Perfect Misfits

by Mackie, Lawna

  “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.”

  Poor Cash. She knew exactly who he was—Fedor’s lead in command. Tempest knew he had no desire to do the demonic man’s bidding, but what was one to do? She understood. Do it and live, or don’t and die. She didn’t blame the sneers. They did what they had to in order to survive, probably similar to what Spitter was doing right now.

  “We should get going,” the troll said.

  “If I give you some of my hair, will you tell me a bit more about your home?”

  His eyes went as large as the sun, and he licked his lips. “You’re lying,” he accused.

  She lifted her shoulders. “Why would I lie? Look—I have a lot of hair,” she encouraged, running her fingers through the escaped pieces.

  “What else do you want to know?”

  “Well, for starters, who is your keeper? I know it’s not Fedor.”

  “Vicasha,” he spewed with bitterness.

  “What’s she like?”

  “She’s a witch. Sometimes, she’s beautiful, but not for long. Eventually, she turns ugly. She’s very mean. Fedor visits her and they…well, they…you know what they do.” He turned his head awkwardly away.

  The visions in her head told her what they’d done, and exactly how Vicasha looked. “What does Vicasha like to do?”

  “She orders us around and stares all day at the stupid blood-sucker tree.” That piqued her interest, but he rambled on with a question of his own. “Why can’t I touch your ear?”

  Out of instinct, her hand flew up to her ear. “I get really sick when I’m touched.”

  “I bet Fedor has touched you.” He grinned.

  She closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to bury the memory. Nodding her head, she spoke. “I believe I will die if he touches me ever again.”

  “I think you’re fibbing to Spitter.”

  “I wish I were,” she answered honestly. It worked to her advantage because she could see how he contemplated what she said. “You mentioned the blood-sucking tree. What is that?”

  “It’s well-guarded.”

  “A tree? How come this tree is so special?”

  “It’s not the tree, but what’s inside the tree,” he stood. “Okay, can I eat now? I’m really hungry.”

  A bargain was a bargain. “Okay, just one more question. What’s inside the tree?” She waited, dying to know the answer.

  “I don’t know. Nobody does but her and Fedor.

  “Shoot!” The disappointment on her face would be too much to hide.

  He jumped in front of her, handing her a jagged piece of metal. “You can cut some with this?”

  “Just set it there, if you don’t mind.” She pointed to a spot on the ground, and he did as she asked.

  Great—a dull blade.

  Picking the knife up, she sawed back and forth on a chunk of her hair. “Ouch.” In her fingers she held a handful.

  Spitter licked his lips. “Yummy.”

  Sadly, she set the hunk on the ground. He flew at it, snatching it up and stuffing it in his mouth.

  She grimaced. “That’s really gross, Spitter.”

  He smacked his lips, continuing to poke all the strands in. With a final swallow, he rubbed his tummy. “I think you guys are super gross when you eat meat. Yuck.”

  Perhaps he had a point. She looked up at the sky.

  Where is he?

  She closed her eyes, wishing Ryder would appear. It was true. If Fedor touched her again, she believed death would be immanent.

  “Is Tempest ready to go?”

  “Well, I guess I don’t have a choice, do I?” she responded with bitterness.

  He shook his head slowly. “We don’t have a choice.”

  Every word he said rang true. He was right. They didn’t have a choice. Not her, Spitter, the sneers, none of them. They were all pieces in Fedor’s game.

  Damn, how I hate him.

  “You’re right, Spitter. I know this is not your fault.”

  He nodded sadly. “When I snap my fingers, Rogue will dash away. He’ll lead the way.”

  “Wait.” Bending slightly forward, she placed her hands behind Rogue’s ears and kissed him on the head. “I love you, Rogue.” With a sniffle, she stood. “I’m ready.”

  Spitter snapped his fingers, and Rogue took off down the path. One foot after the other, Tempest made her way toward a hell she’d believed for a little while would never come.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The veil of glimmering silver hung like a blanket from the sky as Ryder and Ashton stood in gargoyle form before the pixie domain. Ryder looked at Ashton, who stood about two feet behind him. “Get up here!”

  Unimpressed, Ashton moved reluctantly to stand beside him. “I don’t know why I had to come here with you. You know the pixies do not like visitors. They don’t even grant access to their realm.”

  “I’m going in, one way or the other,” Ryder assured him, and folded his wings in up against his back.

