Perfect Misfits Page 10

  Fear seeped into Ryder’s soul. He needed to find out more. She couldn’t die…not yet. Quickly, he conjured a glass of water and handed it to her.

  She smiled weakly, but clearly fought for air. “Do you know what she is? Or maybe I should say who she is? Think about it for a minute.”

  “Damn it, woman, just tell me! Stop playing games.”

  “I can’t make it that easy.” She breathed heavily, but continued. “I will only tell you this. Find those who assisted with your entry onto the mountain.” She sank to the ground and crawled her way to the blanket.

  “I need more information, Astral!” he yelled.

  Her breathing came in shallow gulps. “Some things are linked, and remember in order to remove hobbles from a prisoner, you have to find the keys to open the lock. You two are linked, but you must find the keys.”

  Her eyes closed.

  “Fuck!” He spun on his heels and exited the way he’d entered, not caring whether she lived or died.

  How am I going to figure out what she meant?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tempest sat in the sun, running her hand over Rogue’s cold stone body. A slight smile formed on her face as she realized how much tougher she seemed when Ryder was gone. Perhaps it was her way of trying to defend herself. If he never came back, she’d have to survive on her own…again. Her smile faded, so she forced the unpleasant thought away.

  Focus on the happy thoughts. Rogue was happy.

  The black pants and shirt she wore attracted the warmth of the sun. She would never grow tired of feeling warm, after all the time spent in the bitter cold.

  A tiny movement—what she thought felt like a shiver—halted her hand on Rogue’s back. Sure enough, the faint quiver vibrated through the stone and into her fingers.

  Could it be?

  “Rogue, can you hear me?”

  As the quiver became a visible tremor, she pulled her hand away and stood back. A large crack formed along the gargdog’s spine. Her mouth fell open as the fracture moved up along the edges of his tiny wings and down the length of his legs as a chunk of the stone fell from his back, shattering turning to dust as it hit the ground, his grey-and-tan-colored spots showing through.

  Unable to hide her excitement, she jumped up and down, clasping her hands over her mouth in awe. Her best friend was coming back.

  Piece by piece, the granite fell away until Rogue stood on all fours.

  Unable to control her joy, she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I was so worried, Rogue. I’m so happy you’re back,” she exclaimed, wiping a tear from her cheek with her forearm.

  He said nothing, causing a sickening feeling to well up inside her, but continued to stand straight, staring into the woods. Cautiously, she removed her arms from around his neck and bent down to look into his eyes.

  “Rogue, it’s me. Are you okay?”

  He continued to stare ahead, as though in a trance.

  “Say something,” she pleaded, knowing something didn’t seem right.

  Without any warning, Rogue took off, running at full speed through the forest.

  “Rogue, stop!”

  Not even looking back, he continued to dash forward.

  She panicked. Her stomached knotted with fear for him. He didn’t know how to take care of himself, and something was certainly wrong. The safety of the cabin stood to her right, but her beloved companion had gone in the other direction. Without another moment of hesitation, she darted off after him.

  The dense, wooded forest slowed her progress, and soon she realized the sunlight had disappeared. “Rogue where are you?” There was no point in yelling. She had no idea where he’d gone, and she was lost, as well.

  “What a fine mess I’ve gotten myself into.” Speaking out loud helped hide her growing fear. The snap of a branch sent her spinning in all directions. She held her breath. Her heart felt as though it was going to explode out of her chest.

  Scanning in all directions, she noticed a small tree, which was bent over. She ran in that direction, hoping Rogue had going that way. Dodging this way and that, her feet propelled her forward. The whole time, she looked for anything suggesting Rogue may have been going this way.

  Off to her left, she saw a blur bolt ahead and halted, her chest heaving from the exertion.

  What was that?

  She no longer knew in which direction she ran. Finding her way back would be impossible, and nightfall was almost upon her. Again, she heard the crackle of branches.

  What am I going to do?

  To wander around in the dark didn’t seem like the best idea.

