The Serpent in the Stone (The Gifted Series) (3 page)

He examined his stinging hand, half-expecting to see blood where the glass had sliced it in his dream.

Nothing.

He tried not to admit to relief.
He
’
d never experienced real pain in a dream before, and he hadn
’
t had a nightmare in years.
Must be coming to this place, seeing Sara.
Everything was messing with his senses.

Your own fault,
he scolded himself.
He
’
d been the one to follow her.
He
’
d been the one to ask for Shetland.

What the hell was he thinking?

He grappled for his watch on the table beside his cot.
Almost five o
’
clock.
With a sigh, he swung out of bed and onto his feet to start work.

****

Hvitmar had been made with a shapeshifter in mind.

Sara ran as a wolf, with the wind whistling through her fur and reveling in the shape.
It brought her speed.
Power.
Joy in the simple act of being alive.
Freedom she
’
d never known as a human.
She galloped along the shoreline, her broad paws eating up the ground.
The air was crisp with the scents of earth and ocean.
Cries of seabirds rang out in the sky.

Ian
’
s birds,
she thought with a snort.

She hadn
’
t even gone in the direction of his camp yet.
Skirting the dig site to avoid leaving tracks, she
’
d explored the northern edges of the island.
Gulls scolded her, and she spied a seal dozing among the rocks offshore.

She decided to head up to Ian
’
s camp before the fog burned off and left her visible to any observers.
She
’
d start by asking him down to breakfast, a safe enough opening.
Then she
’
d follow it up with
Get off my island
and see how he took that.

But first, she owed her sister an apology for their spat yesterday.
She set off toward Faith
’
s tent.

Sara approached it with caution.
A long yawn came from within.
Tongue lolling, she padded to a halt outside and snuffed aloud.

She heard a rustle.
The door flap opened and her sister ducked out, struggling into a heavy wool sweater.
“
What are you doing outside like that?
”
Faith whispered.

Sara didn
’
t bother to shapeshift back to her human body.
She twitched an ear and glanced around the foggy moor, then back to her sister.

Faith crossed her arms.
“
All right, so no one
’
s up.
I hope you didn
’
t leave tracks everywhere for me to scuff out.
”

Sara shook her shaggy lupine head.

Faith looked southward toward Ian
’
s camp, then smiled at her.
“
You
’
re planning to go see him, aren
’
t you?
Told you, you should.
”

Sara flattened her ears.
God, she loved having ears that flattened.
Very eloquent.

“
Get out of here before the guys get up.
Say hi to him for me.
”

Sara sent her a last, annoyed glare before loping away.

****

Ian tossed a fleece vest on over his thermal shirt, then hooked an extra set of carabiners to his climbing harness.
He glanced around his tent before realizing he must have left his rope bag hanging outside last night.
In his hurry to record data on yesterday
’
s climb, he
’
d dropped most of his gear and gone straight into the tent to write as soon as he got back.

Outside, he threw the coil of rope over his shoulder and headed for the sea cliffs.
He
’
d spotted a nest sheltered in a crag about halfway down, and itched to get a closer look.

When he reached the cliff edge, he looked out over the ocean.
The view took his breath away.
The sunrise had just begun, burning off the fog and painting the few clouds with a champagne-pink blaze.
Unst made a faint, misty shadow on the horizon.
This, he could handle.
To hell with people and supernatural powers and all that head-case stuff that made living day to day such a pain in the ass.
A view like this made it all go away.

He’d learned from a young age to spot good holds, and which surfaces were secure enough for a chock or cam that would support him. The southern cliffs of Hvitmar were high and challenging, but not impossible. He hitched up his anchor points and auto-belayer, then secured a mat at the cliff edge to prevent rubbing on the rope. “All right, lady,” he said, “let’s see what else you’re hiding.” He hooked the rope to his belt, then started over the edge.

Once he found his seat in the harness, he touched the toes of his shoes against the cliffside and pushed off, feeding the rope along and rappelling downward.
The sun went from pink to brilliant red and began to turn golden.
Birds squabbled far below on the beach at the cliff base.

He had almost reached the site of the nest when the rope gave a
twang
, followed by a sickening lurch.
Ian jerked his head up.
More than a body length above on the rope was a telltale frayed strand hanging loose.
“
Shit, shit, shit,
”
he whispered.
How the hell had this happened?
The rope had been perfectly sound on inspection last night.
Jamming his fingers into the nearest crevice, he twisted his hand sideways just as the rest of the rope snapped.