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t greet them in this state. They are tiny, and our size will only make them seem smaller.”

  “We will remain as we are so they know
we mean business.”

  The sparkling silver faded from extremely bright to a dull shade of grey not unlike what he’d come across upon his exit from the mountain.

  His voice loud and clear, he made his presence known. “We wish to see the king.”

  He knew they’d heard him, but moments of silence passed. A tiny representative who came to about his knees walked through the glimmer as if it didn’t exist. Dressed in complete gold from head to toe, he raised his scepter to poke Ryder in the stomach. “Move back, you beast; I refuse to look up at you.”

  “I told you, Ryder,” Ashton said, moving back.

  Ryder swiped the pixie’s scepter away and took one step back.

  “What do you want?” The pixie looked up with a glare.

  “I guess the rumors were true. You are fickle beings, aren’t you?” Ryder mocked.

  “Once again, I’ll ask you what you want. Make it quick.”

  Ryder bent down so the pixie didn’t have to look up so high. “Tell your king I know about Misfit Mountain, and I wish to speak with him about Tempest.”

  The tiny pixie allowed his mouth to fall open, and his eyes grew gold just like the armor he wore. It was obvious something Ryder had said hit a nerve. He had spun around as though to leave when the glimmering veil of silver opened up and a larger pixie stood just inside.

  “Your highness…” The guard tried to speak, but at the wave of a hand fell silent.

  “Come this way,” he commanded.

  Ryder followed, with Ashton trailing behind.

  The area sparkled and shone like nothing Ryder had ever seen before. Pixies floated through the air in all sizes and colors. He could hear chatter, but couldn’t make out what they were saying. The farther they walked, the larger the pixies became. They all had blonde, almost white hair, just like Tempest. He was absolutely sure.

  Tempest is a pixie.

  He shook his head.

  Great I made love to a pixie. I’ll probably never leave here alive.

  The stories were told often. Pixies were elite, the upper echelon of societies. They didn’t mix with others for any reason because they were the cream of the crop. Everyone knew they were extremely powerful, able to alter time and distort reality. There didn’t seem to be anything they couldn’t manipulate. To Ryder, they were a useless species. What good were they if they chose not to participate in the wellbeing of Levare?

  The king, who was perhaps just a bit taller than Tempest, led them into a large room and sat on a throne.

  Ryder waited for him to speak first.

  “You will not speak of her name again. Do I make myself clear, gargoyle?”

  Anger rolled off Ryder like waves.

  Ashton stepped farther back.

  “I’ll pretend you didn’t mean to say that.” The words spewed from his lips as he tried to hold back his temper.

  The pixie king leaned forward on his throne and said very slowly, “It was exactly what I meant.”

  Ryder stepped forward and bent in toward him. “I will never forget who Tempest is, and you will have to kill me before I allow her to stay on that hellish mountain one more day.”

  “How dare you come in here and undermine me? All of you Levarians are nothing but annoying pests to us pixies.”

  “If I choose to believe you, which I don’t, I’m certain you won’t mind telling me why Tempest is considered a ‘misfit’.”

  The king blinked, and his eyes changed colors—multiple colors.

  “You will leave now. I’ve had enough of your insolence,” he shouted.

  Ryder took a wider stance, crossed his arms, and unfolded his wings. “You can try to remove me, but remember this—I have been on the mountain and managed to leave the mountain. I know my way back, and I will go back. It is only a matter of time before I figure out how to bring her and all of them back here.”

  Throwing his head back, the king laughed. “They will all die if you try to bring them back.”

  “I will find the keys. And when I figure it out—or perhaps even before—all Levarians will know you were a part of the plan. You can’t keep everyone away and out of your realm.”

  At the mention of the keys, the king’s smile faded.

  “How can you know about keys?”

  “I know a lot of things, but in case you hadn’t heard, Astral has passed.”

  The king stood, and began to pace back and forth. “It seems we may be at an impasse.”

  “I only care about removing Tempest before Fedor gets his hands on her.”

  Like a blur, the monarch spun and floated up to be at eye level with him. “What do you mean by that?”

  Ryder knew he’d struck a chord of some sort. “Fedor apparently has a lust interest with Tempest. She tried to escape from him and almost died in the process.”

  “That filthy son of a rat! She was not part of the bargain! He will pay for this.”

  “Once again… Help me, or I’ll figure it out on my own.”

  “You’ll kill her if you remove her from the mountain without the keys.”

