The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,88
needs me. Just go back to the dig.”
“Are you nuts?”
“I’ve got it handled. Go,” Faith demanded.
“Like hell.”
Sara cradled her aching skull. “Stop. Please.” She teetered on the edge of the cot. “He’s not... He was helping me. I think.”
Both of them turned to stare at her.
Faith recovered first. “Flintrop, if you want to help, clear the hearth. Let me worry about my sister.”
He cast a doubtful glance in Sara’s direction. With an irritable jerk of his shoulder, Flintrop spun and left the tent.
Faith sat down as soon as he was gone, and laid a cool hand on Sara’s forehead. “I don’t know how much use this is going to be, but here goes nothing.”
Sara struggled to shut out the bass-drum pounding of her head. “What are you doing?”
“Hopefully not asking for trouble. Sit still. I’m going to read you.”
Sara seized her sister’s hand and yanked it away from her forehead. “Don’t!”
“What do you mean, ‘don’t?’ This isn’t funny anymore. You’re scaring me.”
“It’s not... You shouldn’t. Just don’t.”
“Sara, you can’t keep this up. It’s not like you, even when you’re working hard. Something’s wrong.”
Sara shook her head, sliding back onto the cot away from her sister. She lay back down with a sigh. “Just give me a little while, and I’ll be back out to help.”
“You’re staying put if I have to strap you down. I’m getting Ian.”
Sara didn’t hear her leave.
****
Faith headed up the slope at a fast walk, hugging herself. What’s the matter with her? If it’s the ley line, why isn’t it happening to me? She chewed at her lip, wishing she could contact Hakon for help. She’d been unable to reach him for days, and that made her almost as uneasy as Sara’s mysterious illness. She should have let Flintrop radio a chopper, but she couldn’t afford to be without her sister tonight.
“Where is she?” came Ian’s voice, snapping her out of her thoughts.
She looked up to see him marching down the slope toward her. “How did you know—”
He kept walking, and she turned back toward the dig with him. “Is she hurt?” he demanded.
“She’s exhausted, Ian. Tonight’s the deadline, and—”
“Are you still planning on going through with this insanity?”
“What choice do we have? It’s too dangerous not to close the ley line. Why do you think we’ve been working so fast?” She broke into jog, outstripping his lengthy stride. “It hasn’t been for fun.”
They went on in silence for several yards. When they reached camp, Faith went to her sister’s tent without stopping.
“What’s he doing here?” asked Flintrop from his position inside the dig.
“Don’t start,” Faith snapped. “He’s here to see Sara.”
“She’s asleep.” Flintrop stood upright, brushing earth from his hands. “Finally.”
“Oh, thank God.” Faith could have kissed him. Almost.
“Hopefully, she’ll stay out for at least a few hours, if no one disturbs her,” Flintrop added, casting a pointed look in Ian’s direction.
Faith felt a charge of sheer hatred in the air around Ian. She winced in empathy and took his hand. “Don’t.”
Ian hissed outward through his teeth.
Flintrop came toward them through a gap in the ruin that had once been a doorway. “Faith, the crew’s got something up at the hearth I think you should look at. We found a bowl.”
A bowl. Forgetting their feud for a moment, Faith headed toward the ruin, urging Ian with her.
“What are you doing?” Flintrop asked, seeing her propel Ian into the confines of the dig.
“Never mind what I’m doing. He’s not bothering Sara, is he?”
“What are you doing?” Ian murmured in her ear.
Michael turned around, cradling the bowl in his hands. Faith reached for it.
Ian sucked in a breath, and then covered it with a cough. Puzzled, she caught him staring at the bowl. He shot her a warning look and glanced around the ruin. Faith saw him taking quick measure of the layout, and realized that he was comparing the modern-day structure to the house he’d seen in his dream. His gaze swept back to the bowl.
She realized then why he didn’t want her to touch it. This was the sacrificial bowl he’d seen in his dream. The one that had held Aesa’s blood.
The world went off-kilter for a few seconds.
Faith pulled a cloth from her back pocket and unfolded it, then held it out for the bowl. Michael gave her a long look of bewilderment, but set the artifact in the cloth. She folded the edges over the bowl, trying not to notice the discolored stains on its rough concave surface. With a curt word, she