Perfect Misfits (13 page)

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 crawling 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 Silbaps 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.

“Stop!” she yelled, unable to move for fear of actually making contact with him. “Whatever you do, don’t touch me. Please.” She winced turning her head.

He pulled his hand away. “Spitter touched your hair last night.”

She pushed herself up and out of his way. “That’s different. My hair is not my skin.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you. I just wanted to touch your pointed ear.” His head cocked to the side.

“Nobody can touch me except for…” She hesitated, thinking of Ryder. “Except for Rogue. You don’t understand.”

“Oh,” he said. “I think we need to go now.”

Could she stall him? Would it be possible? Give Ryder more time to get back to find them. But how would he find them? Sitting up tall, she pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. It would be worth a try, she decided.

“Tell me about you, Spitter. I’m guessing you’re a misfit, as well.”

His small shoulders slumped. “I suppose I am.”

“Are there many like you?” she asked with interest.

“Nobody else like Spitter.”

“You mean there are no other trolls where you’re from?”

On his haunches, he sat resting his pointed chin in his grubby hands. “Yes, there are other trolls, but no other Spitters.”

She laughed, hoping to show her genuine interest. Curiosity did cause her to want to know more. “I agree. I think you are one of a kind.”

“I eat hair. I really like the sneers’ hair. I’m different. I only eat hair, not meat.”

“Really?” She frowned. “That doesn’t sound very appetizing.”

“Your hair is very good, too, but not as good as the Sneers.”

Tempest wrapped her locks around her body.

“You have lots of hair. Can you share some with me? I am hungry,” he asked hopefully.

Maybe that would give her more time, or perhaps stall their trip. She’d try talking more first.

“What’s your home like?”

“It’s like this,” he answered sweeping his arm out to the side.

“Well, I can tell you it’s a whole lot better than snow and ice.”

“I’ve only seen the snow and ice from the entrance when Fedor comes.” Immediately, his hand flew over his mouth. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that.”

Gently, she reached over to touch Rogues body, which hadn’t moved an inch since last night. “I don’t think it matters. I would never do anything to put Rogue in jeopardy.”

Spitter smiled and rubbed his hands together in glee. “I hope so.”

Her smile faded with a disapproving glare. “It’s not nice to be happy about other beings’ unfortunate circumstances,” she scolded.

For a moment, he looked affected. “Yes, but when I deliver you home, I can have some sneer hair. Cash will be very angry with me when I pull it from him.”