Hiding in Plain Sight

Part 1: The Discovery

Another long day in the saddle chasing more shadows,

Tegan thought to herself.

Dismounting with a swing of a well muscled leg over her dappled horse, she surveyed the building in front of her. The 'Inn of the Bounding Doe' was nestled at the end of the mountain town, just before woods that stretched away into the jagged snow capped peaks. Sighing, she quickly rolled the damp sleeves of her shirt down, covering lines of small dark red runes. The slashed markings encircled both her forearms from elbow to wrist, and were the whole reason Tegan was at this edge of the kingdom at all.

Some would have called them an advantage in a world where myths and monsters were, at least historically, all too real. Each rune was attuned to a known creature and spelled to alert the bearer to the creatures presence, but in her experience as a commissioned certifier people were a little too eager to spin a tale about 'monsters' when they saw the runes. Once, not terribly long ago, you could make quite a pocket of coin off selling information to a certifier, who in turn sold that information to the monster hunting houses, but no longer. Certifiers and monster hunters both had been too efficient at their crafts, and now 'monsters' usually turned out to be tall tales or just particularly vile humans, using the guise of unnatural terror to hide their own vile deeds.

The decline in real monsters hadn't stopped people from trying to make a buck off a story though, and Tegan couldn't really blame them. It was always nice to stock some funds away for the lean times, especially out in the hinterlands. The fact remained that the only time the runes had actually done any good was when she was out in the wildest lands, and as far as she was concerned if someone was foolish enough to go striking out into territory that remote, they maybe deserved what came for them in the night. Still, the job paid and the crown had appearances to keep up, protecting the populace it ruled and all that, so here Tegan was.

Reaching up she undid the leather strip she had used to bind up her amber hair while riding, the sun lightened strands falling to just below her shoulders. She'd been tempted to cut the whole of it off as summer came on, but for now she would leave it be. Shading her chestnut brown eyes against the glare of the setting sun she passed off the reins of her horse to the stableboy, hefting her travel bag over her shoulder with the other, before pushing open the door to the inn.

"Be right with you traveler," a cheerful voice from across the room called as Tegan crossed to the bar and leaned against the wood, dropping her bag by her feet with a thump. She saw the owner of the voice, a tall and lithe red-headed woman, who was coming across the room with many ale mugs clutched in the long fingers of her hands. Hands that were surprisingly stained the deep purple of a bruise.

Tegan took in the color with a critical eye, mind flying through a catalog of reasons it might be present. She discarded a number of lesser known spells, late summer being the wrong season for those, as well as creatures that would never be found in the wooded foothills of this part of the country. She glanced to the side and saw that another of the inns guests had stained hands, this time a cobalt color. Tegan looked around the full room and saw that in fact many people's hands were stained. Every so often a colored, maybe red or bright yellow, would be wrapped around an ale mug. There didn't seem to be a pattern to who was stained and who was not, puzzling her.

Having deftly woven her way through the tavern room, avoiding legs and gesticulating arms, the redhead was about to round the bar when the side door directly in front of her swung open, startling her. It would have been a simple matter to recover, had an older man playing some kind of chance game at the end of the bar not jumped up with joy in apparent victory, knocking her further off balance. Mugs went flying as she fell, the commotion getting the attention of the bar. All but Tegan, whose attention was drawn to the man emerging from behind the door.

Tall as the door itself, he carried a cask of fresh ale on a well muscled shoulder, encircled by an equally meaty arm. Dark hair that was shorn close to his skull along the neck and sides, before becoming a thick wave at the crown. Handsome by anyone's standards, green-grey eyes looked out from under strong brows, the stubble of a few days beard only enhancing the stark line of his jaw.

However, it wasn't the fact that the leather ties of his apron were cutting a fine figure of his torso that drew Tegans attention. It was the fact that, in the space of the woman falling, the man had two of the falling mugs appear in what had been an empty hand. They had seemingly come from nowhere and only Tegans training had allowed her to catch the inhuman speed at which he'd caught them, not even having to blink his laugh-lined eyes in the effort.

"Emron Flint!" seethed the redhead from the floor, skirt damp and mugs broken around her, "You always show up at the worst possible moment!"

