The Serpent in the Stone (The Gifted Series) (12 page)

She labored into a sitting position, then withdrew her bloodstained fingers from her arm.
He heard footsteps shuffling down the alley behind them.

Whatever had just happened, an explanation would have to wait.
“
Come on, you
’
ve got to get up,
”
he said.
“
How bad are you hurt?
”

“
It
’
s a scratch.
He missed...mostly.
”
When Ian reached reluctantly for her hand, she pulled it away.
“
I can get up by myself.
”

He hated to admit it, but relief washed through him at her refusal.

She lumbered onto her feet, and they started running again.
They emerged from the alley into the street out front, still breathless.
She slipped into the crowd and he jogged alongside her.

Sara took off her jacket to examine the bullet wound.
She threw the coat under her arm, then clapped her hand over the wound again to staunch the bleeding.
“
Tell me you got the necklace back.
”

“
Yeah.
Want to tell me why we
’
re getting shot at for your birthday present?
”

“
You ask a lot of questions for someone who wants nothing to do with this.
”

Fury exploded through him.
“
I think I have a right to know, Sara!
”
He scanned the crowd to be sure they weren
’
t being followed, then stopped walking.

She went a few steps farther, hesitated, and then came back.

Pedestrians and cars alike rushed up and down the street, minding their own business.
Ian reached into his pocket and held up the necklace, lowering his voice to a hostile whisper.
“
If I
’
m going to be shot at, I should damn well know what
you
are, and what
this
is.
I
’
m not playing games with my life, and
you
aren
’
t, either.
”
When she reached for the necklace, he jerked it out of her reach, and stuffed it back in his pocket with a stony look.

She sighed, and the fight went out of her eyes.
“
Not here, and not now.
I
’
ll tell you
”
—she winced and gripped her upper arm once more—
“
anything you want to know.
Later.
”

“
You had better,
”
he said, and marched away without waiting for her.

****

Sara threw her coat over her shoulder to hide the blood while they took a taxi back to the pier.
Ian sat rigid in the back seat, as far from her as he could get without wedging himself against the door.
They didn
’
t speak to one another at all.

Once they boarded the motorboat, she dropped her bloodstained coat and started the engine.
Ian sat in the other seat—still looking like he
’
d have preferred a few extra miles between them—and they sped away from Mainland.

A good way past Unst, he said something she didn
’
t catch over the noise of wind and motor.
She lowered the throttle just enough to shout,
“
What?
”

“
Cut the motor!
”

She glanced around.
They were still in open water.
“
Why?
”

“
Do it!
”

Gritting her teeth, she did so, then lobbed the anchor over the edge of the boat.
The craft bobbed in the waves.
Her ears rang with the sudden absence of noise.

Then she spied the streaks of blood oozing from the gash in her shoulder.
She put a hand to the wound and hissed.
“
I thought I stopped it.
”

“
Yeah, well... No, you didn
’
t.
Don
’
t you have a first-aid kit on this boat?
”

“
The guys must have taken it with them down to the dig,
”
she said.

Ian muttered something she was grateful not to hear, then removed his sling and shucked off his T-shirt.
Using his teeth and good hand, he tore a couple of strips off the bottom.

She noticed him using the hand of his injured arm also.
Not well, but using it.
He was healing really fast.
Strange.

“
Come here,
”
he said.

She didn
’
t.
His naked torso was every bit as broad and well-defined as it had looked under the thermal shirt when she reset his shoulder.
Fine hair dusted his chest.
She struggled not to stare and lost.

He held up the pieces of torn shirt.
“
Do you want to keep bleeding?
”

Gull cries drifted overhead in the cool air.
She shook out of her daze and leaned toward him, presenting her arm.

He knelt on the floor of the boat beside her chair. He laid a strip of cloth over the wound and wrapped it with fast, economical motions, as though he didn’t want to touch her any more than necessary. She couldn’t blame him. This morning when he woke, she doubted gunfire had been on his agenda.

She started to apologize, but he had finished and sat back in his seat. “That should hold it for a while.” His gaze found hers. “I want some answers.”

It was work to hold that stare.
She tried glancing away, but the only alternative was his body.
She snapped her attention back to his face.
“
Aren
’
t you going to freeze out here like that?
”

He reached behind the seats for her coat and held it up with a question in his eyes.
She shrugged, and he draped it over his shoulders.
“
I
’
m all ears.
”

Ah.
Therein lay the reason for this mid-ocean pause.
“
Out here where you think I can
’
t get away from you.
”

“
Can you?
”

“
Yes.
”

Ian reached into his pocket and withdrew the amulet.
With a hard look at her, he dangled it from his fist over the edge of the boat.
“
Can you now?
”

She twitched, wanting to lunge for the necklace, but stayed seated by sheer force of will.
“
What makes you think I wouldn
’
t throw
you
overboard?
”
she said in a rush.

