The Serpent in the Stone

CHAPTER Eight

A day later, James Lambertson arrived with more crew. Sara and her sister had been working three hours already when Alan Flintrop appeared at the site. Sara, standing at the edge of the dig trench, saw him first. With everything else going on at the site, she’d forgotten about Flintrop and his history of project-stealing.

Well, if he thought he’d be stealing this one, he had a rude awakening coming to him. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, not bothering to keep the venom out of her voice.

Faith’s head popped up over the edge of the trench. “I knew it,” she hissed.

Flintrop came to a halt when he reached them, looking regal and golden-haired like a lion holding court over his pride. He peered at them over the top of his sunglasses. “Good morning to you, too, ladies.”

Sara vibrated with resentment. Don’t call me “lady,” you pompous jerk. At thirty-five, Flintrop wasn’t much more of a veteran than she or Faith, but he had the advantage of learning archaeology at the knees of his father and grandfather. The Flintrop family profession had earned him worldwide respect and admiration. She hated him for it.

“It’s ‘Doctor’ to you, bucko,” Faith muttered from the trench. Her sister jammed her shovel into the earth and heaved a chunk into the wheelbarrow standing nearby.

Sara struggled to stifle a smile and lost.

Flintrop removed his sunglasses to reveal cobalt-blue eyes that had charmed many a female student in the field. “Hello, Faith,” he said in a tone far too intimate for a muddy dig site.

Faith pitched her next shovel of earth out of the trench and onto Flintrop’s designer hiking boot. “Sorry about that. Guess I better brush up on my dig skills.”

Flintrop shook the dirt off his boot with an unruffled air and turned his attention on Sara. “Lambertson said you’d need money on this project. I’m the money.”

Sara couldn’t resist asking about his latest stolen project. “What happened to your South America dig?”

He had enough grace to look abashed. “That wasn’t my decision. I gave you a good word with the board. Several, actually. You were very thorough.”

Praise from Flintrop? That was new. “Thank you,” she said, working to keep it from sounding like a question.

He smiled again. “I’ll be setting up. Lambertson’s brought some computer data for you when you’re ready to look at it.” He walked away.

“Jackass,” grumbled Faith.

Sara jumped down into the trench with a chuckle. “You dated him.”

“A momentary lapse of reason on my part,” spat her sister. “Now we’re going to have to deal with him all summer. Does Lamb hate us?”

Sara sighed. “Well, he’s right. We need money, if this is going to be as big as we think it is. As far as I’m concerned, he’s welcome to be the wallet, as long as he stays out of my way.”

Faith shrugged and continued digging.

A few moments later, Lambertson came to the trench. “I have to say, I’m impressed, girls.”

At the sound of his voice, Sara surged out of the trench with her sister close behind. Lambertson was handsome in middle age, with steel-gray hair and pale blue eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. He had the aristocratic air of the consummate British gentleman, even when grinning broadly as he did now.

She broke into an answering smile. She’d been too well-trained to throw her arms around his neck and hug him as she’d done in childhood, but the impulse had never waned. She settled for a handshake. “How was your trip, Lamb?”

“Beastly,” he answered.

Faith embraced him. “It’s good to see you. Not so much, who you brought with you.”

Lambertson chuckled and patted her back, then turned and surveyed the dig. His gaze swept over the surveying level on its tripod, the markers punched into the ground at each plot, and the deepening trench of the excavation. “Excellent,” he said at last, giving them each a satisfied look. “You’re doing your father proud.”

“This is more than a summer’s work,” Sara said. “There’s a lot left to do.”

“Which is why I made the decision to bring in Flintrop,” he said on a sigh. “I know you’d have liked to handle it yourselves, but this is going to involve more work and better financing than Gemini alone can provide.”

“You don’t need to explain,” replied Sara, waving a hand.

The corner of Lambertson’s mouth turned up. “I know you’re angry, Sara. Rest assured, you and Faith will receive top billing when the project is finished. This isn’t going to be like South America.”

Relief poured into her. Lamb knew her too well.

“By the by,” he added, “I noticed another tent when we landed. Which belongs to...?”

“Ian Waverly. He’s a wildlifer for the university, working with the birds on the island. It has nothing to do with the dig.”

