The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,36

her forward. The air heated behind her with its urgency. Shrinking away from it, Faith stepped toward the first marker.

Buzzing roared in her ears. A lighting bolt of pain ripped through her body. Her breath whooshed out and she crumpled to the ground. Disjointed voices screamed around her. Nausea twisted in her gut.

The ghost touched her shoulder again. Its chill anchored her senses. For a moment, the touch became a single point of stillness in the maelstrom around her. It wants...help.

The other voices screeched again, and the storm of energy swallowed her connection with the ghost. Faith cried out, but could not move. The world spun and went black.

****

A shout tore Sara from her sleep.

Faith.

Sara sprang out of bed and bolted from her tent, ready to annihilate someone with telekinesis. Seeing her sister sprawled on the ground, she rushed forward. “Faith!”

“Sara, no!”

She had a split second to register Ian’s shout before he tackled her. His arm snaked around her midsection, and he hauled her back from the dig.

“What are you doing? Let go!” she shrieked, thrashing in his grip. She tried to shapeshift, but he threw his other arm around her and crushed her against him. She wheezed, distracted, unable to force the change.

Ian’s heartbeat pounded against her back, and his breath churned in her ear. He reached up to her throat, clawing at the neckline of her tank top. She squirmed, but couldn’t break his hold. Grasping the leather lace of her amulet, he jerked, and it broke loose. He released her and staggered back.

Freed, Sara charged toward her sister, then dropped to the ground beside her. “Faith. Faith!”

Dustin and Thomas skidded to a halt before her tent. Dustin drew a rifle on Ian. “Get back!”

Ian stood his ground, clutching his ribs and panting. The amulet swung from his fingers. He eyed the rifle, then looked back toward Sara, his posture rigid.

Dustin cocked the rifle, then trained it again on Ian’s figure. “God damn it, I’ll shoot!”

Sara turned back to Faith, shaking her shoulder with no effect. Near panic, she tried again with the same result. “Faith. Come on, please, wake up!”

Thomas moved toward her. “Sara.”

She spun to her feet and lunged without thinking, reactive, just able to stop her power from surfacing. Thomas caught her. “Get off me!” She struggled, but he grabbed her and held on until she gave up fighting him. Ian’s expression remained unreadable in the near-darkness. Sara wrestled away from Thomas to crouch beside Faith’s body again, stricken.

Clearly calmer than any of them, Thomas bent over Faith, checking her for wounds. He glanced back over his shoulder. “Dustin, put the gun down.”

“The hell I will! What did you do to Faith, you son of a bitch?”

Sara divided a desperate look among Faith’s body, Dustin, and Ian. There was no time, no time for this!

Still catching his breath, Ian crossed his arms and hid the amulet in the crook of his elbow. “I didn’t touch her.”

Thomas gathered Faith into his arms and stood up. “Dustin, I said put the gun down.”

Dustin watched Ian as if daring him to move, then lowered the rifle.

Thomas carried Faith to Sara’s tent. Sara hurried after him, shaking, then burst into the tent right on his heels. Her patience snapped. “Put her on my cot and get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“Out,” she demanded. “Put her down and go.” Squirming with anxiety, she kept her gaze on her sister, looking for injuries, illness, anything, and found nothing. Sara’s entire body screamed for privacy. Whatever had done this to her sister wasn’t physical. I can’t lose you.

Thomas lowered Faith’s body to the cot. “She needs help.”

“I’ve got this. She’ll be all right. Take Dustin with you.”

Thomas gave her a skeptical stare, then backed out of the tent. Outside, she heard him tell Dustin to leave with him.

“What about him?” Dustin asked.

“Go home, Waverly,” came Thomas’s frosty voice. She heard footsteps moving away.

As soon as they faded out of earshot, Sara sat beside her sister. “Come on, you fool,” she murmured, laying a hand on her sister’s forehead. “Did you try to astral project? I swear to God, if I lose you, I’ll get you back, and then kill you.” She lifted one of her sister’s closed eyelids. Faith’s eyes were blue, but unfocused and glassy.

The longer Faith remained in a trance or a state of astral projection, the harder it would be to awaken her. Precious seconds ticked by as Sara tried everything she knew. Applying ice, shaking Faith, holding her hand...none of it