Free Carved in Stone by Kate Douglas

close enough for him to feel her warmth through his shirt, so close he could breathe the air she exhaled.
    Alex braced herself on her elbows and eased her camera over the rough edge of the cliff, moving carefully to avoid dislodging any loose gravel. Hands steady, she focused her largest telephoto lens on the drug smugglers below.
    Nate’s respect for Alex’s skill and daring moved up another notch. She took her pictures with cool precision and steady hands, her lips pressed tightly together in a grim line.
    Duke fired another volley of shots at the cliff.
    Alex shot back, snapping picture after picture.
    Suddenly, she pulled the camera away from her face and stared at the scene below and cursed. “Holy shit.”
    “What? What’s going on?” Nate dug his binoculars out of his pack, hastened by the shock on Alex’s face. She lifted the camera back up to her eye and he realized she was using the telephoto lens as a spyglass.
    “My God,” he whispered. “Where did they find those?” Through his binoculars, Nate could see Duke arranging a collection of what appeared to be brightly colored ceramic bowls along the ground near the chopper. With a sinking feeling he realized the man was going to use them as targets.
    “We’ve got to stop him. Those pots could be priceless.” Alex grabbed Nate’s arm. “They might give us a clue to the Spirit Walkers. We can’t let him destroy them!”
    Nate watched in stunned disbelief as the man raised the rifle to his shoulder.
    “You idiot! Stop!” Shouting, the cowboy ran out from under the ledge, followed closely by the third man. “Those could be worth more than this entire load of grass. If you have to shoot something, shoot the damned cliff, but don’t break those pots.”
    Cowboy and the other man carefully picked up the pots and carried them to the helicopter.
    Nate breathed a sigh of relief.
    The relief was short-lived. Duke fired another volley of shots at the cliff. Without warning, Alex doubled over in pain.
    “What is it? Are you hit? Alex?”
    She clutched her midsection, moaning in apparent agony. Her face was a chalky gray green. Nate pried her clenched fingers away from her stomach, fearing the worst.
    There was no sign of blood.
    The gunfire stopped. Alex blinked and sat up.
    “What happened?” Nate quickly studied her eyes. Other than slightly dilated pupils they were as clear and brilliantly blue as the sea. He touched her throat. Her pulse beat a strong tattoo against his fingers, but her color had returned to normal.
    She smiled at Nate while he checked her pulse, a bemused expression that transformed her face.
    “He shot one of the glyphs.” The sense of awe in her voice startled Nate. “He hit one of the carvings on the cliff below us, I felt its pain.”
    “Don’t do this to me, Alex.” Nate looked around the clearing, almost expecting to see strange creatures crawling out of the rocks. “You must have been hit with flying rock. Let me take a look at your belly.”
    “I was lying on my belly, Nate. How could I get hit with flying rock? I’m serious. He shot one of the glyphs, and I felt it. Weird, huh?”
    “More than weird. Impossible. C’mon, let’s get out of here. I want to get to the radio and call Roger. Maybe they can organize a raid before these guys take off. I don’t want to lose those pots.”
    “What about the drugs?”
    “Pot’s legal for a large portion of California’s population. Let the authorities worry about the drugs. Those clay pots could be more important than the glyphs. They could help us identify who left the carvings. We can’t risk losing them.”
    “It’s so nice to see you concerned about my well-being.” Grinning, Alex rubbed her hand over her midsection, then began to gather her scattered equipment.
    Nate laughed. She was one tough lady. “I am concerned. That’s why I want us to get our butts out of here.”
    “Okay.” She paused, her expression suddenly serious. “I really did feel something,