  Rogue, why did you run away?

  A high-pitched cry followed by a laugh set her pulse racing again. She ran toward the sound. Only Rogue cried like that. “Rogue,” she yelled. “I’m here. Where are you?”

  The snide laughter echoed all around her. Fear turned to anger. “Who are you? Show yourself, you coward!”

  Silence ensued until an odd creature with extremely long legs flew over her head. She threw her arms over her head, sheltering herself. “I’m not scared!”

  Again, a whine came.

  She proceeded forward. “I want Rogue back now!”

  When a voice answered, Tempest lost her footing and tripped over a fallen tree. Face-first, she landed in the thick underbrush. The breath had been knocked from her lungs. She blinked, and focused on what she could see—extra-long, dirty grotesque toes with warts and long hairs covering each digit.

  “Ouch,” she gasped, placing a hand on her head and quickly looking up at the being.

  “Spitter doesn’t like the foul Rogue—he has no hair. But you have long ones.” He reached over, snatching at her hair again where some had fallen out of the braid.

  She swatted at him, pushing herself to her knees. “Stop that!”

  He pulled his hand away and stuffed it into his mouth. “Ummm, tastes good.”

  The being wasn’t very tall. He had a long beard hanging to the ground, sparse hair on his head, and a large bulbous red nose. He tried again to grab for her hair, but this time, she reached out and grabbed his beard.

  He yelped and pulled back away from her. “See? It doesn’t feel very good, does it, Spitter? I’m guessing that’s your name.”

  His eyes squinted “You didn’t have to do that.”

  She felt a momentary pang of guilt. “Where’s Rogue?”

  With amazing agility, he jumped from his spot, landing on a large branch in a nearby tree. “Rogue, smogue. You will come with Spitter.”

  Tempest stood, wiping her hands on her pants. “I won’t go anywhere with you.”

  “Oh, yes, you will.” He laughed and sang, jumping down to frolic around her in circles. “I have what you want. I have what you want.”

  She could barely make him out in the darkness, and her patience wore thin. “Stop playing games,” she commanded.

  Sure enough, he stopped. Then, to her surprise, stuck out his tongue at her. “You’re not the boss of me.”

  “Oh, for goodness sake. Just get out of my way, would you?”

  He placed his dirty, wart-knotted hand on his waist and leaned forward. “If you ever wish to see your Rogue again, you will come with me.”

  She knew he meant it. His wicked grin told her so.

  “You are a mean, spiteful creature,” she hissed. “Take me to Rogue this instant.

  With a giddy laugh, he bowed in front of her, allowing her to proceed ahead of him. “Just follow the path.”

  “What path? I can’t see a thing.”

  “Geesh, you’re a picky pixie. Here—I’ll lead the way.” he marched off ahead of her.

  “I’m not a pixie,” she replied, following in his steps.

  “Yup. You sure are,” Spitter replied smugly.

  Tempest shook her head, disgusted with the little troll. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “Spitter knows all about you. You are Tempest.”

  Like spiders crawli
ng up her spine. The thought gave her the creeps. How could he know who she was?

  Peering over his head, she could see a glimmer of light up ahead.

  “Are we going there?”

  “Yes, we will rest there for the evening,” he replied.

  The closer they got. The faster her feet went; she could make out Rogue’s form sitting silently in the florescent light. Excited, she broke into a run, pushing the troll out of the way sprinting for Rogue. Skidding to a halt, she fell to her knees in front of him, throwing her arms about him.

  “Rogue, I’m so glad you’re okay,” she cried in a whisper. When no reply came, the tears fell. Pushing herself away from him, she stared into his eyes. They were transfixed—emotionless and static.

  She spun around and yelled at the troll. “What did you do to him?”

  He held his arms out to his sides. “Does it look like Spitter has magic? I’m not lucky.”

  She clenched her fists in anger. “Who did this to him?” The words tumbled from her mouth, but she knew. Cold fear snaked through her body.

