Overworld Chronicles Books 1-2: Sweet Blood of Mine & Dark Light of Mine by John Corwin Read Free Book Online Page A

soon."
    "Where's Mom?"
    He stared blankly for a moment before answering. "Work."
    "On a Saturday? Don't you guys usually go for hikes on the weekends?"
    He shrugged and gave a smile that never warmed the icy blue in his eyes. "Duty calls." He grabbed the doorknob. "Oh, and take the trash out when you have a chance."
    I stared at the door as it shut behind him, my mouth hanging open. Yeah, right. He could clean up his own beer bottles. And forget sitting around. I wanted answers. What the hell was wrong with him, and was he wearing blue contact lenses? After grabbing my jacket and pulling a ball cap low over my face, I dashed outside. Dad hadn't taken his car. I ran to the nearest crossroad and looked down the narrow sidewalks, spotting his figure a few blocks down near the small shopping center where Mom used to take me to get my hair cut. I hadn't let that old barber touch my hair for years now. It would totally ruin my long elf warrior 'do.
    I jogged after Dad. Maybe he was going for a haircut. But when I arrived at the stores, I found him sitting in the Laundromat of all places. Like the other businesses in the old strip mall, long plate-glass windows yellowed with age offered a view inside. A flickering neon sign advised passersby it was open twenty-four-seven. I edged to the end of the glass and peered inside. Dad sat, one leg crossed over the other, watching a couple of gray-haired women as they tossed clothes inside a washer and gossiped.
    He continued to watch them even after they took adjacent seats and pulled out smartphones to show off pictures, from what I could tell. Did my dad have a fetish for old ladies? Was he a stalker? Gross! My social life was in the toilet and my parents had gone completely off the edge. I was so screwed.
    Thirty minutes later, Dad stretched, stood up, and left. I hurried into the barber shop next door so he wouldn't see me. Old Larry, the barber, stopped shaving some poor kid's head with a pair of clippers and gave my shaggy mane a hungry look.
    "Justin Case? I haven't seen you in years, boy. Looks like I'll need to haul out my dog hair trimmers to get through the mess on your head."
    Dad trotted past outside. I hid behind a magazine and pulled the ball cap lower. "Thanks, Larry, but I think I changed my mind."
    I stepped outside and watched Dad jog toward home. All sorts of horrific nightmares danced through my mind about why he'd gone to a Laundromat without laundry to stare at old women. No wonder he and Mom were having problems.
    I wanted to jog after Dad but in my physical condition I wouldn't make it more than a few feet before oxygen deprivation dragged me to my knees and murdered a few million brain cells. I had a flashback to my fight with Nathan. It was a wonder I'd made it to the janitorial closet and back without passing out. I entered the front door of my house and found Dad chowing down cereal. His skin looked perfectly normal again. He glanced up with lively hazel eyes. "Why didn't you take out the trash?"
    It was all I could do not to gape at his sudden transformation. Maybe he'd taken to wearing colored contacts so old women would like him better. Creepy couldn't even begin to describe this situation. After I dumped the bag of sour-smelling beer bottles in the large stinky garbage can outside, I went into my room and stared at the wall. Mark and Harry hated me. There was no Kings and Castles tournament today. Katie despised me. My dad was stalking little old ladies, and my family was falling apart. Hopelessness welled in my heart. I didn't know what to do with myself.
    I jumped up and went into the bathroom, splashed my face with cold water, and dried it off. My trampled history essay sat atop my computer desk so I grabbed it and averted further misery by typing it out on my computer and polishing it until I looked up from the finished product hours later and saw the sunlight outside my window was long gone. Captain Tibbs had curled up in his now-usual spot on the desk