The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,65
been burned pretty bad, but she won’t say how it happened. We’re losing time talking.”
Faith glanced at Sara. “Have you got the strength left to get Ian back to his camp?”
Sara hesitated. “I’m almost finished as it is. Any shapeshift big enough to carry him wouldn’t last long enough.”
“Are you hurt?” Ian turned to Faith. “What happened?”
“She’s tapped, and me, almost so. We’ve used too much of our power at once. Sara, can you get yourself there? Will you be able to drive the boat?”
Uneasily, Sara glanced southward, into the darkness. “A sparrow,” she murmured, “if I can fly in this wind.”
“All right, go,” said Faith. “Ian, I need you. Take her shovel and come with me. I’ll explain everything.”
Ian looked back at Sara. Another bolt of lightning sizzled above, and she saw worry on his face. He laid a hand against her cheek and kissed her, brief and fierce. An ache just as fierce rushed through her. “Come back safe.” He pulled the shovel from her hand and headed away with Faith.
She stared after him for a few seconds before realizing she was wasting time. Later. She would think about that look on his face later, because it had almost looked as if he didn’t want to let her out of his sight.
She sprang back into her tent long enough to douse the lantern, snatch her boat keys from the table, and stuff them in her pocket. Back outside, she called on the sparrow. For a few agonizing moments, she grappled to hold onto even that small demand on her power. The shape came in a flash that surprised her. She took off into the storm, fearful that she would lose the shape now that she had it.
The storm railed around her, hammering the small bird’s body with merciless power. She flew low, but even the lesser winds close to the ground forced her to fight for every inch of distance. She lost hold of the shapeshift fifty feet from Ian’s tent. Sara slipped out of the sparrow’s shape and into her human one, tumbling to the ground with a grunt of pain. She rolled to her feet and stumbled the rest of the way, then opened the tent door, dreading what she’d find.
Becky lurched off Ian’s cot and shrank back against the rear wall of the tent. She grappled for the rifle leaning against the table.
“Whoa, whoa!” Sara held up her hands and staggered into the tent. “I’m here to help. I’m taking you to the hospital—” She ground to a halt as her gaze landed on Becky’s face. Three blistering, russet burn marks crossed the redhead’s cheekbone. Another burn glared from her opposite forearm, blackish and peeling. “Oh, my God.”
Instead of speaking, the young woman dropped the rifle with a thump and began to cry. She fumbled for the bandage that had fallen to the cot and tried to rewrap her arm.
Moving closer, Sara took Becky’s chin in one gentle hand and turned it to see the burns on her cheek better. “This looks like...finger marks.” With her mind spinning, she glanced down at the woman’s arm. “What happened to you?”
Becky threw her off, shaking her head and sobbing harder.
Sara backed away a step. Part of her had trouble reconciling this tearful woman with the one who had tried breaking into her tent. Becky looked so...vulnerable. She saw why Ian had been moved to help her, and could do no less. “All right, all right. Don’t cry. We’re going to fix this. Come with me.”
Becky hunched backward, clearly unwilling to take one step out of the relative safety of Ian’s tent.
One of his windbreakers had been draped over a chair. Sara picked it up and eased it around the redhead’s shoulders. “I won’t let anyone hurt you—I promise—but we need to go now, if we’re going to get help for those injuries.” She glanced around the tent and found a protein bar lying on Ian’s nightstand. She snatched it up and unwrapped it, then took a large bite. She’d need the strength to steady the boat on the way to the hospital. The storm had lessened, but not by much.
It would be a long night, indeed.
“Come on,” she said, walking to the door.
Becky gave a shudder, but nodded and followed Sara outside.
Sara plodded along, rubber-kneed. She reached the boat by sheer stubborn will. “I may need you to drive it, if I lose consciousness.”
Becky’s brows shot up.
“I’ll be all right. It’s just exhaustion. I ran all the