When he spoke, his voice rasped with mingled discomfort and mirth. “I have a dislocated shoulder, and you think a little peroxide is going to hurt me?”
She scowled to cover her nerves and finished wiping the blood off his hand. Fearing the answer, she plunged ahead with her next question. “How did you get back up the cliff?”
“I don’t remember.”
Of course he did. She’d caught the rise of his voice, the clipped edges of his words. She looked up, and her pulse quickened. He sat so close she saw tiny flecks of green in his eyes. His mouth quirked, bringing out a dimple in his stubbled cheek.
She snatched up the contents of the first-aid kit. “You have to keep your arm in a neutral position. Put something under the elbow to keep it a little away from your body. It could take a month to heal. You should do some exercises, ice it. And you shouldn’t raise it over your head for a while—”
Ian took her hand in his good one. His warm fingers coasted over her palm. “Sara.”
The contact, and the sound of her name on his lips, froze her in place where she knelt. She sucked in a lungful of air and held it.
“Look at me.”
She quivered with the force of her powers begging to be released. Her heartbeat slammed so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. Not now, not now— Swallowing, she looked up.
His expression had gone dead serious, and his gaze skimmed her body. Something stirred, heated, in those stormy depths. He searched her face—looking for the change?—and leaned closer. Closer. If she raised her chin, and shifted just...a little...bit...
“Hello?” came a voice from outside the tent. A moment later, Faith ducked in. “Well, this is interesting.”
Sara yanked her hand out of Ian’s and sat back so quickly, she almost pitched over.
Faith smiled. “Where’ve you been? I thought you’d be back by now.” She turned to Ian. Her gaze fell on his sling. “What happened?”
“I dislocated my shoulder,” he answered, standing up. He tested the joint with his opposite hand.
Sara watched her sister’s entire attitude change at the admittedly pleasant timbre of Ian’s voice. Faith burst into a brilliant smile. “I don’t think we’ve properly met. I’m Faith Markham, Sara’s sister.”
“Ian Waverly.” He shook her outstretched hand, then stepped back to allow her room. “Sara was helping me put my shoulder back into joint. Come in.”
“Really? You all right?” When he nodded, she added, “I started to worry when you didn’t come back down, Sara. Breakfast has been over for half an hour.” Faith sidled into the tent, crouched down, and helped her gather the spilled contents of the first-aid kit. Wo-o-o-ow! she mouthed, eyes bright.
Sara flushed and glanced up through her lashes at Ian. His gaze took on an intensity that made her heart start thumping again, equal parts foreboding and something much more disturbing. She took a box of bandages from her sister and put it away. “We’d better go,” she said, shoving the kit back under the bed. “I’ve probably already missed breaking ground.”
“Not really,” Faith interrupted with a cheerful shrug. “We’ve been busy setting markers. I’ll just go back down and let the guys know you’re okay.” She stood again.
Sara shot to her feet. “I’m coming with you. Just give me a second.”
Faith gave her a last, knowing look. “Nice to meet you, Ian. Come down for dinner, if you get the chance.” She left the tent.
Before Sara could follow, Ian stopped her at the tent doorway with a hand on her arm. She stiffened, struggled for something to say. “You should put some ice on that shoulder.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
She eased out of his grasp and hurried away.
She caught up with her sister partway down the slope. As she drew alongside, Faith said, “You can lose it, now. He’s out of earshot.”
“You are the biggest thorn in my side I’ve ever known,” Sara said, “but your timing is impeccable, so thank you.”
“Yeah, you looked like you were dying for an interruption back there.” Her sister shrugged. “I used to hate that term ‘bedroom eyes,’ but I have to admit, he’s got ’em. If I were you, I’d have told me to piss off and come back later.”
“You’re not funny.”
“Come on. You’re going to die an old maid at this rate. I only wanted to meet him and see what my sister’s all flustered about.”
“Flustered! He was climbing down the cliff, and his rope broke! I had to use telekinesis on him!”