The man set the mugs in his hand down on the bar and stooped to help her up, thigh muscles straining his heavy canvas pants, the cask on his shoulder seeming to not impede him at all. After a terse low conversation Tegan couldn't hear, the barmaid brushed past him through the door. Setting the cask down with casual ease, he began gathering the larger mug pieces into his large calloused hands. Suspicion began to creep up Tegna's spine. She rubbed at her forearm absently while she replayed how he had caught the mugs moments before. None of the runes had set off a warning when she entered the room, like they were supposed to, a fact that made her more than a little uneasy. Before Tegan could finish puzzling out what had happened, the redhead flounced back into the room, hair having been tied up in a hasty messy bun and most of the beer wrung out of her skirt.

"Sorry about that miss," she said with false brightness, placing her purple hands onto the bartop near Tegan, who looked down at them in open curiosity.

"Not here for the festival then?" asked the redhead, noticing Tegans stare.

"Uh, no, can't say that I am," Tegan replied, sleek brow twitching.

"Well that's a shame. What can I help you with then?" she asked briskly, her eyes already panning the rest of the room for mugs to refill.

Tegan's eye's traveled over her shoulder and watched as the man went about tapping the cask. He was just a touch on the stout side, she decided, not as starkly muscled as he appeared now that she could see him up close. She also decided that this only made him more appealing, which vaguely surprised her. The village girls probably all felt the same, but if they knew what they were really coveting, Tegan was sure they would be running for the safety of their beds in a trice.

"I'm hoping for lodging, have anything available?" Tegan finally replied, continuing to watch the man fill mugs of ale and line them up on the bar.

"Well, that's going to be tricky, since most beds are taken by others coming in for the big bash and all," the barmaid said, suppressing a grin at how intently this sun bronzed woman in front of her was ogling her boss.

"Emron," she said over her shoulder, "The Sulkans reserved for the week but we got that message this morning that they were going to be delayed. What say we make double on the room they reserved?"

Emron turned to them, blinking uncertainly when accosted by Tegan's stare, who didn't flinch one bit at being caught staring. He slanted his head to the side, thinking.

"A fine notion, Caty," he said finally, voice like a distant thunder rumble that went straight to Tegan's core.

The redhead, Caty, gave her a fair price and Tegan felt the man's eyes watch her as she fished a money bag from the pocket of her tight travel vest. She continued to feel his gaze as she counted out the coins to Caty, and as Caty recounted them before slipping them into an apron pocket.

"When is the festival?" Tegan asked, gathering up her bag from the floor, still ignoring Ermon's stare. Fair was fair after all. Caty gestured for Tegan to follow her as she came out from behind the bar and headed toward the steps to the second floor.

"Three days from now," said the man. There was an edge of unintentional growl in the voice and Tegan was surprised at the slip up. She nodded, and watched him from the corner of her eye as she followed Caty up the stairs. She felt his eyes on her, like low burning coals, until she passed around the corner of the second floor balcony.

"There's stew ready now if you're hungry," said Caty, letting her into a mostly bare room with the exception of a large pallet bed, table, and single chair, "though if I were you I'd wait an hour for when Emrons bread will be done. Best in the mountains, I promise you that!"

When Tegan didn't respond, dropping her bag onto the tabletop instead, Caty blew a stray hair out of her face and shrugged. She shut the door as she left, and Tegan quickly took a pouch of rust colored soot out of her bag. Dipping a finger into the bag, she rapidly smudged a symbol into each corner of the door frame, threshold, and windowsill of the room. Laying out the contents of her bag on the table, she leafed through a battered leather bound book, fingers tapping against the binding as she read. She'd have to do some more investigation tonight to be sure, but if the book was right, the festival was bringing more than just a good time to the townsfolk.

An hour later she was seated against a wall in a corner of the bar room, seemingly absorbed in the stew and bread in front of her like every other road weary traveler. It just also happened to be the perfect vantage point to observe Emron as he moved around the tavern to help Caty. From the chatter around her she had gathered that the upcoming festival was essentially a large game of matchmaking chase between 'hunters' and 'prey'. Traditionally, the prey dyed, wove, or otherwise made a piece of cloth that would be used as a blindfold for their chosen hunter. The hunter would wear the blindfold during the opening rites of the chase, and give the prey time to get a head start. After that, what happened in the woods was no one's business but their own.

