Trials by Numbers Read online

  Trials by Numbers

  Rogue Spotter

  Book Three

  Kimberly A. Rogers

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people or entities, living or dead, business establishments, locals, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Kimberly A. Rogers

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed or electronic reviews, without the prior permission of the author and copyright holder.

  Cover design by Rachel Rossano

  http://rossanodesigns.weebly.com

  Dedication

  To Tom Hiddleston for still being the perfect inspiration for Mathias

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Note from the Author

  Rogue Spotter

  You May Also Like . . .

  Also by Kimberly A. Rogers

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you as always to my family who support my efforts.

  I also want to thank my early readers who have been cheering for this story since I first started working on it and introduced them to Mr. 10. Thank you all!

  Additional shout out to Rachel Rossano for creating yet another magnificent cover!

  Finally, thank you to my Lord and Savior without whom I am nothing.

  Chapter One

  Lauren

  The sound of announcements flowed over loudspeakers as I followed Mathias through the bustling terminal. The bright and airy atmosphere produced by large windows seemed to capture any and all sunlight offered on this late March morning. The airport at Sofia, Bulgaria could best be described as bright with clean modern lines painted white and glass architecture providing a decidedly modern flair. And, it was crowded. I kept my attention on the numbers. The crowds around us seemed to move in pockets at a steady pace causing the glowing numbers above their heads to mingle in a manner that was a little disconcerting since there were times when I couldn’t easily see each individual number. And, that I didn’t like at all. What use was my skill if I couldn’t actually make out if there were any high numbers nearby?

  So far, the only high number I saw was the 10 glowing steadily in the air above Mathias’ head, which was a far more comforting thought than I would have ever guessed a year ago. But my entire life had changed since the day I crossed paths with Mathias in Olympia, Washington almost ten months ago. He had been in the employ of Weard Enterprises. the preeminent security company in both paranormal and norm society, and working as the new security consultant at Halliman’s. The premier PR firm for the paranormal community, where I had been hiding my own unusual and valuable ability.

  My name is Lauren Hope . . . and I’m what’s called a Spotter. I spot the people who are or can be threats. I see numbers floating over their heads that indicate their threat potential. The higher the number, the more dangerous the person, and the greater the threat. No other type of paranormal had this ability, making it a very dangerous gift to have given the fact that there were just as many people who would love to control me as those who would kill me to keep their deadliness secret. Exploitation or destruction weren’t the kind of choices I wanted to make so I spent my entire life hiding what I am and keeping my head down. Until I met Mathias.

  I dodged past a family of determined looking Sprites whose transparent wings were beating so fast they had all gained a good six inches in height, making the rather short Seelie closer to Mathias’ six foot two height than my own five-two. They were speaking in German at such a fast clip that I could only make out a smattering of words. Looking around, I realized Mathias was ahead of me again, his long strides completely unhampered . . . Which was disgustingly annoying as I battled not only my naturally shorter stride, but the fact that I was still stumping around with a walking boot encasing my left ankle. I didn’t call out to him since I couldn’t actually recall his current alias. I couldn’t even recall mine.

  At least, I wouldn’t be able to lose him in the crowd since Mathias had the unusual distinction of being the only paranormal 10 that I had ever encountered, a number that immediately made him one of the most dangerous men in the world. But when I was revealed as a Spotter, Mathias helped me escape Weard’s clutches because it turned out that Weard was now in the business of hunting innocent paranormals for their unique abilities. I escaped with him out of necessity, not sure if I could believe him or trust my own feelings on the matter. After spending almost ten full months on the run, I knew Mathias was as honorable as he was dangerous. And, I was completely and rather hopelessly in love with him.

  The 10 finally stopped moving, and I quickened my pace as much as I could while hampered by the walking boot. Somehow, despite everything that dictated I hide from the dangers associated with a high number, I had found myself permanently tangled with Mathias. Especially now that his own heritage was surfacing to haunt him. But, that was why we were in Bulgaria . . . to save him.

  I dodged around another group of travelers, all of them 4s, and found Mathias standing next to a white rounded column. His blue-green eyes settled on me, making my breath catch, but he didn’t say a word when I finally reached him. I hid my concern. The silences had been growing since we fled the UK two weeks ago and with them the coldness threatening to turn Mathias into the deadliest weapon unleashed on the paranormal community since the ancient 10s like Achilles and Hannibal of Carthage.

  Reaching him, I slipped my hand into his. I wasn’t even close to hoping that I could physically pull Mathias away from a brewing conflict, but maybe it would deter the coldness a little. Besides, we were supposed to be a married couple. All of our aliases had been married couples. Mathias’ hand closed around mine in a firm grip.