At that, Faith stopped dead, blood draining from her face. “What?”
“As the wolf, he only saw the wolf.” Sara’s breath escaped her. Now that she was free to panic, the weight on her chest doubled.
“Oh, God,” Faith murmured. “He knows, then?”
“Well, I didn’t take out an advertisement, but I’m sure he’s bright enough to figure out that something’s not quite right. Would you just happen to volunteer to work on the same island as me, if you were him?”
“All right, all right. Don’t bite my head off. I’m as freaked out as you are.”
“I somehow doubt that. For all he knows, you’re normal,” Sara said.
“I’m worried about you, half-wit. What did he say?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Which, if you’re wondering, is a hundred times worse than questions might have been.”
By the time they reached their camp, the digging had begun. Dustin and Thomas had laid out the parameters of their site with Eurocon’s usual efficiency. Not for the first time, Sara wondered if it wouldn’t have been smarter to join Lamb at his firm in London than to strike out on their own, but she was damn proud of the way they’d clawed their way up from the bottom. No matter what else she and Faith were, no one could take that away from them.
She entered her tent to the chirping of her satellite phone. Stacks of books covered her camp table. She pushed them aside to reach the handset. “Hello?”
Static fizzed in her ear. “Sara? Is that you?”
Sara recognized their secretary from the office at home. Agitation laced the woman’s voice. “Holly, what’s wrong?”
“Th-There’s been a burglary.”
Her heart skipped. “Are you all right? Is everyone all right?”
“Yes. Everyone’s fine. It wasn’t at the office.” She paused, and Sara sensed her reluctance to continue. “It was your house.”
Sara’s throat constricted. She dropped shaking into a chair. “Did someone see what happened?”
“Mrs. Shoemaker next door said she saw a man walking around the building yesterday. He told her he was from the power company. Did you have them scheduled to read the meter?”
“No. Did the police come?”
“He left before they got there. She gave them a description and a report,” Holly explained, sounding calmer now that the bad news was out.
Sara fidgeted with her books. Mrs. Shoemaker was a nice, elderly woman with a penchant for being into her neighbors’ business. For once, Sara was glad of it. “What did they take?” she asked.
“Some jewelry...”
Sara’s fingers flew at once to the amulet hidden under her sweater. She eyed the cooler in the corner, longing for a large bottle of cold water to ease the sudden, desert dryness of her mouth. “What else?”
“Your stereos and televisions. A lot of your things got opened, dressers and boxes and stuff. I don’t think anything else was stolen. What do you want me to do?”
“We can’t leave the dig. Give me the number to the police station, and I’ll call them. I don’t think we’ll be able to do anything until we’re home. Is the office all right?”
“Yes. Should I call your mother? She’s in the Keys this week, isn’t she?”
“Yes, please,” she replied, thankful for Holly’s composure. Right now, she couldn’t claim the same attribute.
When she hung up, she hurried to the dig site, feeling cold to the marrow of her bones. “Faith.”
Her sis
ter stood ankle-deep in loose earth, sweating with the effort of digging in spite of the cool morning. She jammed the end of her shovel in the peat, then climbed out of the trench. “What I wouldn’t give just to be able to pull this all out with a backhoe,” she muttered once she reached Sara’s side. She gave a groan, stretching the muscles of her back, then lifted her golden-blond mane to air the nape of her neck.
In the middle of a catlike arch, Faith stopped, listening. “All right, that’s it. Something’s here, and—” She scanned the dig site, but neither Thomas nor Dustin were around. “I’m not even using my power,” she added in a harsh whisper, “and something keeps trying to get my attention.”
“Our house was robbed,” Sara blurted.
Her sister blanched.
Sara hadn’t meant to let it out so quickly. “No one’s hurt,” she added. She explained what Holly had told her. Her hand went toward her throat, then dropped again. “I don’t think this was a random event.”
Faith pursed her lips. Her gaze went to Sara’s sweater. When she spoke, her voice was low. “I think we’d better find out what that necklace is, and quick.”
