The Serpent in the Stone - By Nicki Greenwood Page 0,66
way up here.” When Becky answered with a look full of questions, Sara bit her tongue. She turned aside to pull back the boat cover. No time—and no idea where to start—for explaining how she’d raced almost a mile to get to Ian’s tent.
The ocean raged. She wondered how on earth she and Becky were going to get to the mainland in this tempest. Better that than linger on the island, but she worried about Ian and Faith every second she was away from them.
She and Becky hadn’t gotten very far into open water before Mother Nature made good on her promised ferocity. The boat pitched to and fro like a child’s plaything. Sara clenched her fists on the steering wheel and called on her power again, using telekinesis to stabilize the craft as best she could. It had scarcely any effect against the tumult. Her head swam. Lights danced before her vision. She couldn’t lose it now. What would happen to Ian and Faith if she didn’t get back to the island?
Becky stretched a bandaged arm toward her. The redhead’s hand clapped over her own on the wheel. A surge of power ran through Sara’s hand, and the boat steadied in the churning water. She looked up in amazement.
Becky’s eyes were silver.
Sara passed out.
****
Light. Silence. No rain. Am I dead? Sara struggled to make sense of her surroundings. “Becky?”
A white-coated figure ducked into her frame of vision. The bleary image resolved into a smiling brunette. “Hello, there. You had us worried.”
“Becky,” she said again. Her head reeled with jumbled images of the Viking sword, Faith, lightning, and Ian. She sucked in a defiant breath and forced herself into a sitting position. “Where is she?”
“You should get more rest. Can you tell me your name?”
Sara felt the shivery influx of her powers beginning to return. Some of her strength came with them. “Where is Becky? I need to see her.”
“Miss, please get a little more rest. You were very dehydrated—”
An alarm beeped, and the hospital P.A. system kicked on. “Code Blue, Unit One-Four. Code Blue, Unit One-Four—”
The nurse moved toward the door. “I have to leave. We have an emergency on the unit. If you need anything, you can put your call light on, and one of the aides will respond as soon as possible.”
Sara nodded as if this sort of thing happened to her every day. The nurse hurried from the room.
As soon as the woman was out of sight, Sara swung her legs out of the bed. She wore a hospital gown. An IV tube had been attached to the back of her hand. She touched her fingers to her throat.
Her bare throat.
Trying not to panic, she ripped the IV out of her hand, then launched herself out of bed. Her clothes were nowhere to be seen. She wondered with a thudding heart whether they’d gotten rid of the amulet, too. What the hell had happened when she passed out?
She crept into the hall, but it looked like everyone had raced off to handle the emergency. The woman at the nurse’s station was on a call. Sara crept around the desk for a peek.
The amulet rested on top of a phone book with its leather lace coiled around the stone pendant. Sara’s breath spilled out of her in rushed relief. She picked it up with a silent prayer of thanks, and looped it back over her head.
Now what? She paused, uncertain, expecting the nurse’s station attendant to see her and chivvy her back to her room.
A nurse emerged from a staff room down the hall, and hurried away in the opposite direction. Making sure no one noticed, Sara eased into the room and closed the door.
Phew. Now the little matter of the hospital gown.
She found an open locker and—oh, thank God—a folded set of scrubs within. Once changed, she ducked out of the room and started down the hall.
She found a directory listing the location of the burn unit, then followed the signs to another wing of the hospital. Becky’s name wasn’t on the board at the burn unit’s main desk; not surprising, if she hadn’t been able to speak. Sara snatched a lab coat from its hook in another staff lounge, then proceeded to check each room as she went down the hall. Some of the patients looked up in curiosity as she passed, and she murmured greetings that she hoped sounded professional. Any second, someone on staff would fail to recognize her, or notice her lack