The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,99
vision in her left eye.
Her head pounded. She shook it again, trying to come to terms with the blind spot in her vision.
Faith. Ian. Memory returned, and with it, awareness of her surroundings. Sitting back as if in a trance, she looked around.
The reddish glow of sunrise lanced through the fog, gradually unshrouding the bodies strewn like wreckage across the moor. Michael lay twisted several feet away. Luis was sprawled at the edge of the ruin.
And Ian. He lay face down, eyes closed, limbs thrown askew in the way he had fallen. Dried blood stained the shoulder of his T-shirt. She saw blackened scorch marks on his right arm where Flintrop had touched him, and more on the fingers of his left hand where he had, in turn, passed the shock through his own body to Luis. His hair fluttered in the breeze. No other movement disturbed the silence.
Choking, Sara crawled toward him and clutched at the back of his T-shirt. “Ian.” She nudged him. His body jerked with her push, then lay still again. Her throat tightened to a strangle. She shook him harder. “Ian. Ian!” He didn’t respond. Dark blood collected, glistening and sluggish, in the torn flesh of his shoulder. She bit off a moan. With her hand shaking so hard she could barely steady it, she touched two fingers to the hollow in his throat.
No charge. No pulse. His skin felt cold.
No. No no no no no. “Nooooooo!” Sara balled her fists, nails digging into her palms, heedless of the stinging wound in her hand. She turned her face upward and screamed, long, incoherent, full of rage. Her power burned through her body, humming in her ears, sizzling along her skin...
...but it wouldn’t bring him back.
She let the scream die off, its muffled echoes ringing across the foggy moor. When it faded, an awful emptiness replaced it. Tears surged up and began to flow down her cheeks. She gave a thin howl of misery and crumpled beside his body.
A hand descended on her shoulder. She flung out an arm to decimate her attacker.
Her blow never landed. “Sara, get up,” Faith murmured.
Dazed, Sara raised her head. “Faith?”
Her sister gave her arm a gentle tug. “You’ve got to get up. The ley line isn’t finished closing. Hakon says we have to go right now.”
Weary, chilled, Sara laid her head back down.
“Sara.” Faith’s voice rang through her throbbing skull, and she winced. “Get up right now. You’re pregnant.”
Shock. The return of her senses blasted her back to reality. She whimpered and curled into a ball, folding nerveless fingers over her belly.
Pregnant. The word knifed through her, and she ached. She couldn’t look at Ian’s body. He’s dead, oh God oh God oh God... She rolled and battled to her feet, groaning as her frozen muscles protested the movement. Faith wrapped a supporting arm around her, and a fresh onslaught of tears stung down Sara’s cheeks. Don’t look. Don’t look at him. Just walk. As they staggered away, she caught a flash of white from Ian’s T-shirt. Cutting off a mournful cry, she hugged her belly, and stumbled away with her sister into the fog.
She didn’t know how far they’d staggered when she saw someone approaching through the haze. She swayed, wrestling with her blind spot. “I can’t fight them, Faith. I have nothing left.”
They lurched forward, step by step, to meet whatever came.
Dustin materialized first, sweeping out of the fog in a long coat, with a knapsack and shotgun on his shoulder. He spotted Sara and her sister and shouted, “Lambertson!”
Lamb came out of the haze at a fast walk, which became a jog that overtook the younger man.
Sara turned her head to watch his approach with her good eye. He’s going to kill us, she thought, remembering Ian’s warning about Lamb’s involvement. She halted, swaying on her feet. Faith stopped beside her.
With an oath, Dustin drew to a stop several strides from where she and Faith stood. The shotgun remained on his shoulder.
Lamb reached them in another four running steps. Sara braced and raised her fists. She began sliding into unconsciousness even as a feeble rumble of defiance bubbled from her throat. Her knees buckled.
The older man caught her and swept her off her feet into his arms. The dizzying movement shook the last of her strength out of her. “Sara. Bloody hell! Dustin, radio the helicopter and get it down here. Now! Sara, darling, hold on...”
The waters of oblivion closed over her head once more.