“We’re out of stakes,” Dustin announced behind them. “Do either of you have more in your tents?”
Sara flinched at his appearance, but Dustin didn’t notice. “I’ll go get them.” She shot a meaningful look at her sister.
Faith nodded understanding. They would hit the books tonight, and find out more about the amulet.
Before someone else found them in possession of it.
****
The day’s digging progressed faster than Sara had hoped. The sun rode its arc overhead, and by the time it dipped into the western horizon, they had managed to remove the first layer of earth from around the wall. She was bone-tired at the end of the day, and only too happy to flop down beside the cooking fire. Comforted by its glow, she rubbed her sore neck muscles. “This is a well-earned meal.”
“That’s for sure,” Thomas agreed, tossing hamburgers on the grill.
While they waited for the food to cook, she recounted the facts of the day’s work and went over their goals for tomorrow. Dustin sat nearby, sketching in a notebook, his face glowing in the firelight. Across the fire, Faith watched him work with a drowsy abstraction and began to nod off.
A moment later, her sister’s head snapped up. “Hi, Ian,” Faith called into the darkness.
Sara’s belly flopped. She looked past Faith. As he neared the campfire, Ian’s form grew more distinct. If knowing he was present sent her stomach into a frenzy, seeing him sent her into such a state of disorder that she could barely think.
Ian lowered himself to the ground beside Faith. “How’d you know?”
“You’re the only other human being on the island,” said Faith. “That, and I’m smart.”
“I came down to see how everything went today.” He cast a glance around the fire, visibly assessing the company at hand. His gaze landed on Sara.
She shifted where she sat, glad for the flickering light that hid the blush warming her cheeks. She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d been thinking of him all day, no matter how much his knowledge of her gifts worried her. Every time her thoughts went to the way he’d looked at her before Faith showed up, she caught her breath. “How’s your arm?” she managed.
“It feels like a truck ran it over, but I’ll live.”
The way he held her gaze, as if there was no one else on the island, unnerved her. Needing to get his attention off her, she cleared her throat. “I don’t think you’ve met our crew. This is Thomas Callander, and that’s Dustin Sennett. Guys, this is Ian Waverly.”
Dustin waved and went back to sketching. That was Dustin: all work and no conversation.
Thomas shook Ian’s hand. “Pleasure. What brings you to Hvitmar?”
“Just lucky, I guess,” Ian answered. His glance drifted toward her before going back to Thomas. “I study wildlife.”
Thomas began dishing out the hamburgers. “You hungry?”
“Thought you’d never ask.” Ian accepted a plate with a grin that transformed his features and set off an entire Fourth of July of sparks throughout Sara’s body. She ripped her gaze away to the fire.
The group ate in silence for a while. The quiet began to get almost as uncomfortable as words. Ian’s stare had weight. “Were you able to get anything done today, with your arm like that?” she asked at last.
“I can’t get down the cliffs, but I did get a pretty accurate population count using binoculars and my camera. Tomorrow I want to take a quick look around the north end, if that won’t interfere with your dig.”
“There are seals,” she said. “I saw one this morning.”
He looked up from his plate with a speed that she didn’t think had much to do with seals. “Want to show me where?”
A distant boom of thunder interrupted the conversation. The wind began picking up, and the fire guttered in its wake. “I think the fun is over for the night,” Faith announced, getting to her feet.
The group collected the remains of their meal. Dustin headed to his tent to continue working on his sketches, and Thomas made off with the grill and dishes.
Faith started toward her tent, then hesitated. “Sara?”
“I’m fine,” she assured her sister. No, I’m not. “Go on.” Stay, stay, for God’s sake, stay.
Her sister nodded and walked away.
Sara watched her go. If Faith sensed her agitation, she ignored it skillfully...and willfully. With a grimace of resignation, Sara picked up a last few maps scattered about the ground, then put the fire out. The wind whistled around the tents, and she smelled rain on the air. She had mountains of research waiting, including whatever she could find on the amulet, but frowned at the thought of Ian walking back up to his camp in the rain. She hesitated, hardly believing what she was about to say. “The storm may not last long, if you want to stick around.”
