The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,27
distrust.
She spent her waking hours with pick and shovel, laboring in spite of her injury. When it became too dark to see outside, she worked on her laptop, entering measurements, logging soil compositions, and keeping a precise record of their progress. Anxious for hard data, she logged onto her computer twice a day to check for lab results from Eurocon.
The e-mail response came at last on the morning of the spring equinox. Without reading it, she rushed from her tent in search of her sister. She found Faith surveying the perimeter of the site. “Hey. It came. Lamb responded.”
Faith shot upright, all attention. “Well? What’d he say?”
“I didn’t read it yet. Come on.”
They hurried back to Sara’s tent. She dropped into her chair, clicked on the e-mail, then read it aloud. “‘Sara—The lab results from your dig samples suggest the find to be of Norse origin—’” She let out a wild whoop. Everything their father had worked for might be right under their noses. At last.
“Come on, finish!” Faith danced in place and waved her hand at the screen.
Sara made herself sit still. “‘Carbon dating placed the samples within the period of Viking occupation of Shetland. Should you find artifacts, please photograph them immediately and send them here to the lab. I will be coming to the site within the week with more crew to oversee—’”
“Here it comes,” Faith snapped. “He’s going to send for Flintrop, I just know it.”
“He can’t. Shetland was Dad’s baby. I’ll kill him if he tries it!” Jittery, she started tapping her heel.
“Hello?” came a male voice from outside the tent.
Ian. Still here? Sara clapped a hand over her bouncing knee, but it did nothing to stop her jitters. She found Faith’s gaze. “Why don’t you go tell Thomas and Dustin? I’ll catch up with you.”
Faith responded with a doubtful expression and crossed her arms. “Why don’t you just tell me what’s going on between you two?”
“Nothing I can’t deal with.”
With a last, unconvinced smirk, Faith ducked outside. Sara glanced around her tent as if it might provide some excuse for remaining within. Nothing. She’d have to face him. Resigned, she emerged in her sister’s wake.
Ian strode toward the camp wearing a T-shirt, fleece jacket, and jeans.
And no sling.
Faith stood outside with her hands on her hips. She cast a brief, apprehensive look at Sara before she called to Ian. “Hey. Didn’t realize you had stayed. Your sling’s off. Better already?”
He came to a stop before them. “Yeah, it feels pretty good. Two days ago, I was photographing some gannets, and the tripod tipped over. I caught it without thinking, but it didn’t hurt. It’s just about back to normal.” He flexed the fingers of his left hand and waved his arm.
“That’s great.” Faith met Sara’s gaze with an expression that made it clear she sensed an undercurrent of tension.
“I’ll catch up with you,” Sara said reluctantly.
Faith gave her a long look that echoed the reluctance. “All right. If you hear anything else from Lamb, let me know. See you around, Ian.”
Ian jerked his chin in the direction of Faith’s retreating figure. “How’s the dig coming?”
She struggled with nerves. Why was he still here? Why, why, why? “You didn’t walk all the way down here for small talk.”
“Well, yes and no. I came to say I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for which part? Forcing me to confess my laundry list of unsavory traits, or being willing to make use of them?”
He sighed and angled his head toward her tent. “Inside?”
She allowed him into the tent ahead of her. She caught herself watching the way he angled his broad shoulders through the narrow doorway and cursed under her breath.
He didn’t sit. “I don’t have a right to accuse you of anything just because you’re...what you are.”
Okay. Unexpected, but not unwelcome. She crossed her arms and waited for the other shoe to drop.
“And you don’t have a right to involve me in whatever you’re doing with that necklace—”
Her temper flared. “Listen here, you—”
“—without telling me the whole story. What your sister is, what your father was. Why you had to drag me into it when you could have brought one of your own people with you to Mainland.”
She glowered at him, afraid that if she didn’t, he’d see how much his contempt had hurt. “I think I told you not to ask about my family.”
Advancing, he said, “I’m asking anyway. You owe me an explanation.”
“I seem to be owing you a whole lot of things, while I get nothing in