  “Fedor has done this, hasn’t he?”

  The troll’s head fell forward. Instantly, she felt sympathy for him. He was a pawn, just like all of them were.

  “Vicasha and Fedor will not kill Rogue as long as you obey,” Spitter answered.

  It would never end. Fedor would never rest until he had her as his bride. Perhaps they should have gone over the ledge, after all. It all seemed impossibly hopeless, and Ryder was gone. Fedor knew she loved Rogue.

  “Did he use the word ‘kill’ specifically?”

  He nodded. “Vicasha gave me my instructions.”

  Her heart sank. She hadn’t contemplated the idea of Fedor killing Rogue to get at her. She couldn’t let that happen. Rogue would die for her, and it was her duty to ensure she protected him, too.

  “I will not run,” she replied, numb.

  “I liked it better when I was teasing you,” Spitter grumbled.

  “Do you know what is wrong with Rogue?”

  “A spell, for sure. One that keeps him under control and lures him to our home.”

  “Will the spell come off? And where is this home?” She shivered. She noticed he spied her hair, and could see from the look on his face he contemplated snatching at it. “Don’t even think of it,” she reminded him.

  “Spitter knows nothing about spells. Our home is not far. We will go there in the morning.”

  Resigning herself to the fact she would not be able to escape, she curled up beside Rogue’s body, hugging his legs. The gargdog never moved. A stick lay nearby, which she quickly grabbed and clutched tightly.

  “Don’t think for a second I won’t whack you really hard with this stick, Spitter. I have years of experience. Just leave us alone.”

  She heard him settle down with a humph and spied him curling up under a tree. Thoughts of the previous night wrapped in Ryder’s arms put a smile back on her face as she drifted off to sleep.

  · · · · ·

  Ryder strode through the multicolored beams of light and entered the Transportbar. The world of Levare had become host to many beings, and the Transportbar was their port of exit and entry. It was also the establishment where one would come to get a drink, a wanton female of any species, and much-needed information.

  A few stools remained empty up at the bar. He headed toward a purveyor of the latter and sat down.

  The Chingran beside him turned slightly his way, grunted, and downed his drink. Ugly creatures they were, with large, bulbous grey heads, drooling mouths, and large tentacles hosting eyes.

  Ryder looked the other way, trying to remember whether he’d been in a brawl with this particular Chingran.

  The Levarian bartender brought him a drink. Ryder’s thoughts drifted to Tempest, wondering what she would be doing and hoping she’d be okay. There was a large part of him that wanted to rest on his home turret, hoping he would dream of her in order to see if she was safe. It would have to wait until Ashton arrived.

  The feeling of a hand on his shoulder sent him spinning about to come face-to-face with a tall brunette. He grabbed her by the wrist, holding her still. A large smile formed on her white face. “Where have you been, Ryder? The girls and I have missed you,” she purred, running her free hand lightly over his bare arm.

  On the inside, he shivered and balked at her touch. He grabbed her other roaming hand.

  “Oooh, you know I like it when you’re forceful.”

  He recoiled from her as if he’d been burnt.

  What the hell is that all about?

  “Aww, poor baby. You’ve had a bad day, haven’t you?” She moved up against him, lifting her leg so her inner thigh rubbed up against his. “Onna will make you feel better, I guarantee it.”

  His heart beat a frantic tempo, and to his surprise, it had nothing to do with his libido. He just wanted to get away from her. Pushing her away, he ignored her pout. “Not tonight, Onna.”

  Or any night.

  The woman blinked in surprise. He understood why. He didn’t recall ever pushing her away…or any female, for that matter. Onna stepped away from him with a scowl on her face. “What’s wrong with you, Ryder? Since when have you ever said no to me?”

  “Well, I’m saying it now. I don’t need your company tonight,” he said with a cold, expressionless tone.

  She crossed her arms, glaring at him. “Who is she, Ryder? I hope she keeps you happy.” Spinning away from him, she marched out the door.

