snow anywhere in the clearing, as if someone had come out here and gone to work with a snow blower, doing such a thorough job of it that all you could see was grass. That was weird as hell, but it wasn’t what took my breath away.
Mouth gaping open, I continued forward until my feet left the snow, blinking a couple of times as if that might make what I saw go away.
I said there were “a bunch” of trees down. Now that I was in the clearing proper, I could see that there were dozens down. Some had been torn up by the roots, and some had snapped in two. Not a single tree that had fronted the clearing was left upright. And the weirdest thing of all? They had all fallen away from the clearing. Almost like a bomb had gone off in the center.
Jamaal stood beside me, his arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the sight. He must have smoked that cigarette in record time, but I had to admit, if I were a smoker, I’d have been diving for the cigs myself.
“What the hell happened here?” I whispered, my words steaming in the brisk air.
Jamaal swallowed hard. “There was a loud noise in the middle of the night. Woke me up and shook the bed under me.”
I remembered. “I thought it was thunder,” I murmured.
“I did, too, at the time.”
I was pretty sure I had at least a clue of what had happened. Or at least who had happened. Anderson had made himself into a walking, talking automaton in his effort to contain his fury over what Emma had done. He had promised me he would be more like himself when we met with Cyrus today, and the only way that was possible was if he let out some of that repressed fury. I had the distinct feeling we were looking at the results right now.
Jamaal didn’t know what I did about Anderson’s origins, but his mind was obviously traveling similar paths.
“No one knows who Anderson is descended from,” he said. “I don’t know why he’s so mysterious about it, but he is. I’ve never seen him do anything other than that trick with his hand. I have no idea what he’s capable of. What I do know is that none of the rest of us are capable of this.” He indicated the clearing with a sweep of his hand.
I didn’t know what Anderson was capable of, either, although I knew more than Jamaal. “If he has a power that lets him do this, I’m just as happy he keep it and any other powers he might have under wraps.”
Jamaal grunted something that might have been an agreement.
“You think we should ask him about this?” I asked.
Jamaal gave me a look of disbelief. “You go right ahead. Just tell me when you’re going to do it so I can arrange to be in the next county over.”
Okay, it had been a dumb question. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that Anderson would not be open to discussion about whatever had happened out here. And even if he had vented some of his fury last night, he wasn’t exactly going to be in a good mood in the foreseeable future. Asking him questions he didn’t want to answer would be a poor survival tactic.
“I don’t want to be there when he confronts Cyrus,” I said. “Not that I have a choice.”
I wished he’d at least given himself a couple of days to absorb everything and calm down as much as he could before squaring off with someone who could start a war that could kill every one of Anderson’s Liberi if he wanted to.
“He’ll keep a lid on it,” Jamaal assured me, not very convincingly.
“Uh-huh.”
I sure as hell hoped he did, despite my skepticism. Because if Anderson let loose whatever it was he’d let loose in this clearing, I didn’t think anyone near him, even immortal Liberi, would survive.
NINETEEN
As a general rule, Olympians seem to have a taste for palatial homes set on acres of land in the most upscale of neighborhoods. Cyrus, however, lived in an impressive brownstone in Georgetown, perhaps too much of a city boy to enjoy the comforts of a country estate. I had driven by the place before when I’d been investigating Olympian properties, but now I was going to have an up-close-and-personal look at the interior. I wasn’t what you’d call thrilled at the prospect.
Because of the