The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,14
light. Ian’s kiss had resonated through her dreams, bringing restless flashes of rasping stubble against her heated skin. She shivered in the bitter air and sat up, pressing her fingers to her lips as if she could still feel him.
So. He knew. What would he do about it?
Nothing good, judging from the way he’d flown out of her tent. It had taken her a few moments to realize her eyes must have changed again. Caught up in the kiss, she hadn’t even felt it happen. When she tried to go after him, confront him, Dustin had stopped her with some maddening, trivial thing about soil compositions. She’d been forced to stay at the camp and deal with it, all the while casting furtive looks up the slope of the island.
The night storm had blown over. The roar of wind had faded to a periodic whooshing around the edges of the tent. She swung her legs over the edge of the cot—
—and froze.
The tent door hung partly open, its corner flapping in the breeze. She knew she’d shut that last night. She went to it and peered out. A glance down revealed no tracks on the ground. That proved nothing; they might have been washed away by the rain. She zipped the door shut, then hurried into a warm change of clothes.
The amulet. Ian knew about that, too. She touched a hand to her throat; the stone disk was tucked safely under her shirt. She pulled it out and examined it, a thin, discus-like object less than five centimeters across. Each side bore the same worn carving: a serpent winding in and out of a Celtic knot, then circling back to swallow its own tail. A small oval depression lay in the center of the discus on either side.
She traced a finger along the center depressions, as she’d done maybe a hundred times since finding it among her father’s possessions. “Something’s missing, Dad,” she murmured, noting the sharp edges where the centerpieces had been pried loose. “But what?”
One hour and five reference books later, she had gained no insight into the amulet’s origins. She couldn’t bring herself to draw or catalogue it, as she would any other artifact. With her books exhausted, she turned to the Internet. She opened the browser on her laptop and began the arduous task of sifting through innumerable Web sites on Celtic lore. “Come on. One mention, that’s all I want. Give me something to work with,” she pleaded.
Footsteps sounded outside her tent. “Sara?”
Ian.
A chill rushed through her. She wondered if she could bluff her way out of what had happened between them last night.
Confidence, she reminded herself. One slip, and he’d pounce. Closing her laptop with a snap, she said, “I’m here. Come in.”
He unzipped the tent door and stepped inside, lowering a knapsack from his good shoulder. His gaze roved about the tent with an expression of deadpan calm, then landed at last on her. “I just wanted to tell you—”
She sat up straight and matched his deadpan look.
“—I’m leaving.”
Dismay warred with relief. “What?”
“I’m leaving,” he added. “Changing my post. I’m going to Mainland first thing tomorrow.”
She stood up. “Why?” she asked before she could stop herself.
He shifted and skimmed her tent with a look before bringing his attention back to her, as if he had to make himself do so. “You’ve got things you don’t want to tell me. Things I don’t want to know, and probably shouldn’t.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but couldn’t. The words hovered on the tip of her tongue. Do you know what I am?
He crossed the tent to stand in front of her, looking caught between reluctance and determination. “I’m sorry for last night. For the kiss.”
Her heart began thumping faster. “Oh.” I don’t think I am, she wanted to say. Even now, she had to work to keep from moving toward him.
He shouldered the knapsack again. “Anyway, I’ve got a favor to ask you. Will you show me where those seals are before I go? I want something from here to take back with me, for the college.” When she didn’t respond, he added, “Is now a bad time?”
“No one’s going to be up for another half hour, at least. I can take you.”
By the time they reached the rocky northwestern shore, the sun had just begun its ascent, painting the sky in stained-glass hues. They walked down to the beach. Safe topics, she thought. Stick to the animals. “I’m not sure any will be here,”