The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,100

this happen, Faith? How did it happen?”

Faith had never seen Lamb so upset. She turned in an uncertain circle in the otherwise empty hospital waiting room. How much to tell? “I...”

Lamb came forward, looking angry. “Three people have died on this project. With Cameron, that makes four. This is a disaster. And now your sister is injured, and—” He broke off and spun away to pace the polished floor.

She reached into her coat pocket for the two journals wedged there: the one Flintrop had stolen, and the new one that had replaced it. “I think— Lamb, can I trust you?”

He stiffened. She knew the question had stung him. She’d never had to ask before. “With your life. You know that.”

She hated the doubt creeping through her skin. She called on her psychic power, and tears blurred his figure. A shiver skipped down her spine.

He stared. Stared some more. Nothing in his aura suggested deception. She didn’t bother blinking to let her eyes change back to their normal blue, wanting him to get a good look at the silver. She handed her journals over. “There are some things you need to know about Sara and me.”

With an unreadable face, he took the journals and sat in a corner of the room. For the next hour, he neither spoke nor looked at her, absorbed in her written words.

Faith gazed out the waiting room window at a park across the street. A blond man in a red sweater was pushing a curly-haired child on the swings.

For no particular reason, she thought of Hakon. He’d protected her...as much as a ghost could protect her against a group of madmen bent on destruction. She’d never felt that safe before, even when the fault caved in on top of her and stopped just short of crushing her.

Now that their secret had been revealed, would she and Sara ever be safe again?

The door opened. Her mother rushed in. “Oh, Faith. Sweetheart, I came as fast as I could get here. Are you all right?” She pressed her hands to either side of Faith’s face.

Faith hugged her mother. “I’m fine, Mom. Sara’s still unconscious, but the doctors say all her vitals are good.”

Lambertson closed the books, and stood. “Angela. It’s good to see you. I only wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Hello, James.” Her mother kissed him on the cheek.

Faith tried not to look surprised at the affectionate gesture. Lamb’s gaze flickered over her, still unreadable, and she looked away. In the park across the street, the red-sweatered man and the child had moved on to a slide.

“Angela, why don’t you go and sit with Sara? I’d like to speak with Faith for a few minutes.”

Faith tensed. She murmured a quick goodbye to her mother. The door closed with a thump, and the waiting room went silent and sterile.

When Lamb spoke, she heard him force calm into his voice. “Robert told me once that if anything ever happened to him, I was to watch over you and Sara. He sounded so grave at the time that it worried me. Now I know what he was protecting. Not just his children, but their gifts. Your gifts.”

She couldn’t find anything to say at first. She cleared her throat, but no words came. She crossed the room to sit down. “Dad... He knew?”

Lamb sat beside her. “I think he must have. I never saw him so serious. He wrote a letter, sealed it, and made me swear to give it to your mother when you were older. I guess it’s time.” He studied her journals, still in his hands, then gave them back to her. “I spent a lot of years working with your father. Nothing ever made me question his judgment until now. I don’t know if I’m the right person for this.”

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

A warm, rough hand slid into her own. “You don’t have to be. I made a promise, and I intend to honor it.”

Lamb reached up without hesitation, and pushed an errant lock of her long, blond hair behind her ear. “I’ve known you girls since you were children. You’re as much mine as you ever were your father’s. You are bright, talented, beautiful young women who make me proud. Whatever else you are, you’re still that, Faith, darling.”

They sat there for a long time, just holding hands.

Lamb cleared his throat, and sat back in the chair. Faith sat back, too, their hands still linked. “Do you know,” he said, “I always thought it strange, but