“Telling me you can’t find her is not what I want to hear,” Fedor yelled, striking out at the snow troop. “You’re all fucking morons. What did she do, just fly away?” he motioned violently, throwing his arms up in the air.
“I want to know exactly what you found. Cash, spill it now, and don’t leave anything out.”
The hairy beast cowered as it moved forward. Fedor felt the anger inside him bottling up like a raging storm. “Hurry up, Cash. I don’t have all day.” He tapped his foot on the ground.
“We followed her tracks, as much as we could make out. Then we followed the gargdog. His were easier to follow. There seemed to be a scuffle in the snow. It was all trampled down, but then there was a clear path where it appears she must have slid. The creature followed, we saw his tracks. But then…there was the ledge. We can see where she went off the ledge and held on to a branch. She had to have fallen to her death.”
Fedor saw red.
What the hell happened? She couldn’t have fallen to her death.
He ran to the ice cabinet and opened the doors, holding his breath. Many of the colored ice crystals had lost their sparkle, but the one he wanted was in the back. Air left his lungs. Tempest was alive—if she wasn’t, the crystal and stones would also have lost their glimmer.
“She is not dead, you fucking idiots!” He replaced the priceless icicle. Vicasha had said somebody had been watching them. Something was up, and he needed to find out what. The smaller icicle beside Tempest’s glowed blue. It was Rogue’s.
A wicked smile formed on his face. He knew she’d follow wherever the beast went. Perhaps it was time to use a spell. He rubbed his chin, wondering if he had enough power. He had to try. Tempest would come back to him one way or another.
He removed the icicles devoid of life and dropped the first one on the cold ice surface and watched it shatter into hundreds of shards. The small jewel at its center sparkled brightly, and then disappeared before his eyes.
“Useless pieces of life,” he spat. “Fucked-up misfits…all of you!” He screamed into the cabinet as if they could hear. “None of you are worth shit, with the exception of one, and I will get her back.”
He poured himself a drink and wandered to his throne. “I should kill you, Cash. What good are you to me?”
The creature hung his head and trembled.
“Get the hell out, before I do decide to kill you.”
The sneer turned and awkwardly trotted away.
Figures, if I want something done right I should have done it myself.
He took a swallow, remembering the old days back on Levare. He’d been considered ugly, distasteful, and certainly not trustworthy. But then he’d discovered how to make some of the high-society Levarians want him.
The woman and man had struggled with their child in a prominent downtown area. The boy, apparently disfigured and behaving badly, caused more attention to the couple than they wanted. They left him crying while they continued to bicker. Fedor began to notice this couple didn’t seem to be the only pair who’d ended up with a child not meeting their expectations.
Levare had long since been known for barren women and infertile men. It didn’t seem to matter what species they were; if they remained on Levare, they would likely end up unable to procreate. If they did manage to produce an offspring, the outcome was not good. Desperate for the creation of life, many had sought the wizards and even the witch Astral. The problems had soon begun, and Fedor saw a way out for himself.
He’d approached the man and woman staring down at the disfigured boy. The man and woman had looked at him in horror as he stared down at their own monster, but in no time, he had the couple convinced the best place for the boy would be Misfit Mountain, where a nice home would await him. The babe would never undergo the cruelty of sneering stares and bitter laughter. He would be surrounded by loving individuals who were just like him. The best part about the deal was the parents could forget they’d ever had such a problem. Money transferred hands, and Fedor dealt with their problems. None of them bothered to check to see how their progeny was doing. They swept them under the carpet like specs of dirt.
With the aid of a few others to help with his plan, Misfit Mountain had been formed—his mountain. He just needed to ensure Tempest remained under his control. It was time to get her himself. Time to try a spell.