He looked up. The gathering clouds had obliterated all traces of the stars. Thunder rumbled again, louder this time. “Yeah, I guess I’ll wait it out.”
They headed toward Sara’s tent as the first drops splattered down. From there, the rain increased tenfold, drenching them both and rushing them along. They made it to shelter just as the first flash of lighting arced across the sky. The wind surged. She wondered if her tent wouldn’t be blown flat by morning.
Inside, she lit the lantern on her bedside table. She grabbed a towel to dry her sopping ponytail. “I’m sure I could have used a bath, but not like this.” Her sweater stuck like a wet sponge to her skin. She peeled it away with a disgusted sneer.
Ian turned his back to her. “Go ahead and get changed.”
She caught her breath at the view of him thus presented. His rain-soaked jeans and jacket were plastered to his body. She followed the lines of his broad shoulders down to a narrow waist and stopped on a very nice ass. Oh, my God... Quit looking!
So not a teacher’s body. She did an about-face and snatched a T-shirt from her trunk, shucking out of her sweater as fast as possible. She threw the T-shirt on, only to discover it was inside out and backward. She cursed under her breath, and ripped it off to turn it right side out.
****
Ian knew he shouldn’t, but he looked over his shoulder. His mouth went dry as he fixed on her near-naked back. Lantern light glistened on her damp skin. As she wrestled with the shirt, her shoulder blades arched above a bra gone transparent with water.
Heat blazed up his spine. From where he stood, he could have reached her in three steps. Pained, he closed his eyes. Don’t. Fucking. Move. Already, his body had formed other ideas.
All of which sounded way too good.
For whatever she was.
For a minute, all he heard was the sound of shuffling cloth. Then she asked, “Are you okay?”
He chanced another glimpse back over his shoulder. Dressed now, she frowned at him in an expression of concern. He frowned, too. He couldn’t call it relief, but it was
sure as hell easier to say something when she had her shirt on. “Yeah.”
She picked up the towel and offered it to him. He took it to dry his own dripping hair. It smelled like her: earthy, with an undertone of something spicy that made him want to act on his earlier impulses. He tried not to breathe it in, feeling suddenly trapped in her tent while the storm howled outside.
“Do you want something dry to wear? I could ask one of the guys for a set of clothes.”
“I’m fine.”
“At least something for a dry sling. Do you need any ice? We have an icebox hooked up to a generator.”
“No. Sara, the sling is fine. My arm is fine. Don’t worry about it.” He dropped the towel on her trunk, took a few steps away, then sat in an empty camp chair. She stayed where she was, crossing her arms over her body as if she were cold. He warred with the confusion etched like a neon sign into her posture. “I’m sorry. It just hurts, so I’m punchy. I didn’t take any painkillers tonight.”
“Oh.”
“You gonna sit?”
Prodded into motion, she fished in the cooler by her table. “Normally after breaking ground on a dig, I finish up the day with a beer. Sort of an opening ceremony.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
She offered him a drink. He took a water, even though he would rather have downed a six pack in one shot. She got a beer for herself, then sat with a long sigh in the table’s opposite chair. “I hope it doesn’t rain tomorrow. I’d like to get further than we did today.”
He recognized the nervous chatter for what it was. He knew what she was. She knew he knew it. His good manners prodded him just enough to push out some conversation, while they were stuck here. “What got you into all this, anyway?”
The rumble and hiss of the storm filled the silence for a minute. “My father.” She smiled, and Ian found his gaze locked on it. “Dad was an archaeologist. He taught at the university, and they sent him all over the world on assignments. I used to love it when he came home with stories about where he’d been and what he saw. Archaeology seemed like such an adventure. He was brilliant.”
The Serpent in the Stone (The Gifted Series) Page 3