Lamb eyed her, but didn’t comment. She felt the full force of his pale blue stare, and worried that he saw more than she’d let on. “Better get back to work,” she said brightly, and jumped back into the trench.

Phew.

Within half an hour, Lamb’s reinforcements had blended smoothly into the rhythm of the project. With so much help, Sara had to admit that work progressed at a blinding pace. The air hummed with their collective energy. She’d almost forgotten how much fun fieldwork could be.

Lamb and Flintrop had brought four assistants between them. Sara knew almost all of them. Cameron Leone, an undergraduate and the crew’s youngest member, hailed her from the trench with a bright smile. She waved back. “Nice to see you again, Cam. How are classes?”

“Good,” he said. “Thanks a ton for that book on the Incas. Got an A on the report. I officially love you forever.”

“Anytime.” She grinned and went on to meet the other arrivals, putting aside her professional differences with Flintrop in the face of teamwork. Easier when she wasn’t talking to Flintrop.

She stopped when she came to a petite woman with a mane of fiery red curls. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

The young woman’s hands slipped on her shovel. It dropped against a nearby wheelbarrow with a clang. “Oh! Sorry.” She snatched the shovel up again, then smiled and shook Sara’s hand. “Becky Palmeter. I’ve heard a lot about you. I did my senior thesis on one of your digs.”

“Are you postgrad?”

“Is it that obvious?”

With a chuckle, Sara answered, “You still have that deer-in-the-headlights look. I had it, too. Are you with Lamb or Flintrop?”

“Lambertson would be a relief. I’m with Flintrop,” Becky said. “He’s always scowling at me. I feel like whatever I do is wrong.”

“I’m sure your work is fine,” Sara said, feeling sympathy for the woman. “Half the battle is not letting him intimidate you.”

“Who ordered the swarm?” came a male voice.

Ian stood at the edge of the dig. Flutters rushed through Sara’s insides, up, down, and back again. “Hi.”

He gestured down into the trench with a question in his eyes.

“Lamb’s cavalry. Come down. Becky, this is Ian Waverly. He’s a wildlife biologist who’s here to work with the birds. Ian, Becky Palmeter. She’s one of our new recruits,” Sara added, then smiled at the redhead.

He shook Becky’s hand when he reached them. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Ian turned his attention to Sara. “I need to make a run to Unst for some supplies. Can I borrow your boat?”

“Sure. The keys are on the table in my tent.”

“Want me to bring something back for you?”

Warmth filled her body. Not so long ago, she wouldn’t have dreamed he’d be so thoughtful to her. Now...

Well, now she ought to be keeping her mind off dreaming about him and on her job.

As hard as that was.

“Coffee,” she said briskly. “If I don’t get more coffee, this project is going to come to a screeching halt.”

He grinned at her, and she knew he was thinking of their mutual love of Waverly’s secret blend. “One large bag of caffeinated goodness. Check.”

Lambertson approached them. “Sara, where did you—” He stopped when he saw Ian. “You must be Mister Waverly.”

“Yes, sir,” Ian replied, shaking his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Lambertson’s gaze swept Ian’s figure from head to foot in what Sara thought was a look of scrutiny. “You’re here for wildlife?”

Ian didn’t seem bothered by Lambertson’s evaluation. “Yes. I’m studying coastal birds on the north end of the island.”

“Waverly, you lucky son of a bitch!” chortled another voice.

Ian peered over Lamb’s shoulder at the man jogging toward them. “Lu! How’d you land a gig like this?”

Luis Rivero clapped Ian on the back. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Sara raised her brows. How, indeed.

“I pulled some strings at the university,” explained Ian. To Lambertson he added, “Luis is the reason I’ve heard so much about you. He talks about your work nonstop.” He turned again to Sara. “Thanks for the boat. I’ll catch up with you later.” He went to the edge of the trench and climbed out.

“Coffee!” Sara called after him. “Lots of it!”

Walking away, Ian waved a hand in the air to indicate that he’d heard.

When Sara spotted Lambertson, the smile vanished from her face. “What?”

Her mentor surveyed Ian’s retreating figure. “How long is he going to be here?”

“I don’t know, another month. Lamb, he isn’t going to interfere. He’s not interested in what’s going on down here.”