  “I tried already once, so I guess something was wrong.”

  The king floated back into his throne. “You fool!” he ground out. “I never meant for her to be hurt.”

  Progress was evident, but Ryder pushed on. “Tempest said she would die if he ever touched her again. I believe her, and we are running out of time.”

  Pounding his fists on the throne, the king caused a flurry of pixies to rally around him. “How dare he touch my daugh…” his voice trailed off.

  Unbelievable. Tempest is his daughter! He did this to his own daughter.

  There was nothing more he wanted to do than strangle the being in front of him, but he held his temper in check, not wanting to jeopardize the progress he’d made. “Time is not on our side, King. I can’t be sure she’ll even be alive when I return.”

  “She was to remain untouched on the Mountain. Fedor will not realize his touch may kill her. We sent her away for that reason. She’s untouchable.”

  Ryder knew better than to tell the king he was wrong, that he’d made love to her. “Your reason for sending her away is despicable.” He couldn’t keep the words from rolling off his tongue.

  There came no response for a few long moments. “I cannot tell you where or what the keys are,” he answered sadly. “I did not believe this day would come.”

  Ryder turned away. “Well, it has come, and if you can’t help me, then I’m wasting my time.”

  “Wait.”

  With hatred, he looked back at the pixie.

  “The keys will be unique to her and only her. They will be found on the Mountain, and I’m guessing Fedor knows where they are.”

  “I’m paying him a visit next,” Ryder announced, striding away, not bothering to look back.

  In a blink of an eye, the king floated in the air before him once again. “You cannot kill Fedor.”

  He stopped, trying to push back the anger. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to him!”

  “If you kill Fedor before you find the keys, they all die. Not just Tempest, but all the misfits on the mountain. Thank Astral for that piece.”

  Ryder stepped around him and continued on his way. He really wanted to kill the bastard—probably not a good idea, considering he was Tempest’s father.

  “If I had one wish, I’d send all of you there so you can see and feel how miserable her life has been. It’s all because of you.

  “Let’s go, Ashton, before I regret not trying to kill him.”

  The tiny gold guard stood where they entered. “Get out, you beasts,” he demanded.

  “You should be disgusted with yourselves. We are.” Ryder walked through the veil.

  Taking to air, they flew across the city and landed on the roof of Ryder’s home.

  His heart pounded; his anger toward the pixie king had not cooled. How could he have done this to his own daughter? It didn’t make sense.

  Every moment he was away from Tempest, he wa
s torn and lonely. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he’d developed feelings for her. The thought of her staying on the mountain in the life she lived crippled him with sadness. She would die if the scumbag Fedor touched her. He’d been away too long, and unfortunately, he didn’t have all the answers he needed.

  “I’ll go with you, Ryder; you might need help.”

  He thought about his friend’s request. “I think you should stay here. It’s dangerous where I’m going, and I can’t worry about you also.”

  Ashton flushed red and shoved him in the shoulder. “Screw you, Ryder! I’ll be protecting your sorry smitten ass. You’ll need my help.”

  Ryder stepped back, impressed by the show of emotion displayed by his friend. “A short period of time ago, you were scared of the pixies.”

  “I wasn’t scared, I was cautious. But now I’m mad. There are beings up there being held prisoner. I refuse to be okay with that. I’m a gargoyle. I will go with you to ensure this Fedor is put away for good and has no opportunity to hurt others ever again.”

  Ryder grinned, but hid the emotion and pride. “All right, Ashton, you may come.”

  The searing pain he’d almost forgotten about for the last few days caused him to groan aloud and clench his fist. “Damn it,” he yelled out loud.

  “What? What is it?” Ashton leaped closer to him.

  Ryder had never shown anyone the scar on the palm of his hand, but he didn’t care anymore. Slowly, he unclenched his fist, wincing at the sight of his burning flesh.

  “How did that happen?” Ashton asked, alarmed. “Why isn’t it healing?”

  Ryder had figured out that the scar only pained him when Tempest was in trouble. His heart lurched, and for once, he panicked.

  What if she’s near death again?

  For the first time in his existence, he felt the welling up of tears.

  She just has to be okay. I’ll never forgive myself if something happened to her while I went and left her alone.

  “We have to go now, Ashton. I hope you can keep up, because time is of the essence. Tempest is in trouble!” He threw himself into the air, pumping harder with his wings than he’d ever done before. His homing instincts would guide him to the opening.