Rogue Spotter Collection

by Kimberly A Rogers

  I hid a frown. “What type of training?”

  “The best way to assess situations between more dangerous paranormals as well as how to respond where needed. At least, that’s what we’ve gleaned so far. Some of the details are still unknown. We believe the Spotters fulfilled a far more complex role within paranormal society than the histories have recorded. A role that I personally believe our world would have been better off keeping.”

  I glanced at Mathias. He raised his eyebrows at me and patted my hand where I still clung to his. When he didn’t say anything, I hurried to pick up the slack. “You are very . . . passionate about the Spotters, Daniel.”

  He gave a little embarrassed chuckle and adjusted his glasses before responding, “Yes, well . . . Spotters and Lore keepers actually aren’t wholly disparate from each other. We’re both derivatives of the Seer talent. In fact, it is my belief that this is why Spotters were able to somehow survive not only the first purge, but also the second one carried out under the guise of the inquisition.”

  “Which one?”

  “Take your pick,” he muttered. “In any case, the Spotter talent is known to be recessive, which would make it possible to hide for generations before manifesting in a particular child. Rather like having blonde hair or blue eyes in a family of brown hair or brown eyes. Only it does seem to be an increasingly rare thing these days. Perhaps certain powers that be have finally succeeded in stamping them out.”

  “This bothers you,” I murmured, noting the tension radiating from the docent’s shoulders. “May I ask why?”

  Daniel sighed and adjusted his glasses before running a thumb across his brow, nudging the edge of his bandana. “Yes, well, I do not like that a peaceful species was targeted for the sole reason that their knowledge was considered . . . inconvenient by the powerful paranormals who weren’t able to scheme as well with them around. When you use such logic, how long before Lore keepers are targeted as well? After all, we like the Spotters have the ability to disrupt the powerful under the right circumstances. It is not a pleasant thought, non?”

  “No, it is not.” I fell silent, mind whirling with the implications. Why hadn’t the Lore keepers been targeted in the same way? Of course, Lore keepers were different. It wasn’t as though everyone in their species held all the same knowledge. They specialized in specific areas and interests. If a Lore keeper’s knowledge became . . . dangerous or inconvenient as Daniel called it, then it was easy to put a stop to it. Just one Lore keeper needed to vanish.

  “May I ask why you’re searching for Spotters? Are you one?”

  I hesitated, tightening my grip on Mathias’ hand, before nodding. “Yes.”

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Mathias

  Lauren’s nails kept digging into my hand as her grip tightened with every passing moment. I hid any hint of discomfort, however, as I watched the docent carefully. He stumbled in response to Lauren’s confirmation that she was in fact a Spotter, something I would’ve preferred she’d kept to herself.

  However, I sensed no malice in the man as he spun to face us, eyes wide behind his glasses. “Truly? You are one of them?”

  Lauren nodded. “I am.”

  Daniel ran a hand along his smooth jaw, then grinned. “This is . . . This is wonderful! Do you know how I have longed to speak to a Spotter? Marie, she is my partner . . . we have been studying the old records of documented Spotters for decades! Trying to trace the bloodlines, but we’ve had a terrible time tracing them after the Inquisitions and also Salem in the New World, which we believe was a ploy used to stamp out the Spotter families who escaped with the Therian shifters during their Great Purge in Europe. In any case, our goal was to trace the bloodlines and find living survivors.” He clasped his hands together as a low chuckle escaped him, his eyes still fixed on Lauren. “And, you are here. How astounding. Marie will be delighted!”

  “Why are you so determined to find survivors?” I interjected, watching him carefully. “Did Weard hire you to trace the information?”

  The docent’s gaze flicked to me, and he shook his head. “Non, non.” He looked from me to Lauren, and then back to me as a hint of censure entered his voice. “We are independent of affiliation. We applied to the Dragon Prince of Naples for permission to study Herculaneum. Weard’s pocket riders are far more interested in Pompeii. We have no association with Weard. They’re mongering after treasure and weapons like those are all that matter in life. They care nothing for history. And, who would care besides a pair of eccentrics to trace the bloodlines of an extinct race of paranormals, hmm? No one.”