Lamb made a doubtful noise and walked away. Luis went with him.

Becky stared after Ian. “Wow. Maybe I should have gone into wildlife.”

Prickles danced across Sara’s shoulders. She picked up a stray shovel and tried to sound amiable. “I’ll see you around the dig. It was nice meeting you,” she murmured, then strode off.

At sunset, the entire crew gathered around a fire. Sara sat cross-legged beside it with her sister, discussing the project. She was in the middle of a lament about not finding any artifacts yet when she noticed Faith wasn’t paying attention. Sara prodded her. “What’s the matter?”

Faith snapped out of it and leaned toward her. “I’ve spent the past two days reading the books Dad had in with the Shetland research. In Beardsley, I came across something about—”

“Good day’s work,” interrupted Flintrop, sitting down on Sara’s other side.

Faith sank into reticence. Her mouth pinched like someone had just force-fed her minced leeches.

Sara hunched her shoulders. “Yeah. You, too.”

When Faith touched her arm, Sara turned away from Flintrop. Her sister made an urgent face.

Sara gave an imperceptible nod and called on her power. From where they sat, the others would not be able to tell her eyes had changed. She released her hold on mind reading.

A serpent ceremony, Faith told her silently, performed by a religious order that manipulated the ley lines for some kind of ritual. If I’m right, and the amulet is part of it, the man in the white robes may have been a druid.

Faith’s explanation was overlaid with the disturbing image of her vision from the amulet. Sara saw a large blond man drive a sword through another man’s belly. Blood pooled around the sword hilt, staining the victim’s white robes. She recoiled in surprise.

“Are you all right?” came Flintrop’s voice.

Sara shifted where she sat, and blinked to shut off her power. “I must have been sitting on a stone.”

He studied her. “Did you do something with your hair?”

Faith made a noise of disgust and got to her feet. “I’m going to my tent. I’ll see you in the morning, Sara.”

Sara smiled and said good night, even though every fiber of her being was suddenly and instantly begging, Please don’t leave me with him if you love me at all, you traitor! There weren’t too many times she wished Faith could read her mind in return, but now might have topped the list.

Flintrop cleared his throat. “I know we haven’t gotten on very well, Sara, but I do respect your work. I don’t want you to hold South America against me.”

She nodded in the direction of Faith’s tent. “I think my sister holds it against you more than I do.”

He sighed and tipped his flask again. “Faith and I never quite saw eye-to-eye on things.”

“Is that what you call it?” Sara muttered.

“Look, I saw the reports that came back to Eurocon so far on this job, and they’re brilliant. I’m not supposed to tell you, but Lambertson was even talking to Oxford about getting you a seminar, if this is as big as we think it’ll be.”

She gaped. “Really?”

“It’s too early yet to make any sort of decision, obviously, but he was serious, and so am I. I back him one hundred percent. You deserve to get the credit on this.” He smiled. “Call it my apology for South America.”

She didn’t know what to say. Gemini needed just the sort of publicity a seminar would promote.

Then again, credit for the dig wasn’t his to give. What had seemed an expansive gesture began to smack of empty bribery. “You want something.”

He chuckled. “I always did like your directness.”

“You don’t throw bones without expecting something back, Flintrop. What is it?”

He touched her hand, only briefly, but she froze. “I want to be friends. Ever since I’ve known you, you’ve been running a race with me to see who’s the best of the best. You don’t need to prove yourself, Sara. I already know you’re talented.”

She shot him a scathing look. “I’m not proving anything to you.”

“All right, that came out wrong. What I’m trying to say is, we’ve been working at odds with each other so long, it will be a nice change to work together on this project. With your skill and my resources, we’re going to blow the lid off this thing.”

She scrutinized him. He looked so enthusiastic, he almost convinced her he meant it. Then she noticed the way he leaned toward her...exactly the posture he’d presented to Faith while trying to seduce her in South America. Sara had enough experience—reading minds or not—to know that body language often gave away people’s true intentions, no matter what came out of their mouths. She jerked backward with an uncomfortable ooze of dismay.

So much for goodwill.

A bag of coffee with a Waverly’s label descended into the gap between them. Sara beamed and looked up.