Most people seemed to romanticize this gesture of being 'the chosen one', while Tegan personally thought it to be just an especially tidy way to pair off participants while avoiding mistaken identities, confusion, and trouble later. From the excitement that bubbled around the room, it was evidently the event of the season. Tegan had seen two blindfold presentations so far that evening, and noted that there did not seem to be any rules to who paired with who, as long as both parties were willing. Tegan had been watching the easy almost saucy banter between Caty and Emron, and assumed the redhead had already given him a token for the festival.

A feeling of irritation had settled in her stomach when Caty had leaned into Emron for a quick playful hug behind the bar before making her next set of rounds. It felt like a dark eel had wrapped itself up inside her, roiling around slowly and making her mood dark. She tried to brush it off as annoyance at not yet confirming just what Emron was, but the eel coiled tighter with each casual touch Caty laid on his arm or back or waist.

"You sure you can outrun that one?" Tegan asked around a mouthful of bread when Caty came to refresh her ale mug, nodding at the man shaped mass behind the bar. She realized with a start that it was jealousy that made her ask, not annoyance at all.

Caty's eyes flickered over to Emron as she followed Tegan's gesture, before stifling a laugh.

"That one? Miss, no one can outrun that one," the redhead said, "besides, he's not mine to outrun. Gave that up a long time ago, have my eye on someone else this year."

Tegan's eyebrow jerked up of its own accord, more at the fact that the greasy feeling of jealousy had left her in a rush than the statement itself.

"Don't get me wrong, I tried as much as anyone else, but damned if he didn't just seem to step out of the trees like he was something almost wild. Emron though...he's not the matching type we'll say," Caty balled a fist and put it on her hip, clearly thinking Tegan needed further explanation.

"He's just in it for the chase. Didn't do anything to anyone bold enough to ask him but a pat on the shoulder before winding up back here while everyone else was out...enjoying themselves." A waggle of her eyebrows ensured that there was no confusion about what

that

meant.

Tegan swallowed the bread slowly. It was as good as promised, warm and dense with a touch of sweetness, perfect compliment to the salty butter it had come slathered with.

"Also never seemed to matter who it was he chased, if you catch my drift," said Caty before she gave a little shrug and eyebrow raise of her own before walking away. Tegan took a swig of ale, which was also quite good, and lost herself in thought.

She drummed her fingers on the table as she tried to puzzle it together. Emron played his part of 'jolly giant inn keeper, definitely nothing strange about me' well, taking care to make his movements both restrained and casual. His face wearing a smile more often than not, easy laugh booming about the room. She'd caught him glancing her way a few times and watched over the edge of the mug when he leaned over to ask Caty something as she passed, who glanced Tegan's way before answering.

Having satisfied her need for food and immediate curiosities about what the festival business was all about, Tegan gathered the bowl and mug and brought them over to the bar. She'd been angling for Emrons direction anyway, just to make a few more observations, when a reckless impulse leaped up inside her. She

had

to touch him, it screamed, causing her to abruptly thrust the bowl and mug across the bar at him. He reached out on reflex, perfectly normal had Tegan not moved so that her hands touched his when she let the dishes go.

She almost jumped when the dull flash she associated with the runes on her arms flaring warning was a brief roar, so hot her fingers felt singed. From the dark shadow that passed behind Emron's eyes and how very still he became, she knew he had also felt it. They locked eyes for a moment, the air between them strangely charged before Emron cautiously took a step back. When Tegan didn't do anything in response he shook his head, hair flopping about, and moved away down the bar, bowl and mug still engulfed by his hands. Tegan turned on her heel and headed for her room, unsure what the flare had meant but knowing it was nothing good.

Once there she sat on the bed, flustered, gripping the edges with slightly shaking hands. What did it mean? And why had she

enjoyed

it? She pushed back her sleeves to look at the runes, twisting her forearms around to see which one of them had set off the flare. Nothing seemed out of the usual, none of them lightened or irritated like they normally would be when in the presence of something other than human. Her irritation returned, blotting out her confusion, and Tegan went about preparing for her night's work of snooping around. She'd start with the inn, try and find any damning evidence of the unnatural, then she'd have her answer and would at least have a starting point about what to do next, whether it was make a report to the crown or take matters into her own hands.

