Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  I smirked. Well, now I knew exactly who I would be facing although I had already guessed as much from the competitors who had already participated on the side of Caesar. A faint glamour shimmered in front of me, preventing me from entering the arena. I listened as an announcer began shouting in Italian and then Latin, “Ladies and gentlemen, royals and nobles, the second to last fight in the Colosseum round will determine the first of two champions who will appear at the Jupiter Games here in Roma in two months’ time when the circuit ends. We all know the rules. Wounding and maiming are permitted as long as no one cheats. If your competitor cheats, you will pay the price. Death or severe injury ends the match unless a forfeit is called. Now for a match we’ve been waiting to see since the Forum round! The rivalry goes back as far as civilization in Greece. Homer spoke of it as did Nereus. Time and time again it led to battle between two great city-states, one the birthplace of philosophy and democracy and the other a place where strength ruled over all. A rivalry that could bear the tales of heroes even to this day. And, now, tonight at the Colosseum we shall all bear witness to this famous feud adding another notch to its belt. The only question is which side will prevail this night. Athens? Or Sparta?”

  The glamour in front of me fell as the announcer kept talking. “We watched him impress with his speed and skill at keeping up the fight even when he took hits. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Alexander of Sparta!”

  I stepped out onto the sand as cheers rose from the viewing boxes around and behind me. But, I couldn’t see the people. Instead, I saw only the glamoured façade of the crumbling stone rising in tiers above me. Interesting. They were determined to maintain the atmosphere and prevent any visual cheating by keeping us from seeing the spectators.

  “And, now, the lion whose fight was tragically interfered with before we could see much of his prowess. His reputation as undefeated in fair fights precedes him. A shifter of strength and fury. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Atlas of Athens!”

  Atlas stepped out on the sand. Like me, he had eschewed the gimmick of old armor in favor of practical clothing. Unlike me, his idea of practical clothing was a pair of loose hanging pants and nothing else. Shifter logic. We met in the center of the arena, and I realized the moment he recognized me. His eyes changed to gold, but he said nothing.

  The gong sounded and we both retreated backwards, never taking our eyes off each other. The announcer was still speaking, but I ignored him. Instead, I settled into the cool precision of instinct as I assessed Atlas. He shifted into his half-form, becoming an anthropomorphic lion. He raised a fur covered hand and made an obscene gesture.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. Really? We were going to behave like unruly teenagers. A ripple of laughter mixed with cheers drifted from the area behind him. No doubt where the Caesars’ sponsors and fans sat. Lauren was either somewhere behind me watching or she was finding information. Either way, I wouldn’t be of help to her until after the fight was finished. I unsheathed my sword and brought it up in a mocking salute. Time to work.

  * * *

  Chapter Seven

  Lauren

  The room was silent and rather cozy. It seemed as though we were miles away from whatever was happening with the games. I toyed with my tea, but still couldn’t bring myself to drink it. Licking my lips, I cleared my throat nervously. “I know what I’m saying sounds crazy. I do. But, it’s true.”

  Raz Yakov rapped a crooked knuckle against the tabletop. “Do you even know the risks you are taking? You married a Ten. Of your own free will. And have revealed to him what you are, even though Weard is actively hunting you.”

  “I know.” I raised a hand. “Please, believe me, I have . . . I know these arguments quite well. I used them myself in the beginning, but my husband is not our enemy. He is the only reason I survived Weard finding me. I couldn’t have gotten this far without him.”

  “How do you know he won’t turn against you? Turn you over to Weard?”

  I brushed my hair back from my face as I debated the best way to answer. “He won’t betray me. He is an honorable man, and he loves me.”

  “Did paranormals learn nothing from the idiocy of Helen and Paris? Guinevere and Lancelot? Love is a very foolish emotion and has a habit of failing when push comes to shove.”