His eyes burned with a look that infuriated her even as it made her heart beat faster.
“
Why would you have caught me at the cliff instead of letting me fall, if you wanted to get rid of me?
”

She sucked in a long breath.
Hearing him speak of her abilities aloud brought it home:

Someone knew. There could be no more hiding. As much as that realization terrified her, a sense of relief flooded her body, so strong that it made her want to cry.

Someone knew.

He studied her, hard-eyed, suspicion traced in every line of his posture as if he were watching a venomous snake for the moment of attack.
She bit her lip, just managing to stop a flood of tears.
She
’
d be damned if she let him see her crumble.

“
What—
exactly
—are you?
”
he demanded.

Alarm bells clanged at the hostility in his voice.
She had to force her voice past them.
“
You
’
ve seen me shapeshift.
I can read minds sometimes.
”

“
I
’
ve got time for the long version.
”
He put the necklace back into his pocket.
The shuttered look on his face raised panicky flutters in her belly.

She drew a long breath.
“
Telekinesis.
I caught you with telekinesis.
”

“
How did you get telekinesis?
”

“
It
’
s not like they hand it out in stores!
It just happened one day.
I didn
’
t know what it was, and I was too scared to tell my parents.
I was afraid of it for a long time.
”

“
And now you
’
re not.
”

His flat, blunt words stabbed at her heart.
He might as well have slapped her down into a seat in an interrogation room.
They traded stares.
“
Yeah.
Now I
’
m not.
”

“When did your father die? How did he die?”

Her thoughts flew to the amulet in Ian’s pocket. “What has any of this got to do with my father?”

“Maybe nothing. Could be more. This stuff might be genetic.”

Icy dread crawled across her skin. This time, she did hug herself. “I’m done talking to you.”

Quick as lightning, he reached forward and snatched the boat keys from the ignition. “This necklace has to be important if you’re willing to risk being shot to fix it, Sara. That’s not even going there about you risking
me
being shot at. You’re not getting it back until you talk.”

She felt naked. Worse than she had at the inlet. Then, she’d seen desire in his eyes.

Now, she saw only hatred. “This isn’t about me,” she said, startled. “It’s about you.”

“Never mind me,” he snapped.

“What is it?” she asked. “What happened to you?”

“How did your father die?”

Pain and betrayal surged anew through every cell in her body, and that little girl from twenty years ago gave a silent wail of outrage. “He. Was. Murdered.”

Chapter Five

Murder.

He didn’t want to draw parallels. Not with her.
Especially
not with her.

Memories rushed him. He held his breath and tried like hell to stop them, but they came anyway, clear as the day they’d happened.

He saw his childhood home in his mind. The stranger in their kitchen raised a hand toward the knife block on the counter. Ian watched, stunned, as a knife flew through the air without help and sank into his father’s chest. He screamed and shot toward the stranger with all the rage his ten-year-old body could muster. His mother shouted behind him.
Don’t hurt my boy, please don’t hurt my boy...

His eyes snapped open. Sara sat straight up in her seat, hands fisted in her lap. She shuddered when their gazes met. “Can I have my keys back now?” she asked. Her voice trembled.

Ian searched for something to say, fought for a calm voice as he said it. “How was he murdered?”

Her gaze didn’t budge from his even as she flinched. “I don’t know. He was staying late at the college when it happened. I was only a kid.”

He frowned. He’d suspected, for one tense minute, that his father’s murderer had been
her
father. Lots of things were genetic. Why not telekinesis? The rage drained out of him as fast as it had boiled up, leaving confusion in its wake.

The killer hadn’t been Sara’s father. That man had been shot by the police soon after killing Daniel Waverly. A better death than he deserved. “What about your sister?”

Sara’s eyes went green so fast it gave him chills. Her voice was rock-steady when she spoke. “Faith’s different. And she’s none of your business.”

“And your mother? Is she ‘different,’ too?”

“No. And I better not hear you ask about my family again.”

Somewhere underneath his distaste, he felt oddly moved by her swift and ferocious defense of her family.
It only made him angrier to have any kinship with her in that way.
He shrugged, trying to ease the knots in his shoulders.
“
What about the wolf?
How do you do the wolf?
”

She fidgeted.
“
It
’
s a shapeshift.
I just think about it, and it happens.
It
’
s harder than telekinesis.
”