  “Interesting comment,” Ashton said, leaning on the side of the bar. “I’ve never known you to say no.”

  Ryder took another drink. “My personal life isn’t your concern.”

  Ashton shrugged his shoulders. “So, are you going to tell me who she is and what happened to you?”

  Ryder smirked, contemplating the answer he knew would throw his friend for a loop. “Well, let’s see. I fell from my turret, and I did hit the ground. Broke every bone in my body, then got picked up by the pixies, carried into the sky, and dumped into a mountain range colder than you could possibly imagine.”

  Ashton laughed, slamming his fist on the counter. “That’s hilarious, boss! But really, can’t you tell me what happened?”

  The look on his face must have told Ashton he wasn’t lying. “You are kidding, aren’t you?”

  “Nope. It’s all true.”

  Ashton blinked slowly, his eyes wide in shocked belief. “Where is this place?”

  “Far away and cleverly disguised.”

  “What else? Come on, you have to tell me what happened,” he pleaded.

  Ryder rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension away. “It’s known as Misfit Mountain. Run by a slim ball named Fedor and his mistress Vicasha,” he shook his head in disgust. He didn’t even believe his own words. “Astral helped them.”

  Ashton pulled up a stool continuing to gawk. “She helped them do what?”

  “Get rid of the ones not wanted—the beings from Levare considered not appropriate.” He clenched his fist as the anger welled up inside of him.

  “But how? Who? Where are they kept?”

  “They are all on this hellish mountain, and I have to figure out how to free them.”

  “How many are there?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Lots. But I’m only concerned with Tempest.”

  A brawl broke out off in the far right corner of the establishment. Tables toppled and glass shattered. Ashton stood, prepared to do his duty.

  Ryder placed a hand on his arm. “No need.” The puzzled look on his comrade’s face told him he didn’t know what Silbaps were. “Just watch.”

  Silbaps were unusual creatures with flat, black heads that wobbled back and forth. It was their heads that they used to clobber each other with, swaying with their elongated bodies to slap each other.

  “Shouldn’t we do something boss?”

  Ryder started counting backwards from ten. “Three, two, one...”

  The Silba
ps halted their actions and began to spin in circles uncontrollably while losing size. In a few seconds, they couldn’t be seen from where Ryder and Ashton sat. Other patrons stared down to the floor and went about their business.

  “What happened to them?”

  “They’ll be slithering along the floor right about now, trying not to get stepped on.”

  “Okay, back to the real story. Who’s Tempest? Is that the woman?”

  “She is the one I dreamt of. I thought I was losing my mind, but not so; she does exist.” He smiled to himself, remembering how brazen she’d been.

  “Why is she on this mountain? Surely, she couldn’t be a misfit, as you call them.”

  “Trust me, she’s anything but a misfit. I don’t know why she’s there, but I have to find out.”

  “Why didn’t you bring her back with you?”

  “Yeah, I tried that. Almost killed her in the process.”

  “Ryder, none of this makes sense. You’re not making sense.”

  “Astral said we are linked somehow. I have to find the keys and go speak with the pixies.”

  Ashton reached over and grabbed the drink out of his hand and poured it down. “I think you’re fucked-up, Ryder. This is all fucked-up. What do you want from me?”

  Ryder pushed himself up and away from the stool, with Ashton following suit. “We have to visit the pixies.”

  Violently shaking his head, Ashton crossed his arms over his chest. “No way.”

  “Don’t be a baby.” Ryder strode through the crowd toward the door.

  “Regular people do not just visit the pixies. Hell, we’ll come back out looking like those Silbaps.”

  “I don’t think so, Ashton. For some reason, they wanted me to save Tempest, and I have to find out why. We’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

  “Do I have a choice?” Ashton grumbled.

  “Nope.” Ryder continued out the door, hoping to see if he could get a glimpse of Tempest from home.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Tempest awoke to find Spitter staring down at her with an outstretched hand just about touching her cheek.