  I shook my head. “Those two unfortunate couples were in lust, not love. Love is stronger, and it does hold out or have you forgotten the story of Auberon and his queen, Titania? Their history carries its own complications, but also depends on their love. The high elves make quite the noise over it.”

  “Yes, and convinced the shifters outside of dragons to share mate bonds with select high elves because of it. Foolish.”

  “Shifters need the stability offered by their mates. Everyone knows that,” I stated firmly.

  Raz Yakov snorted. He waved his hand in front of him, nearly knocking his tea over as he did so. “Weard will find you, and they will make your husband an offer that he won’t be able to refuse.”

  “He won’t do that,” I countered. “He will never willingly betray me.”

  “You will become a burden to him. He is powerful, and you are not. What were you thinking to wed a high number?”

  “I had no choice.”

  Yakov leaned forward, wild eyebrows sinking low over his eyes. “I thought you said it was of your free will.”

  “It is both.” I rubbed at my mark absently. “The timing was not by our choice, but the decision was ours. I could have left him, I chose to stay with him.”

  I almost jumped out of my skin as Yakov’s hand landed on mine. He pulled my right arm forward and shoved my sleeve back to expose the golden tattoo. He stared for a long moment then abruptly released me as he sat back. “Now that is something I never dreamed to see again. Your Ten is not just any powerful paranormal. He is beyond dangerous. He is a Myrmidon. Full blooded enough to acquire you as his bride. You are bound to each other now. What is his name?”

  Habit made me balk. “Please, Yakov, you already know my name. Information I gave freely, but his name is . . . It could be dangerous for you to know.”

  “More dangerous than knowing he is a Ten and a Myrmidon who somehow survived the purges?”

  I hesitated still. Raz Yakov shook his head. “You came to me for help. I cannot give it to you until you prove yourself willing to put as much on the line as I do simply by revealing my existence to you. You can leave Roma whenever you wish. I, however, cannot. Choose. Is the information you’re looking for important enough to you? If not, keep your Ten’s name and go on your way. I certainly won’t follow.”

  The thought of leaving without answers, of facing more nights of confusing dreams mixed with memory was . . . horrible. I hesitated a long moment. I had faced dragon princes and far too many powerful high numbers to get here. Mathias was in the Colosseum because of my need for answers. If I left without any, it would be as though we had taken all these risks for nothing.

  “His name is Mathias, and he was once employed by Weard Enterprises. He broke from them to save me so they want to capture or kill him too. That is how I know he will never betray me. The cost is even higher for him, if he gets caught.” The words left me in a rush.

  Yakov was silent, almost contemplative, as he considered me then he lowered his head. “So it would seem. Very well, Lauren Hope, you may ask your questions now.”

  I gripped my tea tighter, but still didn’t drink it. “I’ve been having . . . dreams. Nightmares really. Or memories. Of my past, of my parents, but they abandoned me as a young child so I don’t understand what I see in the dreams, not really. I don’t know anything about them or about my past, about our people. And I want, no, I need to understand. I need to know about our people, about what was hidden or forgotten after the high numbers turned on us. Please, can you tell me anything of the Spotters?”

  Yakov harrumphed. “I fear I know little outside common knowledge. My parents were killed when I was young as well, and I have spent many years pretending t
o be a Seer rather than a Spotter. It is why I have survived this long. But, I can no longer leave Roma. It is dangerous even for me to leave the hypogeum. I live in the old gladiator school, Ludus Magnus, hidden by the glamour that tells everyone else it’s all ruins now. Two years past, I attempted to leave Roma and was nearly captured by hunters sent by Weard. I dare not leave again. My alliances here, especially with the games officials, keep me protected but not if I leave. Especially not during fight season.”

  “I understand.” I set my tea down once more as bitter disappointment crashed over me. It seems even seers can get things wrong. Raz Yakov didn’t hold any keys to unlocking my past, after all. We had taken all these risks and for nothing.