  Lauren’s dark gaze was pleading when I looked down at her. She tilted her head slightly toward the ruffled Lore keeper as she mouthed a silent plea. I met the docent’s irate gaze and bowed my head slightly. “I see. Forgive me for implying the association. Rudeness was never my intent, however, her safety is of utmost importance to me.”

  Daniel sniffed, then his eyes dropped to where Lauren still clung to my hand. “Ah, I see now. Very well, I shall accept your apology.”

  He waved for us to follow as he continued speaking, “As I said before, the scrolls Marie and I are studying were protected. They are in much better shape than those that were removed to Naples for preservation. A good thing as it allows us to study in better privacy.” He glanced over his shoulder, gaze settling on Lauren, as he asked, “Do you know much of your heritage? Your bloodline?”

  Lauren shook her head. “No, I’m afraid not. Other than being Turkish, I really don’t know much about my past. My parents . . .”

  Hearing the slight break in her voice, I reached across to fold my other hand around Lauren’s. Cradling her hand between both of mine now, I squeezed lightly. She darted a faint smile at me then continued, “I lost them at a young age, and I have difficulty recalling those early memories.”

  * * *

  Lauren

  Daniel’s mouth curved into a smile once more and he waved for us to keep following as he quickened his pace. “Come! Come! Marie, she has the talent for retrieving knowledge. It is a rare and peculiar talent of Lore keeping, difficult to master. She has trained only three others, and only one is as successful.”

  I frowned slightly. “I don’t understand. How is this different from being a Lore keeper?”

  “It is not different so much as it is more. Few have the ability, much less skill, to learn how to retrieve knowledge that cannot be found in scrolls and histories. And here,” he waved a hand at the walls of volcanic deposits filling the spaces between marble columns, “we have an additional advantage. A memory mirror from ancient days. It is a very powerful tool and, when combined with Marie’s talent, it can be used to access memories. Even those that are latent.”

  Old stories, legends really, about how messing with forgotten memories could easily turn to tragedy even though the method itself wasn’t as fickle as attempting to use hypnosis since your own beliefs couldn’t affect the retrieval process. Norms were the only ones who played with hypnosis though. Paranormals knew better than to try such light trances, especially on each other. Although there were species who could enthrall or manipulate the senses, including planting false memories. Still, there was some truth in the adage of allowing the lost to lie forgotten.

  Yet, my throat prickled and my stomach churned uneasily at the thought of turning back now. I had hoped for answers about my people. Getting answers about my parents and what really happened in my past . . . It would be an unexpected boon.

  Mathias touched my hand again, and I realized I was holding on so tight that I was digging my nails into his hand. I quickly relaxed my grip. Despite wanting to ask him what he thought, I could already guess. It was a risk. There was no guarantee that what Daniel promised would actually give me answers. And, one never knew how the mind would react to poking at buried memories. Yet . . .

  I looked up into Mathias’ blue-green eyes. The corner of his mouth curved slightly into the barest hint of a smile. He tilted his head
toward me, but said nothing. I understood though. He was with me, whatever I decided. Just as he had been every step of the way, since Venice. Well, since Halliman’s really.

  Turning my attention back to Daniel, I nodded. “I would be honored to attempt it. Where do we begin?”

  “With Marie.” The words no sooner left his mouth than he spun on his heel and hurried off.

  Before I could follow him, Mathias abruptly let go of my hand in favor of pulling me close. I wrapped an arm around his waist, burying my face in his leather jacket for half a breath. We didn’t say anything, we didn’t need to, before we started walking again. I was more than a little glad that Mathias kept his arm draped across my shoulders, however. I kept my arm around his waist as well, not wanting to let go too soon.

