THE SILENCE OF THE STONES: Will the secrets written in the stones destroy a young woman's world? The runes are cast. Who will die? by Bryn Rebecca

Author:Bryn, Rebecca [Bryn, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Published: 2014-07-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Bony fingers gripped Alana’s hand as she struggled to find a foothold. The face staring down at her willed her to hold on. Earth and rock came loose beneath her feet, gorse scratched her cheek.

‘Hold on, Alana.’ Panic edged the voice.

She gripped Bramble beneath her arm, clenched her fingers tighter as the surf pounded the rocks beneath her, and looked up. Rhiannon’s mouth formed a slow smile and the fingers gripping her loosened their hold. Air rushed past her as she fell; her muscles spasmed and she woke with a start.

4 am. Cold sweat bathed her body and her heart hammered. She was safe… safe. Rhiannon had saved her life. She threw on a dressing-gown and went downstairs to make tea but the smile on Rhiannon’s face refused to fade. Why would she dream that? It was irrational.

She took the tea into the living room and sank onto the settee. It was delayed shock: she’d almost died. The reality hit her. She could have died without making her peace with Dad, without seeing Mum and Saffy again, without telling Tony she loved him. Without seeing Greg and Maddy. She could have left the people she loved thinking she didn’t care about them. It was time she faced her responsibilities and stopped acting like a spoiled child the world owed a living.

Her fine vee-chisel lay where she’d dropped it the night before. The cold metal had a feel of reality: calming, purposeful. The childlike forms that represented Mannaz emerged slowly from their stone sarcophagus, freed to dance with the joy of life she’d almost lost, the joy of life Nerys Reece had stolen from Cadi and Bethan.

She swapped the chisel for a file and worked on, going down through the grades, finer and finer as daylight fingered through the gap in the curtains. She wiped a dusty hand across her brow: another element of the mock-up was finished. Its inspiration was Cadi and Bethan, and it was her best work yet.

She’d showered and dressed by the time a knock came at the door: the tall police officer stood on the doorstep.

‘Miss Harper. How are you?’’

She stood back to let him. ‘Is this about Cadi?’

‘We’ve had your DNA results. There wasn’t a match. The bones we found don’t belong to Cadi.’

‘So it’s Bethan.’

‘We’re still waiting to hear about the DNA we have on file for Nerys Reece, but I thought you’d want to know.’

‘Thank you. Not Cadi. I don’t know whether to be relieved.’

‘It isn’t easy not knowing. I don’t know how families live with the uncertainty, year after year. If there’s anything I can do…’

‘No… Just let me know when you get the other results, if you’re allowed. Greg, Bethan’s younger brother… He’s a friend.’

‘Of course. I’ll let you know once the family have been informed.’

She let him out and made coffee. Nursing the mug between her hands she stared at the finished carving. Bethan was dead, there was little doubt of it now, the bones had to be hers,

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