Forsaking (Vampire Assassin League Book 26) Read Online Free Page B

might alert anyone. She’d have to get her ten-speed bicycle out of storage. Dress for a night trip. Pack a few things.
    “You want to sneak back?” Susan asked.
    Marielle jerked slightly. “What?”
    “Well...I was thinking...if we told Dad that we were with you tonight—”
    “No.” Marielle interrupted her.
    “Oh. I think he would.”
    “No,” Marielle repeated.
    “Oh, come on. Dad is all kinds of interested in you. I can tell. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you to marry him yet.”
    “Really? That would be so like, cool! You’d be like our new step-mom!”
    Both girls were smiling. Marielle looked down before either could read her expression. As if they knew how to do that. Or cared enough to learn. That’s when she made her next life decision. She was filling her backpack. Calling the employee line to get a few days off. She didn’t have vacation or sick pay, but it didn’t matter. As long as she didn’t have to be near the twins or their father, she was good to go. And with that, she started padding her story.
    “Um. Ladies? Tonight is not a good night.”
    “So....he
has
asked you? Is that what you’re saying?”
    Marielle pondered Susan’s question. And her tone. The girl was fairly observant at times. She was going to need that skill. Marielle looked back up.
    “I...really don’t feel well.”
    “You don’t?”
    “The scaffolding broke earlier. I fell.”
    “You did?”
    Both girls looked surprised. Which proved they weren’t devious. Just unobservant. And self-centered. And extremely spoiled. Sharon spoke first.
    “Did you get like...hurt?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean. Nothing is broken. Oh. Look. We’re here.” The van pulled up to her complex gate. Not a second too soon, either. Marielle didn’t wait for someone to open her door. She jumped to the curb and dashed through the security gate, and that’s the last time she thought of either Sharon or Susan.
    Or their father.
    An hour and a half later she was pedaling, each move shedding the stress of what had become her everyday existence. She hadn’t thought through her actions. It felt like someone else was in charge. They’d taken over. And they had a mission. She could barely remember selecting and shoving items into a small backpack, dumping anything perishable into the multiplex trash-bin, unlocking and fetching her bike. She’d swapped her painter togs for spandex leggings, a moisture- wicking sports bra, and track shoes. Her hair was loose, held back by a sweatband on her forehead, and she wore a bandana atop that. It was perfect attire for exercise. She was getting quite a workout in what felt like a hotbox. But southern Nevada wasn’t known for cool temps. More than once, sweat stung her eyes before she wiped at it.
    And for some reason, she barely noticed any of it.
    The lights of Dobb Lake faded as she rounded the hill shielding Dobbin Creek. The old town wasn’t large. It had a wide main avenue, a couple of arterial streets containing bare spots here and there. Some were even outlined with fences. They’d once contained houses. Or tents. Dobbin Creek had been a boomtown during the mining days.
    This was all that survived.
    It looked eerie and ghostly. She should have been frightened. That was the farthest thing from her mind. If she considered it, the sensation filling her contained a hint of freedom, a breath of excitement, and a taste of thrill. The combination was intoxicating. Exhilarating. The sun was sinking, sending spectacular hues along with lengthy shadows onto the view. If she wasn’t still dealing with the weird muted sensation, she might have stopped for a moment and looked things over. Breathed deeply, and committed it to memory. So she could paint it later.
    She wasn’t doing that, either.
    The dirt road was at a slight downhill grade the last half mile. She pedaled it, anyway. And then she was there. In the front of the Number Eight Saloon. She propped her bike against the