Forsaken An American Sasquatch Tale - By Christine Conder Page 0,18

sob.

Liberty enjoyed another wave of overdue justice. Good. Cry, Katie. How does it feel? Your son’s behavior finally hit home, huh? Liberty’s ears perked up when Adrian, the little Neanderthal, finally spoke.

“I know this is bad.” Adrian took his hands away from his face. He appeared to be looking at the dead space between all of them, cleared his throat. “And I’m sorry I got caught, but I couldn’t help it. I saw her. A girl…” Adrian dropped his head again.

Nathaniel yelled, the sound amplified in the small chamber, “Her? What’s her? You’ve risked our lives for some girl?”

Gabriel grabbed onto Nathaniel’s arm to keep him from pouncing on the kid again. Liberty looked at Katie and saw her eyes dart between her son, brother, and husband like she was trying to keep track of a wasp.

It was Adrian’s turn to raise his voice. “Not some girl, Nate. Sage. It was Sage.” Adrian’s voiced hitched. “And she was human.”

“What did you just say?” Liberty heard her voice before her mind registered the response.

“Sage. I saw her outside, as human. She was sitting with a boy at the pavilion near the campground.”

You could’ve heard a bat wing flutter at the far end of the cavern.

Liberty knew his mouth formed the words, her ears took them in, but she was having difficulty registering the meaning. The next she knew the walls closed in on her. The view got blurry and then she kissed the cold rock of the chamber floor. Sticky, sweet blood filled her mouth, her heartbeat drummed in her ears, and a pair of legs ran toward her.

Chapter Five

“Let her go, Lib,” Nathaniel said.

She looked at him, then at Sage and Adrian standing under the ladder in the vestibule, and knew she was outnumbered. She tried anyway.

“But it’s not dark, yet.”

Nathaniel leaned against the corridor, arms crossed over his chest and looked at her like she was a silly bird, latched onto her chick’s wing as it fluttered against her in the nest. “I know.” He nodded toward the kids. “And they know the boundaries.”

She looked at Adrian, the same age but shorter and leaner than Sage, and then eyed the burlap sack he intended to fill with greens and herbs, the ingredients for a special meal he planned to make later that evening. He was a budding chef, and rather good when you considered his limitations in cooking essentials.

Raindrops pattered the hatch. Liberty looked at Nathaniel and pointed up. “What about the weather?”

“It’s not acid, Lib, it’s water. It’s fine.” He grinned, enjoying the banter a little too much.

“Yeah,” Adrian piped up. “Makes for easier pickings.” He shook the empty bag.

Liberty looked at Sage. Her posture mimicked her father’s, arms crossed as if she were bored out of her mind. Dark, red hair fell past her shoulders, no longer kept in ponytails like she did as a young girl. Her green eyes were lined with black pencil. She looked like the models in the magazines she picked out of the donation bin.

Sage rolled her eyes when Liberty remained silent and said, “C’mon, we’re not kids anymore, you know? This is getting embarrassing.” She stretched out a manicured hand and checked her nails. Exactly when had she gotten so snotty?

Liberty opened her mouth to ask if Sage had finished her assignments, but shut it again. The ploy wouldn’t work. Lessons were put on hold any time family visited. Besides, she’d excelled. It was doubtful even a year without lessons would hinder her.

And Sage was right, in a way. Liberty did overreact sometimes. Here were two cousins, headed outside for fun and some fresh air. No harm in it. But Liberty longed to hug her, to feel reassurance. They’d become so painfully distant lately.

She sighed. “All right. Go.”

“Thanks.” Adrian beamed. “We’ll be careful.”

Sage’s expression hadn’t changed. She still looked perturbed, the norm for her lately. “I’m nearly sixteen, you know. You can’t keep me locked up here forever.” Sage took a deep breath like she planned to let loose with a long squawkfest.

Liberty held up a hand for Sage to stop. “Don’t forget—”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it.” Sage waved her mother off. “Twenty paces in from the east field.”

Liberty nodded. “Away from the farmhouse. And north?”

Adrian answered as he kicked off his shoes. “To the boulder near the creek.”

Sage finished, “Fifty paces from the west. God, Mom, I know to stay away from the freaking road—”

“That’s enough, Sage,” Nathaniel interrupted the beginnings of a rant, which they’d been getting a lot