  We followed Daniel deeper into the buried villa. Every once in a while I caught a glimpse of a glamour’s sheen between the almost ghostly columns and arches, a protective glamour that was acting as a shield no doubt. I didn’t have a talent for guessing the age of objects unless something was ancient enough to be felt by even minor paranormals like me, however, if I were to guess, the glamours were likely recent. Established when the paranormals began secretly burrowing further into the villa, perhaps to replace old protective glamours as Daniel mentioned.

  We turned to the right and entered a portion of the villa that wasn’t as well lit as the rest. I could barely see the columns now. As we walked further, I realized I had stopped seeing the columns all together because the volcanic deposits were inside the villa’s open structure. We were in a narrow corridor with dusty mosaic tiles barely visible on the floor. Daniel had a lantern in one hand. I didn’t remember seeing him pick it up, but I must’ve been too distracted to pay close attention.

  “It is not far. We did not attempt to clear the entire hall. Only the rooms beyond are clear because they were never struck by the ash, never carbonized in the same way. It is a sight beyond words, truly. You will see when we arrive.”

  I believed him. Walking into the buried remains of a Roman villa that had been lost for centuries was bizarre enough. Knowing that the promised destination potentially held so many of the answers to questions I had carried for all my life? Now, that was what truly took my breath away.

  The narrow corridor gave away to a shallow basin in front of an arched doorway. There were reliefs of the old Roman and Greek gods. I recognized one of them as Athena or Minerva depending on whom you asked. Another was Janus, the god with two faces. The Romans worshipped him as the god of beginnings and vigilance, as a guardian of doorways. The goddess of wisdom and the god of beginnings and vigilance. Appropriate enough, I supposed. Slipping my arm from around Mathias, I stepped forward out of his hold just as Daniel turned to face us once more. He smiled and nodded to me, his French accent somewhat more pronounced now. “Marie is through here. Shall we?”

  I nodded. “I am ready.”

  Then, I stepped through the doorway. After running into so many protections since coming into Italy, it was almost strange to find there wasn’t another protective glamour beyond the doorway. Instead, I stepped into a decent sized room filled with rows upon rows of narrow shelves. Each shelf contained cubbyholes filled with scrolls. Some scrolls were inside wooden boxes, but most were simply stacked together.

  Daniel walked into the center of the room, leading the way around several of the shelves until we emerged into an open area. A large wooden table that was nearly black with age stood in the center and a woman with spiked silver-blue hair and a 4 glowing overhead was leaning over it as she studied an open scroll of papyrus, taking notes as she went. She addressed Daniel in French, “Why are you so late? We should have been through three scrolls by now.”

  “Marie, I have found one of them.”

  “One of what?”

  “Not what. Who.” Daniel gestured to me excitedly as he breathed, “A Spotter!”

  Marie straightened slowly before turning to face us. The exasperation on her face faded to surprise as her attention fell on me. Her brow furrowed as surprise turned to confusion. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Lauren,” I said as I stepped forward, “and I am looking for answers to my past, and my heritage as a Spotter.”

  * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Mathias

  Marie and Daniel carefully removed a drop cloth from a concave stand, exposing a bronze mirror that gleamed faintly in the light of their lanterns. The two Lore keepers seemed harmless enough, but I still stood back a little. I did not believe there was anyone else in the room. It was just common sense to keep my distance.

  Lauren, however, remained close to the two scholars. Her dark eyes and hair gleamed in contrast with the distorted cast of her lightly tanned complexion in the mirror’s surface. The mirror was in far better shape than most ancient mirrors, but it still failed to accurately reflect my wife’s appearance. My gaze dropped to her right hand as her fingers tapped a rapid rhythm against her thigh. A nervousness that didn’t show in her voice, however, when she broke the hushed silence. “How long has this been here? Since the eruption?”

  Marie was the one who answered, her French accent thick, “We believe this memory mirror was brought here by the survivors of Troy.”

  “By Aeneas?” I questioned.