  “When I first came to Roma, I was younger and looking for answers to our people’s history. I’d heard rumors that Spotters used to live in a settlement somewhere in Italy. Roma is ancient and likes to hold her secrets so I thought to start here.”

  I looked up to find Yakov watching me intently. He cocked his head slightly to the left, the light of the candles flickering across his craggy weathered face in an almost sinister manner. Something completely at odds with the gentleness of his voice as he continued, “I did not find what I was looking for, a repository of sorts. However, I did find a Lore keeper. One who made his life’s study the forgotten and lost paranormal species. He told me that he had learned the history of the Spotters as a race was lost in the ashes of Vesuvius. Not even the Lore keepers could maintain the buried knowledge after so many long centuries. However, with the uncovering of Herculaneum and Pompeii, there is a chance that the knowledge of our people was also rescued. Portions of it in any case.”

  “Did you go there?”

  Yakov shook his head. “No. I meant to, but that was when the hunters found me and almost killed me when I resisted them. The first time. I tried again two years past, but Weard intervened again and now I am no longer able to go.”

  “What if I were to go? To Pompeii. That is where they found the best preserved artifacts, after all. It makes sense to start in Pompeii.” I hesitated, wondering if Mathias would agree to another detour when I was fairly certain he wanted to leave Italy. I glanced at Raz Yakov who was watching me with intense burning in his eyes. He had to want answers as badly as I did. “If I make it there and find something, I will come back to tell you. Perhaps some place without the burning security glamour.”

  He nodded. “I cannot meet you very far, and I do not want you to come to my home. I will meet you on the first level of the Colosseum during the day when the tourists are around. Better hiding in plain sight.”

  “Yes. Thank you for your help.” I rose to my feet. “I must get back to the other patrons.”

  “Your Myrmidon fights?”

  I didn’t answer, my mind was already racing. I wasn’t even certain how much time had passed since I left the viewing room in the company of the dragon prince and woodwose. I nodded to Yakov. “Thank you again.”

  Then, I hurried out of the room. I could only hope he didn’t take offense that I had never taken a sip of tea. But, the worry over manners didn’t last. I had to find out what was happening with Mathias.

  * * *

  Mathias

  The sand flew as the Lion tumbled past me. I whirled, sword extended. A roar shattered the air as my sword cut a thin line along Atlas’ ribs. I moved back warily, bringing my sword to the fore once more.

  Atlas roared again and shifted back into his half-form. His mane shook with the fervor of his next roar. I could hear the crowd’s answering cheers. We were closest to the Caesar side of the arena at the moment. I tightened my grip on my sword as I observed the shifter with cool precision. I could win. Easily. I could win even without killing him. Something slightly more challenging and therefore worthy.

  I did not allow myself to sink fully into the cold, not enough to determine whether he deserved to live or die. I knew he worked for a Therian organization. We had been allies once upon a time. There was no reason to look deeper at what the cold offered to reveal.

  He charged me. I brought my sword down, and he caught my wrist. I allowed it. I even allowed him to grasp my other wrist and push me back, my feet sliding across the sand. Beneath the sound of the crowd shouting, he lowered his tawny head and growled low. “Let me win, Mathias. Lives depend on it.”

  I didn’t answer save to close my eyes briefly in acknowledgement. He knew to make it look good. And, I could not afford to be named the victor in this particular fight. Then I kicked out, catching him in the gut. I kicked again, knocking him on his back, as I wrenched free of his grasp.

  I’d already shed my jacket at the beginning of the fight. We had been in the pit longer than usual. The crowd was getting hungry for blood. Now, they would have it. I charged Atlas, and he transformed back into an oversized lion. He dodged my strike, but I cut off a hank from his mane. That would annoy him.

  He snarled at me and charged. I leapt to the side, raking the sword down his side but not deep enough to do more than sting. He was fast. I would give him that much. But, there would be only one reason he won tonight. Me.

