The Serpent in the Stone (The Gifted Series) (10 page)

“
Fine.
You stay with the dig.
I
’
ll go to Mainland myself.
Just give me the locket.
”

Faith frowned and finished wrapping her hand with disgruntled motions.
She grasped her locket and jerked.
The chain snapped.
She dropped the locket into Sara
’
s palm.
“
Take Ian with you.
”

“
What about Dustin or Thomas?
”

“
Ian,
”
Faith repeated flatly.

“
You don
’
t trust them, do you?
”

Faith closed up the kit and put it back in its place.
She went to the tent door and paused, pursing her lips.
“
At this point, I don
’
t trust much of anyone.
Ian
’
s the least of my worries, especially if he
’
s leaving.
”
She stepped out of the tent.

Most of the time, Sara trusted her sister
’
s intuition with her life.

This time, she feared she might regret it.

Chapter Four

The nightmare again.

Ian waded through the mess on the office floor.
He groped for the desk lamp, then flipped it on with a sense of dread.

He knew the precise moment when the wraith appeared behind him.
A flush of frigid air chilled his back.
Ian steeled himself and turned around.
His blood ran like ice water at the sight of the man.

Saying nothing, the gory man staggered forward and reached for Ian
’
s left arm.
Ian jumped backward, but the man seized his shoulder in a crushing grip.
Fire shot from Ian
’
s shoulder throughout his body.
He screamed in agony and struggled, but the man stepped forward and pinned him to the desk.

Ian
’
s entire being shrank into that stone-faced stare and the torture of the man
’
s hold.
He fought against the man
’
s bearlike grip.
Tendons in his shoulder shifted and popped.
Muscles contracted.
His shoulder burned as if shards of glass were being driven into the joint.
The shapes in the room blurred.
Everything went scorching white.

He woke in the next instant blowing like a winded horse, and reached for his left shoulder.
Pain throbbed along the length of his arm.
Ian half expected it to be dislocated again, but the joint felt sound.
He groaned and closed his eyes.
The ache faded into numbness.

This dream was getting old real fast.

He lay silent a while, drifting in and out of a restless doze, until he heard footsteps outside his tent.
He snapped awake at once.
After the incident with his climbing rope, every sound that wasn
’
t wind or birds put him on alert.
He rolled smoothly out of bed and onto his feet.

The sun had risen.
A shadow fell across his tent.
“
Ian?
”

Sara.

A mental picture of her naked body, washed in gold by the reflection of the sunset, charged into his thoughts and obliterated everything else.
Wrestling to push the image out of his head—and the reaction out of his body—he reached for a clean T-shirt.
“
Give me a minute.
”
Or maybe a few minutes, because all he wanted was to keep playing that image and see where it led.

He shrugged his bad shoulder purposely, letting the discomfort force his attention elsewhere.
The joint tingled with the same pins-and-needles sensation he
’
d experienced when he woke from his nightmare.
He put the shirt on, careless about his injury, then grabbed his sling and went barefoot to the tent door.

When he opened it, Sara stood there with her hands jammed into her coat pockets, looking like she wanted to be anywhere else.
Her cheeks were pink, too pink to be from the exertion of her walk alone, and he wondered if she were thinking of that encounter at the inlet.
Shut up about it,
he ordered his body.

A backpack hung from her shoulder.
She canted her head, seeming to weigh her words.
“
You didn
’
t come down last night.
”

“
I had to finish packing,
”
he lied.

She frowned.
“
I need your help.
”

The image of the gory man flashed in his memory.
Hhhhelp her.
Ian jerked in surprise.
He
’
d never ignored his gut responses before.

Something told him not to start now.
He wanted to tell her to forget it, but the throbbing of his shoulder reminded him he owed her his life, whether he liked it or not.
He hated being indebted to her, being forced to have anything to do with her.

But parts of him really, really liked it.

He sighed.
Help her, it is.
This once...then I
’
m out.

Her cheeks went pinker, and he saw her try to push herself past the awkwardness of their last meeting.
The look on her face tugged at his sense of humor.
If it weren
’
t for...everything...he might have laughed.
“
Let me get my stuff together.
”

“
What about your post?
”
she asked.

“
It can wait a while.
”

They walked to the eastern shoreline, where he knew it dipped close enough to sea level to admit a small dock.
Sara remained silent.
She didn
’
t seem to know any better than he what to say in the wake of yesterday.