  She glanced at me as she nodded before returning her attention to Lauren. “As the histories tell us, Aeneas was a leader of the paranormals who escaped the fall of Troy. He wandered for a while and eventually made his way to Italy. Herculaneum was first founded as a Greek settlement, but there is evidence here to suggest that it is even older than that.” She placed a gloved hand against the etched bronze frame surrounding the large mirror. “Very few memory mirrors have survived to the present in the west, though it is said only two exist in the keep of the eastern dragon kings. The only reason this one remains here, instead of being removed to the prince’s trove, is because it cannot possibly be moved without being destroyed. He would rather have a working memory mirror here than store a broken one in his trove. He’s a very practical dragon.”

  Until someone attempted to cross him, no doubt. However, I kept that thought to myself. A practical dragon prince was preferable to a meddler like the dragon prince of Venice.

  “Practical dragons are always a blessing,” Lauren murmured, causing me to swallow a laugh. “How does the process work?”

  “I will assist you in accessing the locked memories,” Marie replied. She stroked the mirror’s frame lightly and then turned to face Lauren. Raising her hands, she silently asked permission, which Lauren gave with a nod.

  I slipped my hands beneath my jacket, checking my daggers since I had left my sword in the lorry. My side pulled and ached, reminding me that the souvenirs I gathered in the Colosseum had yet to finish healing. They shouldn’t get in my way though. I would not allow them to get in my way.

  Marie now stood with one bare hand, resting her fingertips against Lauren’s temple. “You said you lost your parents as a young child. However, memories can still be touched, felt, tasted, heard, and smelt. Think of your parents. What do you smell?”

  I edged to my left so I could better see the mirror. Lauren’s eyes fluttered closed, and I watched her draw a deep breath. She exhaled slowly. “Jasmine.”

  “Why jasmine?”

  Her brow wrinkled, then smoothed. “Mama always smells like jasmine. There was a glass vase that held clear liquid and she would dab it on her wrists. Behind her ears. She always smells like jasmine.”

  “Good. What do you taste?”

  “Baklava and Lokum, Turkish delight. Baba brought some home to surprise Mama because . . . she was sad we couldn’t go to Turkey.”

  Marie nodded, then reached out with her other gloved hand and carefully touched the inner edge of the mirror. The bronze surface rippled oddly. “What do you hear?”

  “Baba says ‘Yalla Habibti.’” Lauren’s lips quirked into a little smile. “Come on, darling. Says it all the time when he wants us to h
urry. Mama will call him ‘Askïm’, my love, and both of us she calls ‘Canïm’, my life. Baba will call her ‘Ayïm’, my moon.”

  A shimmering wave rushed over the surface of the mirror as Marie murmured, “What about touch?”

  “Baba will carry me on his shoulders. He says it is because I am like Mama, my legs are too short for long journeys. I like being up high and looking down at Mama.” The little smile trembled suddenly, then faded as she inhaled sharply. “The touch of Mama’s necklace is cold. I don’t want to keep it.”

  “What do you feel?”

  “Safe, warm.” Lauren drew a shaky breath and her brow furrowed as she continued, “Alone. Cold.”

  “Where are your parents?”

  “Gone. They went away and left me behind. I don’t understand why.”

  Marie nodded, sympathy softening her gaze. “Do you wish to know what you’ve hidden?”

  “There’s nothing there.”

  “Yes, there is. I can help you see it. Do you want to see it?”

  There was a split second of silence and then Lauren breathed, “Yes.”

  Another shimmering wave darted across the memory mirror but clouds rolled in its wake, obscuring the mirror’s surface. However, as the clouds reached the far side of the mirror, an image slowly formed in their wake. It was blurry at first, but then the image became clearer forming into the shape of a woman. Petite with dark hair that peaked in the center, a creamy tan complexion like Lauren’s, wide dark eyes. And a 4 that glowed golden above her dark hair. I blinked in surprise. That was how Lauren saw everyone she met?