His body plunged downward, until his handhold yanked it to a halt.
Fire seared up his left arm from shoulder to wrist.
He snarled in agony.
His shoes scraped madly against the cliff, seeking a purchase as the remainder of the rope slithered past him on its descent.
Don
’
t look down, Christ, don
’
t look
. He swallowed back his fear and thought fast.
Stones crumbled under his feet and plummeted away.
He dangled against the side of the cliff, trying to lie flat against the stone.
Winds battered dangerously against his body.

No one would hear him in this wind, even if he screamed.

“
Son of a bitch.
”
He had to look.

No footholds, no handholds, nothing at all.
Smooth as glass for far too much space underneath him.
More than a hundred feet below lay the rocky cliff base.
His arm throbbed and threatened to pry his handhold from the rock.
Panting, he closed his eyes against stinging sweat and pressed his forehead against the stone.

When he checked, upward didn
’
t look any better.
The next closest handhold was half a body length up.
Even if he swung, he didn
’
t think he could reach it, but he had to try.
His hands were sweating, and he couldn
’
t reach his belt bucket to rechalk.

Face it, Waverly, you
’
re screwed.
His handhold began to loosen, sending shards of pain down his arm.
He took a breath and used what leverage he had to push sideways.

His fingers slid out of the crevice.

He went backward, slipping away from the cliff in a free fall.
He didn
’
t even have time or breath to scream.

Wind whistled past him.
The cliffside went by in a speeding blur.

Ian knew he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Chapter Two

Oh, my God.
Still in her wolf shape, Sara summoned her telekinesis and stopped Ian
’
s plummeting body in midair.
Even from this distance, standing far above at the cliff
’
s edge, she heard his grunt of shock.
Her heartbeat slammed.
Every hair of her pelt stood on end.
Her horrified moan came out as a low-pitched whine.

There would be no way out of this.

She watched him look around and notice that he dangled by nothing.
The ocean crashed against the rocks some seventy feet below him.
“
Jesus
!
”
he shouted.
He pulled his arms and legs closer to his body, and she almost lost her hold on him.
Breathless, she struggled to steady his weight with her gift.

He looked up and found her standing at the cliff edge.
She trembled under his stare, but dared not look away.
Gently, she lifted him with her power.
His body rose upward.

His gaze never left her through each foot of his ascent.
At last, he reached the top of the cliff, floating over the lip to solid ground.
She sidestepped as she lowered him down.
He kept right on staring until she wanted to cower before him.

His hand came up to his left shoulder.
Sweat trickled down his forehead.
She smelled the distress of his pain and heard his breath shuddering in and out.
The thought repeating in his head barged into her senses, even without her seeking it.

Wolf eyes aren
’
t green.

Terror seized her.
She bolted straight for the cliff edge.

He lunged forward.
“
No!
”

She catapulted over the precipice into space and dropped out of his sight.
Her stomach swooped as she fell.
Quickly, she called on the shape of the gulls squawking in alarm around her.
In a flash, she changed into one of the birds, then circled high into the air.

Ian staggered toward the cliff edge, clutching his arm.
He leaned over and looked, down, down, down to the water.
After a few moments, he turned away from the cliff and stumbled to where she—the wolf—had been standing.
He dropped to one knee, pressing his injured arm close to his body, and scanned the ground.

Shaking so hard she could barely maintain the gull form, she soared northward down the island, craving escape.
Only when she was sure he wasn
’
t looking did she let go of the gull shape and return to her human one.
For a few seconds, she could only stand there and tremble with shock.
What have I done?

Minutes passed.
She had to force herself to walk toward him.
Every step felt like a move toward a noose with her name on it.
She approached him from behind, light-footed, prepared to run again.
Her voice shook a little as she spoke.
“
What are you doing?
”

He looked up and blinked as if he thought she were a hallucination.
With a grunt, he lurched to his feet and swayed.

She hurried to his side.
“
What
’
s wrong?
”

“
My shoulder.
I think it
’
s dislocated.
”

Flushed and fearful, she examined him from head to foot.
There was no choice.
“
Come on.
I
’
ll help you into your tent.
”
She touched his uninjured arm.

He radiated heat through the jacket.
She almost let go, but he slumped against her and she willed herself to stay put.
He bit off a gasp and stumbled along with her.
As soon as they got into the tent, he fell onto his cot and blacked out.

The sudden silence was alarming.
Sara shifted her weight from foot to foot, uncertain what to do.
Every impulse screamed at her to run.
She could have slipped out at any moment...but she didn
’
t.

Dislocated. No matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t leave him like that. She knelt and pawed underneath a small table, looking for his first-aid kit. If he even had one.
What kind of a fool...