Dangling the bag, Ian grinned down at her. “Saved from imminent sleepiness. This is from my private stash, I’ll have you know. I took pity.”

Delighted, she accepted the coffee. “Thank you.”

“The keys are back in your tent. Thanks for the loaner.”

Flintrop stiffened. “I take it you’re the wildlifer.”

Ian nodded. She noticed he didn’t bother offering his handshake. Impeccable timing and impeccable judge of character.

Then Ian turned his attention back to her, and his indifferent mask relaxed. “I brought you something else. I had a sweet tooth, so I made an emergency side trip.” With a triumphant smile, he rummaged in his jacket pocket and withdrew a small paper bag.

She took the bag and opened it. Cinnamon drops. Pleasure swarmed through her. “I was almost out, too. How did you know?”

His smile was all genial charm, but something passed through his eyes that flushed her body with heat. Her memory shot back to searing kisses and skin on skin. She couldn’t look at him, afraid that everyone could tell what was going on in her head. How could they not tell, when her thoughts were so loud?

“Know anything of archaeology, Waverly?” asked Flintrop.

Ian shrugged. “I’m familiar with the digging part.”

“Ian spent part of a day helping us dig peat,” Sara said, still distracted by the way her thoughts kept snapping back to the afternoon in Ian’s tent.

“I’m sure that was enough to turn you off of archaeology altogether,” said Flintrop.

Ian didn’t look away from Sara. “Not entirely, no.”

“Well, we’re fully staffed now, so we won’t be taking up your time any longer. I’m sure you have plenty of your own work to do,” Flintrop added. He gave a plastered-on smile, then turned away from Ian and went back to tipping his brandy.

Sara stood. “Would you excuse us?” Without waiting for Flintrop’s answer, she started away. Ian walked with her to her tent. “Sorry about him.”

“Who is that guy?”

She sighed. “Alan Flintrop. I’m going to be working with him for the rest of the summer. I know he’s a pain in the—”

“No, he’s great. Must have tons of friends.”

“Sure, if they’re wealthy enough to be in his little club of worshippers.” She waved her hand in the air. “That’s not the point. We need his help on this project if we’re going to get done on time and within budget...and why am I explaining this to you? You don’t care.”

He stepped closer to her, causing her to back up in surprise against the wall of her tent. His eyes bored into hers, as focused as a hunting raptor. “Oh, I care...just not about him.”

Her heart thudded in her ears. Could he hear it? He bent his head. His breath warmed her face, and she leaned forward to close the distance, because for the love of God, it wasn’t happening fast enough...

“Sara, may I have a word with you?”

Ian jerked back with his face completely blank. Lambertson stood nearby. Sara felt her face burn, and passed Ian a guilty look. “I—”

He smiled. “Don’t sweat it. I have some birding notes to catch up on. I’ll see you later.” He turned and headed up the slope of the island. She watched him until he disappeared into the darkness, even now wishing him back. A charge of desire coursed through her and left her shivering with aftershock. How? How, when he hadn’t even kissed her?

Lambertson approached her with an expression that made her feel like a wayward teenager. “I would venture to say he’s distinctly interested in what’s going on down here.”

She gawked. “Are you being parental with me?”

“I am telling you to the point. I don’t trust that young man, and I don’t want him here. This project is confidential. His presence is a liability.”

“Come on, Lamb—”

His frown cut her off. “I am the project supervisor, Sara. Don’t make me employ that authority.”

He’d never used that tone on her before, even during her undergrad years. Hurt, she zipped open her tent flap and stepped inside, shutting it before he could say anything further.

****

Several days after Lamb’s reinforcements arrived, the peat and earth gave way to the first layer of stone marking the enclosure of their suspected Viking-era house. Sara couldn’t feel more than a distant pleasure at the milestone. She hadn’t seen Ian in almost a week. Whenever she found the time, Lamb managed to concoct a task that kept her at the dig. Moody and restless, she worked beside Faith at one of the plots.

“Now all we need from this mudpit is an artifact, and we’re in business,” said Faith.

Her sister seemed to have enough good spirits for both of them lately. Sara offered a smile and went back to scooping earth. Seconds passed.

At length, Faith hissed, “Quit moping and go see him. You’re a grown woman.”

