The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,43
turned away from Flintrop. Her sister made an urgent face.
Sara gave an imperceptible nod and called on her power. From where they sat, the others would not be able to tell her eyes had changed. She released her hold on mind reading.
A serpent ceremony, Faith told her silently, performed by a religious order that manipulated the ley lines for some kind of ritual. If I’m right, and the amulet is part of it, the man in the white robes may have been a druid.
Faith’s explanation was overlaid with the disturbing image of her vision from the amulet. Sara saw a large blond man drive a sword through another man’s belly. Blood pooled around the sword hilt, staining the victim’s white robes. She recoiled in surprise.
“Are you all right?” came Flintrop’s voice.
Sara shifted where she sat, and blinked to shut off her power. “I must have been sitting on a stone.”
He studied her. “Did you do something with your hair?”
Faith made a noise of disgust and got to her feet. “I’m going to my tent. I’ll see you in the morning, Sara.”
Sara smiled and said good night, even though every fiber of her being was suddenly and instantly begging, Please don’t leave me with him if you love me at all, you traitor! There weren’t too many times she wished Faith could read her mind in return, but now might have topped the list.
Flintrop cleared his throat. “I know we haven’t gotten on very well, Sara, but I do respect your work. I don’t want you to hold South America against me.”
She nodded in the direction of Faith’s tent. “I think my sister holds it against you more than I do.”
He sighed and tipped his flask again. “Faith and I never quite saw eye-to-eye on things.”
“Is that what you call it?” Sara muttered.
“Look, I saw the reports that came back to Eurocon so far on this job, and they’re brilliant. I’m not supposed to tell you, but Lambertson was even talking to Oxford about getting you a seminar, if this is as big as we think it’ll be.”
She gaped. “Really?”
“It’s too early yet to make any sort of decision, obviously, but he was serious, and so am I. I back him one hundred percent. You deserve to get the credit on this.” He smiled. “Call it my apology for South America.”
She didn’t know what to say. Gemini needed just the sort of publicity a seminar would promote.
Then again, credit for the dig wasn’t his to give. What had seemed an expansive gesture began to smack of empty bribery. “You want something.”
He chuckled. “I always did like your directness.”
“You don’t throw bones without expecting something back, Flintrop. What is it?”
He touched her hand, only briefly, but she froze. “I want to be friends. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been running a race with me to see who’s the best of the best. You don’t need to prove yourself, Sara. I already know you’re talented.”
She shot him a scathing look. “I’m not proving anything to you.”
“All right, that came out wrong. What I’m trying to say is, we’ve been working at odds with each other so long, it will be a nice change to work together on this project. With your skill and my resources, we’re going to blow the lid off this thing.”
She scrutinized him. He looked so enthusiastic, he almost convinced her he meant it. Then she noticed the way he leaned toward her...exactly the posture he’d presented to Faith while trying to seduce her in South America. Sara had enough experience—reading minds or not—to know that body language often gave away people’s true intentions, no matter what came out of their mouths. She jerked backward with an uncomfortable ooze of dismay.
So much for goodwill.
A bag of coffee with a Waverly’s label descended into the gap between them. Sara beamed and looked up.
Dangling the bag, Ian grinned down at her. “Saved from imminent sleepiness. This is from my private stash, I’ll have you know. I took pity.”
Delighted, she accepted the coffee. “Thank you.”
“The keys are back in your tent. Thanks for the loaner.”
Flintrop stiffened. “I take it you’re the wildlifer.”
Ian nodded. She noticed he didn’t bother offering his handshake. Impeccable timing and impeccable judge of character.
Then Ian turned his attention back to her, and his indifferent mask relaxed. “I brought you something else. I had a sweet tooth, so I made an emergency side trip.” With a triumphant smile, he rummaged in his jacket pocket and withdrew a small paper