  As we walked out of the terminal to find that winter wasn’t quite ready to release its hold, no matter the calendar dates. The sun was shining, but snow covered the ground wherever there were shadows. And, the breeze carried a cold bite. I reached up to tug my knit hat down further, covering my ears. Mathias had insisted I switch from my shawls to a proper knit hat when we first landed in Geneva two weeks ago, claiming I had been shivering too much. I suspected it was because he was trying to change our appearance as much as he could without taking away my own ability to blend in with the populace. My Turkish heritage meant that I had been blessed with dark hair and eyes as well as an olive-toned complexion that allowed me to blend in among most of the Eastern European, Middle Eastern, and Mediterranean countries. So far, the only thing really making me stick out in Bulgaria was the fact that many of the women were actually taller than me by at least a couple of inches. And, that didn’t take into account their heels.

  A burly man suddenly lurched into our path, and my hold on Mathias’ hand tightened as the man began gesturing wildly as he spoke in rapid fire Bulgarian. I frantically glanced up to check his number. A 4. My pounding heart started to slow a little as I realized he wasn’t a true threat at that moment.

  Mathias nodded his head as he pulled me around the man, then he rattled off something
in Bulgarian.

  The man waved his arms more, his words coming faster. Then another man, this one older with white-grey hair and a sharp smile, approached. He was also gesturing and chattering away in his native tongue. I didn’t know what kind of paranormal he was but, judging by the sharpness of his teeth and the 6 glowing over his head, he was definitely not a norm and he was most definitely not someone I wanted to spend any time with if I could help it. He reached for my free arm still chattering in Bulgarian.

  Mathias suddenly wrapped his arm around me and was no longer looking at the men or the others approaching us, all gesticulating and shouting over each other in hopes of being heard. He still nodded, and I almost protested the gesture before I remembered vaguely that nods meant ‘no’ and shaking your head meant ‘yes’ in Bulgaria and a few other Balkan countries. Realizing the 6 was still eying us, speaking rapidly, I turned my face into Mathias’ coat as I pressed a little harder against his side. I hadn’t seen my picture plastered across the paranormal news outlets recently, but I didn’t want to risk it.

  Finally, we left the shouting taxicab drivers behind in favor of approaching a bus station. Mathias’ grip on me loosened and then he stepped away. I felt his absence a little too keenly. I glanced back at the drivers who had turned their attention to other travelers leaving the airport. The 6 was still there, which I hoped was a good thing. I wrapped my arms around my middle and glanced up at Mathias. He was looking straight ahead seemingly unperturbed by the encounter. Also, a good thing.

  I glanced around. “I’m surprised you aren’t insisting on going by train.”

  “Not in Bulgaria.” Mathias glanced down at me and a hint of amusement entered his voice, lightening it and drawing attention to his delicious accent. “Don’t worry, Hope, I won’t let the taxicabs steal you just to make us ride with them.”

  A little smile curved my lips in response. It had been four days since the last time he even attempted to joke around with me. Breathing a laugh, I rolled my eyes. “They were very, umm, enthusiastic, weren’t they?” Looking around, I hesitated and then lowered my voice as I asked, “Where exactly are we going, though? Bulgaria was formed out of Thrace, right?”

  The amusement fled from Mathias’ expression and even the sound of his British accent wasn’t enough to distract me from this concerning change as he responded, “Yes. We’re on the edge of Northern Thrace now though few seem to remember that Sofia was once called Serdica.”

  When he fell silent, I gently prodded, “But the Trials don’t begin here?”

  Mathias’ jaw muscles tightened suddenly and his voice turned chilly as he said, “No. They don’t start here. They start when we reach Eumolpias.”

  “Eumolpias?” I echoed, but Mathias didn’t answer. I would have tried to press a little further if only to reassure myself that he hadn’t lost himself, but other travelers joined us. Then, the bus pulled up. Listening to a French speaking couple, I learned it was going to take us to the Central Bus Station, which definitely didn’t sound like Eumolpias.

  I kept puzzling over our pronounced destination as we rode the bus. I didn’t recognize the name even though it had to be a Thracian city. But, I hadn’t known about Serdica either. I hadn’t really spent a lot of time studying the Thracians . . . they were too closely tied to Greece for my taste. Even being this close to Greece made me nervous. Greece was the birthplace of many paranormals, the dangerous ones who wrought terror through myth and legend. Eastern Europe was close behind them as the homeland for many a dangerous paranormal. The only reason I was even here was because it was the only way to help Mathias.

  We got off the bus in front of a round tower that was apparently a hotel and waited for another bus. I shivered as the wind picked up and the temperature seemed to go down as the sun moved behind the clouds. Mathias didn’t seem to notice anything to do with the weather. Which is why it came as such a shock when he suddenly broke the silence. “Weard’s attempt to flush you out by way of the news has been forced to an early end.”

  I almost wrenched my neck to look at him. “What?”

  When Mathias didn’t respond right away or even look at me, I was almost tempted to shake him. Weard Enterprises had nearly run us to ground when we were travelling to a hideaway in Scotland by releasing press statements all directed at labeling me a ‘rogue Spotter’ and offering a reward for information they could feed their hunters. I hadn’t been keeping up with the paranormal news since we left Scotland, so I wanted to know if there was a change.