Hours later, well into the early morning judging by the moonlight outside her window, Tegan crossed to the door and opened it quietly. No sound came up from the bar room below and it seemed like her fellow guests were all safely tucked away in their beds. She crept down the hall to the stairs, pausing to listen for anyone who might be still awake before descending. As she came down she saw someone sprawled across a table, having clearly decided that spending the night in an empty tavern was preferable to having to move.

Tegan crossed to the door Caty and Emron had been coming in and out of all night, assuming there would be some kind of kitchen or storeroom beyond. The room beyond the door was indeed a kitchen like she'd hoped, neat and tidy, a long table with two chairs running along the center, light shining on it from the window on the opposite side of the room. To the side of the window was a door, most likely leading outside. She stepped inside, rolling her sleeves up to her elbows to better see her runes, hand trailing along the counter in case anything set them off. She padded slowly towards the window, other hand running along the smooth table top.

"What are you doing here," growled a voice from the dark behind her. Tegan froze, cursing herself soundly, even while her skin tightened with anticipation at the sound. Of course he would be here waiting, and she'd grown so used to the security the runes provided, warning her about danger, that she'd let herself be hasty. It was clear to her that the question about her presence in the kitchen had everything to do with who she was, not her trespassing.

"I could ask you the same," she said, reaching for her knife as she began to turn, thankful she hadn't been so careless as to come unarmed.

In a moment he had materialized out of the dark before her, one calloused hand wrapping around her own as she grasped her knife hilt, the other clamping down over her mouth. Her other hand came up to tug at his arm, heat from his skin radiating into her own.

"Don't" he all but snarled into her ear.

Tension sizzled in the air, Tegan inhaling the ashy musky scent of him, looking at the fine dark hairs of his muscled chest where his tunic was open. When it was apparent that he was not immediately going to end her life, she released her grip on the knife at her side. Immediately he had both wrists in one meaty hand, the other taking the knife from its sheath at her waist and tossing it across the room with a clatter. Tegan was dimly aware that she should probably be putting up more resistance, but was too focused on the crackling fire that was pulsing out from where his skin met her wrists.

Intoxicating,

she thought, watching with interest as he inspected her arms in the moonlight. She offered no protest, and his grip loosened, warmth continuing to spread up her arms and along her spine. He ran just his fingertips along the lines of markings of each arm in turn. Gooseflesh shivered up Tegan's arms when he reached the flesh on the inside of her elbow, but he was too absorbed in his task to notice.

"What are you doing?" she asked, soft and husky. His eye's glanced to her, flashing luminous green, all grey gone, in the light from the window.

"I'm looking for which one I am," he said, looking her full in the face now, "are there so few of us left that you don't even carry our mark, hunter?"

"I...I don't know. You're the first I've come across," she answered honestly.

He nodded once, and Tegan saw the deep sadness behind his brilliant eyes and pursed lips. The urge to console him was so strong she reached up and laid a hand along his cheek, the soft stubble tickling her palm. Most of the dangerous tension from before had vanished when the knife had been tossed across the room, now a thick and wild heat was building between them, stoked by the contact of their skin.

When his eyes closed and he leaned his head into her palm a reckless possessive thrill seared Tegan to her core. She stepped closer to him, other hand coming up to cup his face, her lean body pressing against him. One of his hands buried itself in the hair at the back of her head while the other encircled her waist, pulling her tighter into him. Mouths questing for each other, his lips felt like a brand as they met hers. Her hands balled into the fabric across his shoulders as her legs lost feeling for a moment. They stumble backwards into the door, Emron cushioning her head with his arm. He held her there with his body, hands roaming freely across her as his tongue parted her lips. Tegan clung to his shoulders as trails of luscious heat followed his hands through her clothing. A hot caress through the leather of her vest on her waist led to her ass being cupped and kneaded. She moaned into his mouth, hips thrusting forward into his. With a grunt he dipped and cupped her ass, lifting her off the ground so that Tegan wrapped her legs around his waist reflexively. She gasped as he pressed himself between her legs, the hard bulge of his cock resting against her. Cursing the amount of clothing still enrobing them, Tegan squirmed in his grasp.