God.
Please stop thinking about that.
His pulse quickened.
He took a deep breath at the thought of her naked, dripping body, burned indelible in his memory by instant and painful need.
He
’
d almost given in.
A couple more steps, and he
’
d have torn that towel away, and damn all the reasons he didn
’
t want to want her.

He dropped behind her as they walked, trying to put some space between them, but it served only to give him a too-compelling view of her swinging hips.

A motorboat rested at the dock.
“
This is our ride,
”
she said.

“
Where are we going?
”

“
Mainland.
I have to find a jeweler, and quickly.
I don
’
t want to leave the dig site too long.
”
She unsnapped the boat cover, then pulled it back as fast as possible.

“
A jeweler?
”
What the hell was so important about a jeweler that it couldn
’
t wait?
He moved to help her with the boat cover.
“
Why take me?
”

“
Faith doesn
’
t want to leave the dig.
”

“
There
’
s always your crew.
”

She didn
’
t answer right away.
She folded the boat cover, stowed it in the stern of the boat, then unwound the first of the mooring lines.
“
We need them working.
My sister seems to think enough of you to suggest you come with me.
”

He didn
’
t miss that she left her own opinion unspoken.
What had he done to garner Faith
’
s confidence when he
’
d hardly talked to her, while Sara remained evasive?
He started on the other mooring line.
“
What do you want a jeweler for, anyway?
”

“
My necklace, the stone one.
I
’
m fixing it.
”

“
Was it broken?
”

“
There are two pieces missing.
I
’
m having them put back in it.
”

An unaccountable chill passed through his body.
She could have seen a jeweler by herself, at any time.
One-handed, he worked the mooring line free, then coiled it onto a cleat.
“
Why can
’
t it wait?
”

She gestured to the dock and moved to the steering wheel.
“
Give us a push, will you?
”

Ian reached over the edge of the boat and gave the piling a shove.
The boat drifted away from the dock.

Sara keyed the engine.
It rumbled to life, idling in the water.
She waited until Ian sat down to ease away from shore, then took her own seat.
“
My father gave me the necklace.
It
’
s important to me.
”

True, he was sure, but not the whole truth.
Sara stared forward along their course, spine rigid, mute as a statue.
He rubbed his shoulder.
It still prickled, more a discomfort now than actual pain.
“
I
’
ll bet.
That
’
s why we
’
re rushing off to Mainland.
”

She answered only by opening the throttle.
The boat shot forward.
Ian sighed and held on for the ride.

****

The Mainland telephone directory listed four jewelers in their vicinity.
The first was closed.
The next two refused to do the work in less than a week.
The fourth shop didn
’
t look promising, either.

Ian mistrusted the appearance of the people passing back and forth along the street in front of the shop.
Most of them streamed out of a sad-looking pub two doors down.
He didn
’
t want to speculate on the nature of the other buildings mashed together cheek by jowl on either side of the jeweler.
“
I
’
m guessing this part of town isn
’
t in the tour books.
”

The grimy shop window bore a sign that read
Buy, Sell, Repair
in faded red script.
Its door hung open as if waiting for them.
Sara headed across the street with a decisive gait.
He shook his head and followed.

Inside, the shop didn
’
t improve upon first impressions.
They rounded a short counter just inside the doorway.
Clutter of every sort swarmed along the shelves and cases.
A radio stuffed between stacks of old books droned out a staticky racing broadcast.

The weedy, grizzled man behind the counter glanced up when they entered, then went back to puffing on his cigarette over the newspaper.
Ian saw a few gruesome knives in the cases and speculated at their previous use.
He bent close to Sara
’
s ear and whispered,
“
If this is a jeweler
’
s, I
’
m the king of England.
”

Sara turned her back on the shopkeeper and murmured,
“
Just follow my lead, okay?
”

She turned around again, and Ian wondered why she didn
’
t move forward.
She stood still a moment, just looking at the shop
’
s proprietor.
He was about to ask why she waited, but she walked to the counter, withdrew a leather billfold from her pocket, then slapped it down.

The man snapped to attention and dropped the stub of his cigarette on the paper.
It began to singe a hole in the sports page.
He patted at it with frantic motions, gave up, then doused it with the half pint of beer sitting beside the cash register.
“
Whassis?
”
he blustered, sopping up the mess with a dirty handkerchief plucked from his belt.