Wicked Misery (Miss Misery) by Tracey Martin Read Free Book Online

felt more confident and energized as I stomped down the street.
    I tangled my fingers through the scarf in my pocket as I crossed into the Common. There might be no point hiding my face from this person, but in case he or she didn’t know who I was or what I looked like, I planned on wearing it. Just not yet. I liked breathing too much.
    The city’s eternal glow cast the trees in long shadows that tangoed in the breeze, and swarms of imps staked out their territory by the black branches. All at once a tree might light up like Christmas as a foreign imp crossed into occupied territory and the swarm flashed a warning.
    Ahead stood the Gryphon Tribute, ostensibly deserted. It was huge, the largest structure in the Common. Four granite gryphons of the mythological type stood guard, one at each corner of a roofless pavilion. Their stone beaks and wide wings jutted into the night. Their talons grasped the square bases beneath them. It wasn’t uncommon during the day to see parents lift their children onto those bases so the kids could climb on the backs of the gryphons. It also wasn’t uncommon to see kids fall off the statues and split their chins on the rock.
    I circled the Tribute, probing anything that came into my awareness for signs of hostility, and found none. Yawning, I checked my watch again. My note-writer could be arriving any moment. Time to pull out the scarf. A couple minutes later it hid my scowl, and I clung to the shadows as I eased my way along the outside ledge of the Tribute.
    I pushed off, folding my head against my chest as I flew the short distance through the air. My feet touched the corner of a statue base, and my hands shot out to grab the underside of the lion body. With my eyes closed, I waited until my balance returned, then slowly stood and pulled myself up.
    From the back of the gryphon, I was buried in shadow with a good one-hundred-eighty-degree view of the Common. It wasn’t the best spot for mobility, but it served quite well for a hiding place. And if I had to, jumping down was a lot easier than getting up.
    So let the waiting begin.
    The minutes ticked down until tomorrow arrived. People scurried across the clearing, fear nipping at their heels like dragon teeth. Owls called out. Imps ignited the darkness. A couple noticed me and I had to swat them away.
    One stung the back of my neck. I gritted my teeth, holding in a string of swearing and feeling my gift go dead as if someone had flicked off a light switch. Just what I needed. Much as I hated my ability to feed off misery, I’d come to rely on the sixth sense it gave me—that ability to tell when someone was near and to guess at what they were thinking. Without it, I was way more vulnerable, and that was so not good on this messed-up rendezvous.
    Alas, there was nothing I could do about it now besides curse.
    I rested my head against the statue and hoped the imp irritant cream I had at home was still good or I’d be out more cash tomorrow. Even with cream, I’d be scarred for months once the swelling subsided. Really, it was too bad I didn’t know how to make my own charms. The thought of grinding those magical mosquitoes to mush with a mortar and pestle filled me with delight.
    “You’re here already?”
    I jumped, then stiffened at the strange voice. Great. He’d surprised me—exactly what I’d been hoping to avoid. The voice came from the left, but I couldn’t see anyone yet.
    He had to be standing along the side of the Tribute, around the corner and out of my sight. I peeled myself off the gryphon’s back. Crouching beneath the beast’s belly, I tried to guess how many minutes it had been since the imp stung me. Not enough to get my power back, clearly.
    “Who are you?”
    I heard him suck in a breath. A shadow moved around the corner then darted back behind the wall. “Finally,” the voice answered. “I knew you were here.”
    “Yeah, congratulations. I got your note. That’s what happens when people leave notes