  Blowing out a slow breath, I tugged on my coat sleeves. “Mathias? I would greatly appreciate an answer this time.” When he still didn’t respond, I ignored the little voice cautioning against prodding a high number and leaned against his arm. “Mathias, please tell me what you know.”

  Suddenly, a cool gaze was studying me with a hint of bewilderment. Blue-green eyes currently more of a pale blue, then the chill in them faded as he reached up to touch my hair where it brushed across the top of my shoulder. “Lauren.”

  “Mathias,” I drew his name out slowly, fresh worry coursing through me. “Were you not with me when you said the news isn’t focused on me anymore?”

  “News,” he repeated more to himself than to me. He looked away from me for a moment, then his gaze was steady and reserved when he turned back. The corner of his mouth turned up in a crooked half smile. “I thought you knew.”

  I shook my head.

  “The news among the paranormal community is preoccupied with the potential fallout of a minotaur getting drunk, and then going on a rampage through the Las Vegas strip. It appears he took great exception to the Luxor before going down to the Venetian and falling off the Rialto Bridge, all while roaring in Greek his challenge to the Egyptian and Roman pantheons.”

  A laugh escaped me before I clamped a hand over my mouth. “Who is handling that? Halliman’s?”

  “It seems so, but the incident has cost Halliman’s a great deal of embarrassment. Carith and Krall are jockeying to spin it to their advantage. Dragons love a chance to expand their treasures, which includes their billion-dollar PR empire.”

  I winced in sympathy for my former coworkers. Poor Mr. Halliman had no doubt been in a tizzy when he found out about this incident. Minotaurs weren’t exactly counted among the ambassadorial species after all. Although, they lived on in mythology and legends among the norms. “Are they talking about potential exposure fallout?”

  “The opinion seems to be blame it on being Las Vegas.” Mathias paused and then nodded to an approaching bus. “Come on, that’s the one we need.”

  “What’s it say?”

  “Plovdiv.”

  I almost protested that Plovdiv wasn’t Eumolpias, but perhaps that was the norm name for the city. When we got on the bus, I almost walked back out when faced with a bus full of 5s and 6s. But Mathias was pressed behind me keeping me from retreating the way habit and instinct screamed I should. I took a slow breath as we made our way back to the few empty seats left on the bus. We were in Eastern Europe and part of being smack in the center of ancient paranormal homelands was non-ambassadorial paranormals walked far more openly among norm cities. And, they almost always have higher numbers than the average unarmed and untrained norm by simple virtue of being born to a paranormal species. If I didn’t relax, they would figure out that I was a Spotter.

  Pulling out a map of the paranormal settlements and cities in Bulgaria, I tried to keep my mind occupied by searching for Eumolpias. Plovdiv was there and then other paranormal settlements like Perperikon and Seuthopolis, but no Eumolpias. I glanced at Mathias but he had closed his eyes, seemingly asleep. He looked too tense to truly be asleep, though. I folded up the map and shoved it back into my coat pocket, and then I threaded my arm through his and rested my head against his shoulder. Mathias stiffened for half a breath, then he relaxed.

  Mindful of any watching eyes, I let mine shut but sleep didn’t come. My brain was too busy racing with the potential meaning of Mathias’ behavior. Whe
n we were in Scotland, I found out that Mathias was a Myrmidon, a species associated with so much infamy that they had been hunted down in a purge carried out by the rest of the paranormal community. Mathias shouldn’t have even existed, and being a Myrmidon would easily see him killed if the wrong people found out. However, it was his own heritage I was trying to save him from . . . A terrible cold rage that meted out justice without hope of mercy now threatened to consume Mathias and eventually it would kill him, but not before he was driven on a rampage that could potentially kill hundreds of innocents. The only way to save him was to complete the Trials of Achilles.

  A low sigh escaped me as I pressed my cheek a little more firmly against Mathias’ shoulder. Even the Trials were a point of contention between us because Mathias didn’t want me to risk my life for his. But, I wasn’t about to stand by and watch him walk away to die alone and in one of the worst ways I could imagine. Even if it meant I had to sit on a bus filled with uncomfortably high numbers. Or go to Greece.

  The ride didn’t take as long as I had feared it would since we entered Plovdiv less than two hours after leaving Sofia. But it was still a ride I would prefer not to repeat, if only because being stuck with high numbers grated on my nerves. Mathias waited until the bus had mostly emptied before he prompted me to get out of the seat and start moving. I caught a glimpse of a sea of red tile roofs with the snow covered mountains beyond. However, it was warmer here already in comparison to Sofia. Something for which I was very grateful. I ducked into one of the available washrooms long enough to pull off my knit cap and brush my hair before snagging a dark green shawl from my bag and using it to cover most of my hair.

  Mathias said nothing when I rejoined him and then he pulled me toward a different bus, this one built more like a shuttle and carrying a group of 6s. I didn’t know what their species was, but I didn’t really want to join them. I slowed my pace as much as I could without stopping still. Glancing around, I decided to risk a whispered question, “Are you sure that’s the bus to take us to Eumolpias?”