The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,5

at the cliff base.

He had almost reached the site of the nest when the rope gave a twang, followed by a sickening lurch. Ian jerked his head up. More than a body length above on the rope was a telltale frayed strand hanging loose. “Shit, shit, shit,” he whispered. How the hell had this happened? The rope had been perfectly sound on inspection last night. Jamming his fingers into the nearest crevice, he twisted his hand sideways just as the rest of the rope snapped.

His body plunged downward, until his handhold yanked it to a halt. Fire seared up his left arm from shoulder to wrist. He snarled in agony. His shoes scraped madly against the cliff, seeking a purchase as the remainder of the rope slithered past him on its descent. Don’t look down, Christ, don’t look. He swallowed back his fear and thought fast. Stones crumbled under his feet and plummeted away. He dangled against the side of the cliff, trying to lie flat against the stone. Winds battered dangerously against his body.

No one would hear him in this wind, even if he screamed.

“Son of a bitch.” He had to look.

No footholds, no handholds, nothing at all. Smooth as glass for far too much space underneath him. More than a hundred feet below lay the rocky cliff base. His arm throbbed and threatened to pry his handhold from the rock. Panting, he closed his eyes against stinging sweat and pressed his forehead against the stone.

When he checked, upward didn’t look any better. The next closest handhold was half a body length up. Even if he swung, he didn’t think he could reach it, but he had to try. His hands were sweating, and he couldn’t reach his belt bucket to rechalk.

Face it, Waverly, you’re screwed. His handhold began to loosen, sending shards of pain down his arm. He took a breath and used what leverage he had to push sideways.

His fingers slid out of the crevice.

He went backward, slipping away from the cliff in a free fall. He didn’t even have time or breath to scream.

Wind whistled past him. The cliffside went by in a speeding blur.

Ian knew he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Chapter Two

Oh, my God. Still in her wolf shape, Sara summoned her telekinesis and stopped Ian’s plummeting body in midair. Even from this distance, standing far above at the cliff’s edge, she heard his grunt of shock. Her heartbeat slammed. Every hair of her pelt stood on end. Her horrified moan came out as a low-pitched whine.

There would be no way out of this.

She watched him look around and notice that he dangled by nothing. The ocean crashed against the rocks some seventy feet below him. “Jesus!” he shouted. He pulled his arms and legs closer to his body, and she almost lost her hold on him. Breathless, she struggled to steady his weight with her gift.

He looked up and found her standing at the cliff edge. She trembled under his stare, but dared not look away. Gently, she lifted him with her power. His body rose upward.

His gaze never left her through each foot of his ascent. At last, he reached the top of the cliff, floating over the lip to solid ground. She sidestepped as she lowered him down. He kept right on staring until she wanted to cower before him.

His hand came up to his left shoulder. Sweat trickled down his forehead. She smelled the distress of his pain and heard his breath shuddering in and out. The thought repeating in his head barged into her senses, even without her seeking it.

Wolf eyes aren’t green.

Terror seized her. She bolted straight for the cliff edge.

He lunged forward. “No!”

She catapulted over the precipice into space and dropped out of his sight. Her stomach swooped as she fell. Quickly, she called on the shape of the gulls squawking in alarm around her. In a flash, she changed into one of the birds, then circled high into the air.

Ian staggered toward the cliff edge, clutching his arm. He leaned over and looked, down, down, down to the water. After a few moments, he turned away from the cliff and stumbled to where she—the wolf—had been standing. He dropped to one knee, pressing his injured arm close to his body, and scanned the ground.

Shaking so hard she could barely maintain the gull form, she soared northward down the island, craving escape. Only when she was sure he wasn’t looking