The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,18
don’t know what it is,” interrupted Sara. She paced the length of her tent. “Did you see anything else?”
Muscles worked in her sister’s jaw. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I saw what’s missing. The pieces on either side in the center of the necklace. Oval inlays.” She touched her locket. “One gold.” She gestured at Sara’s throat. “The other silver.”
Open-mouthed, Sara touched her locket. She unfastened it with shaking fingers. “We have to melt these down. They belong in the amulet.”
“Are you nuts?” Faith strode forward until she was toe to toe with Sara. “Dad took them out for a reason. He wanted to disable the amulet. It’s dangerous. You know it is.”
Sara shook her head. “He would have smashed it himself. I’m sure of it, Faith. I think he wanted us to do something with it.”
“Like what, get killed?” Faith slapped the amulet on the table and snatched an empty glass bottle. She raised it to strike.
“No!” Sara shouted, jumping toward her.
Faith brought the bottle down on the amulet with a crash. The bottle shattered, and a deafening chime reverberated off the tent walls. Both of them cringed and covered their ears until the sound faded away.
Faith clutched her now-bleeding hand and looked at the amulet, resting intact on Sara’s table. She bit off a moan and held her hand against her body. “Smashing it is out,” she snarled.
Sara snatched the amulet up, then looped it over her head and tucked it quickly into her sweater. The stone pulsed with heat against her skin.
Thomas ducked into the tent. “Everything okay in here?”
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Sara answered. “We’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Thomas passed her an unconvinced look, but left again.
When she was certain of their privacy, Sara reached her hand out to her sister. “Give me your locket.”
“You’re out of your mind.”
Sara stepped toward the tent door. “Do you want to figure this out, or not? Give me the locket. We’ll go to Mainland and get them put back in the amulet tomorrow morning.”
Faith grabbed Sara’s first-aid kit and dropped it on the table. She flung it open to rummage for bandages and antiseptic. “Sure. We’re just going to walk in there with this knick-knack, which no one is going to get curious about and ask questions about, and come looking for. Not to mention, I don’t think we should leave the dig site.”
“Fine. You stay with the dig. I’ll go to Mainland myself. Just give me the locket.”
Faith frowned and finished wrapping her hand with disgruntled motions. She grasped her locket and jerked. The chain snapped. She dropped the locket into Sara’s palm. “Take Ian with you.”
“What about Dustin or Thomas?”
“Ian,” Faith repeated flatly.
“You don’t trust them, do you?”
Faith closed up the kit and put it back in its place. She went to the tent door and paused, pursing her lips. “At this point, I don’t trust much of anyone. Ian’s the least of my worries, especially if he’s leaving.” She stepped out of the tent.
Most of the time, Sara trusted her sister’s intuition with her life.
This time, she feared she might regret it.
Chapter Four
The nightmare again.
Ian waded through the mess on the office floor. He groped for the desk lamp, then flipped it on with a sense of dread.
He knew the precise moment when the wraith appeared behind him. A flush of frigid air chilled his back. Ian steeled himself and turned around. His blood ran like ice water at the sight of the man.
Saying nothing, the gory man staggered forward and reached for Ian’s left arm. Ian jumped backward, but the man seized his shoulder in a crushing grip. Fire shot from Ian’s shoulder throughout his body. He screamed in agony and struggled, but the man stepped forward and pinned him to the desk.
Ian’s entire being shrank into that stone-faced stare and the torture of the man’s hold. He fought against the man’s bearlike grip. Tendons in his shoulder shifted and popped. Muscles contracted. His shoulder burned as if shards of glass were being driven into the joint. The shapes in the room blurred. Everything went scorching white.
He woke in the next instant blowing like a winded horse, and reached for his left shoulder. Pain throbbed along the length of his arm. Ian half expected it to be dislocated again, but the joint felt sound. He groaned and closed his eyes. The ache faded into numbness.
This dream was getting old real fast.
He lay silent a while, drifting in and out of a restless doze,