’t last much longer if it was already two in the morning. I hoped.

  * * *

  Chapter Six

  Mathias

  I closed the door to our hotel suite and flipped the locks in place before I pulled a marble token out of my jacket pocket. I held it up as Lauren turned on the room lights. This token took the form of a medallion with the Colosseum in raised relief on one side and the victor’s laurel on the other. I flipped it once and caught it. “I told you I would triumph.”

  Lauren didn’t look at me as she pulled the curtains shut, blocking out the early morning light. “Tens are vexingly overconfident.”

  I smiled in spite of the dull ache in my ribs. “And you’ve known many Tens, little Spotter?”

  “I’ve known you,” she muttered, “that is more than enough.”

  A low chuckle escaped me as I crossed the room to wrap an arm around her waist. Holding the token in front of her, I kissed her temple. “We have access to the Colosseum. We can find this Yakov together, and then we leave Roma behind.” I paused, studying her face. She was still pale and a little worn looking now that she no longer pretended to be a Turkish princess. “Forever if you’d like, love.”