  The lion leapt at me, and I spun away too slowly to escape his outstretched paw. I groaned as hot tendrils of pain raked across my left side. Then, a hard blow landed on top adding insult to injury. I dropped to one knee. This part would not be fun.

  * * *

  Lauren

  The viewing room erupted into groans and curses as Mathias fell to the sand, apparently incapacitated by Atlas. My heart was in my throat. I could hardly breathe as I stared at the mirror glamour. No, no, no! This was a mistake. I never should’ve brought him here. Why wasn’t he fighting back the way I knew he could?

  Nausea swept over me as realization burst. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let an entire arena of powerful paranormals, all of whom had long reach beyond Roma, know what he was. He couldn’t fight the way he had in the past. Because . . . Because of me.

  Atlas struck him again, punching him in his wounded side once more. My fingers tightened into fists, digging into my palms, as I stared in horror at the screen. Please, Mathias, fight.

  I didn’t dare say it out loud, but he never fought back. I watched his head sink into the sand. Then, Atlas roared in triumph as he stood over Mathias’ limp body. He grabbed something, no, it was Mathias’ jacket and tossed it carelessly over Mathias. It covered his face like . . . like a dead man’s shroud.

  My stomach turned violently. I couldn’t even think about him being . . . Closing my eyes, I turned my back on the room as the gong sounded. The announcer’s voice was barely audible above the din of sore losers getting into shouting matches. I heard some mentions of dragon-born, but for the most part I ignored it. The announcer named Atlas of Athens the winner and first champion of the Colosseum.

  We weren’t allowed to leave yet. Somehow, I found myself sitting on the edge of a seat tucked in the far corner of the room. I suddenly realized there was another fight, but I couldn’t see it over the crowd of patrons. I didn’t want to see it. The image of Mathias falling, of the jacket covering him like a shroud, appeared in front of me no matter if my eyes were open or shut.

  I couldn’t show my emotions though. How I couldn’t tell you, but somehow I forced the threats of tears, the apology I wanted to scream, away. I folded my hands in my lap and closed my eyes as though I was merely tired, not scared to death that Mathias had been killed. And, I waited. I waited for the horrible night of the Colosseum fight to end.

  * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Lauren

  “He is this way, Signora.”

  I followed the satyr, wishing he would move faster. But, I didn’t say a word. I couldn’t speak. If I spoke, they would know he was important and I had already put him in enough danger.

  As it was, I still wasn’t entirely certain that I believed the satyr’s assurances that my competitor was only injured. Maybe that’s what they told every sponsor when the death wasn’t obvious in the arena. Maybe he
had been alive when they carried him off the sand only to die in the tunnels. I pushed the thought away with the others.

  “Not long now, Signora. Our healers have been tending him.”

  I didn’t believe him. There was something in his voice, in a barely noticeable hesitation, that screamed out it was a lie. I pushed the rising emotions back down. Now was not the time.

  I caught a glimpse of light up ahead and quiet voices mixed with louder ones. Angry sponsors, no doubt, confronting the healers or the competitors. I didn’t bother to listen to them as I continued following the satyr. His cloven hooves sounded loud against the floor as packed dirt gave way to smooth stone. He led me through a maze of white sheets forming makeshift rooms before stopping in front of one. He smiled, something that should have been less cheery, as he pulled back a sheet.

  Mathias was sitting on a cot, feet resting on the floor, as he pulled away from a flustered sprite that was hovering with a shot in hand. He finished shrugging into his jacket as he grumbled in Italian, “I said no. I do not need to be knocked out again. Nor do I need surgery.”

  Well, there was another lie. I pushed the new flood of emotions battering at my control back once more. I opened my mouth and then closed it, afraid of what I would reveal if I let anything slip out. Mathias noticed me. He offered a faint smile. “Ah, Signora Tilki, I fear tonight was not a victory.”

  “Not for you,” I noted coolly. Then, I looked at the sprite. “Is that necessary? I wish to leave, and they will not permit me to do so without him.”