Needled, Sara redoubled her efforts at removing soil from the house wall. “Lamb’s already made it abundantly clear what he thinks of Ian. We can’t afford to lose this project.”

Flintrop approached. “We’re having a bonfire tonight to celebrate,” he announced. “I’m heading to Unst this afternoon for some aqua vitae, if you’d like to come.” He spoke to both of them, but his attention hovered on Sara.

Faith leveled him with a revolted look and moved away. He ignored it.

Sara stood and stretched her back. “Why don’t you take one of your own crew?”

“Because,” he said, moving closer and lowering his tone, “I’d really like you to come with me. Please? What’s it going to take for you to accept my apology?”

Lamb’s voice rose from the other side of the dig, hailing them all to midday break. Members of the crew shuffled off in the direction of the summons, leaving them alone.

Sara walked away and climbed onto the stone wall, preparing to jump down and follow the crew to lunch. “I don’t think—”

The earth roared under her feet. With a shriek, she lost her balance and toppled headfirst down the other side of the wall. A fissure tore open and yawned beneath her.

A hand seized her ankle. She jerked to a stop above the crack in the earth. The amulet slithered from under her shirt and dangled from her neck over the crevasse. Sara gasped and clapped it to her chest. Open space gaped below her. The land thundered again. Flintrop’s grip slipped on her ankle, and she screamed.

“Pull yourself up!” Flintrop shouted.

One-handed, she clawed at the ragged walls of the trench, refusing to let go of the amulet. Panic stabbed her.

And then she saw it.

At the bottom of the fissure lay a human skull, half-buried in the dark soil. She froze. I’ll be damned.

Flintrop’s grasp slipped again. “Sara! Give me your hand!”

Another tremor issued from the earth.

Sara jackknifed her body and flung her free hand toward him. He seized her and jerked her out of the fissure just as part of the wall collapsed into it.

They ran for the edge of the dig and dove over the wall on the other side to a last, teeth-chattering quake.

The land settled.

Sara stuffed the amulet back inside her shirt, praying no one had seen it. She got to her feet, then hunched over with her hands on her knees, panting.

“Are you all right?” he asked. He glanced from her to the yawning tear in the earth.

She nodded. “Thanks.”

Lamb came running toward them with Luis in tow. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No,” she answered.

“Someone had better go check on Ian,” suggested Luis.

“I will,” she said before anyone else could reply.

Lamb shook his head. “Luis and Alan will go.”

She opened her mouth on a burst of indignation. Lamb had never countermanded her in front of a team before. In front of Flintrop, it was a slap in the face. “Lamb, I know him.”

“As does Luis, which is why I’m sending him. They will see to Mister Waverly. I want you here.”

Her blood boiled. Humiliated and worried, she stalked away toward the rest of the crew.

She heard Lamb order Luis and Flintrop away, and then Lamb’s hurried footsteps as he caught up with her. He settled a hand on her shoulder.

She rounded on him. “How could you do that to me? Ian is my friend. Ever since you got here, you’ve been acting like—”

“Exactly as your father would have acted, had he known your house had been burglarized. What were they looking for?”

She stilled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t be obstinate. You and I both know it wasn’t a chance occurrence. Your mother contacted me and said your father’s stored research was decimated, a fact which I find curious when you and your sister are out of the country in Shetland itself. How well do you know this ‘friend,’ Sara?”

She struggled to maintain her calm. “It wasn’t him. How could it be, when he’s been here?”

“I don’t take coincidence lightly. That young man followed you here. He knows something, and I want to know what it is.”

With an effort, she kept her features neutral. Ian knew something, all right. Something she’d been hiding for twenty years, and God forbid the secret got any further.

She and Faith couldn’t afford to trust anyone. Even Lamb, who’d been like a father. She stifled a queasy sensation in her gut. “Ian has nothing to do with this dig.”

“I very much doubt that,” said Lamb.

She forced her temper past the guilt. “Believe it, or don’t—I don’t care. But if you think upstaging me in front of Flintrop is going to bring me to heel, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Lambertson looked stunned. “I had no intention of doing any such thing. I’m trying to protect—”

“I do not need protection.” She spun on her heel and stormed away.