Rogue Descendant (Nikki Glass) - By Jenna Black Page 0,83
sensitive subject matter we’d be discussing, a neutral site with witnesses was deemed unacceptable. Anderson was apparently through with letting Olympians set foot within the borders of his own personal territory, and so we were meeting at Cyrus’s house instead. Walking into the lion’s den and making accusations didn’t seem like the best idea to me, but Anderson hadn’t asked my opinion. He seemed closer to normal than he had the day before, able to speak in a natural tone of voice, but I still felt like I was in the presence of a bomb that could go off at the slightest provocation. All I had to do was think of what I’d seen in that clearing, and my desire to question Anderson’s decisions melted away.
Anderson didn’t have any pet Descendants he could take with him to keep the Olympians honest, but he was wary enough of them not to walk into Cyrus’s house completely “unarmed,” so Blake had the pleasure of coming with us. He couldn’t kill anybody, but he could make it so that all the bad guys were so overcome with lust for each other there wasn’t room in their brains for thoughts of attack. I didn’t get the feeling Blake was any happier to be going than I was, but he wasn’t stupid enough to argue with Anderson’s decisions, either.
Thanks to the snow, which showed no sign of melting anytime soon, we had to leave extra early if we hoped to make it to Cyrus’s house by our scheduled three o’clock appointment time. Anderson knew that as well as anybody, but he wasn’t ready to leave until almost two thirty. There was no question in my mind the delay had been deliberate and that he was making some kind of power play by making Cyrus wait.
I didn’t trust Anderson’s mood, but when he announced he was driving, I once again didn’t feel up to arguing with him. Blake and I shared a doubtful look as we followed him out to the garage; then we both shrugged our acceptance. It wasn’t like a car accident would kill us anyway.
The drive was excruciating. All but the main roads were a mess, and there was the usual collection of idiots out who mistakenly thought they knew how to drive in the snow. We did a lot of stopping and starting and threading our way around stranded motorists, then had the always-enjoyable situation of being stuck behind a salt truck.
The ride was made just that much more unpleasant by the tense silence in the car. Anderson was in no mood to make conversation, and his presence was like an oppressive blanket, weighing us down. Blake dealt with the tension by incessantly cracking his knuckles until I turned around and gave him a pointed look. I don’t think Anderson even noticed the effect he was having on us.
Parking on the street in Georgetown is a pain in the butt on any day, but it was well-nigh impossible with the snow. The streets in the heart of the city had been cleared, but that meant there were mountains of dirty snow lining the curbs, blocking off a large percentage of what would ordinarily be parking spaces. Anderson didn’t even bother cruising in search of one, instead pulling into a garage.
Blake was out of the car almost before it had come to a full stop. I took my life into my hands and touched Anderson’s arm as he was turning the car off.
“Are you going to be all right?” I asked him softly.
He looked at me and blinked a couple of times, as if he didn’t quite know what I was talking about. Then he frowned. “I’m in control of myself, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m still angry, but I’m not going to do anything rash. Come on. I think we’ve kept Cyrus waiting long enough.”
We were back to uncomfortable silence as the three of us walked from the garage to Cyrus’s house, now more than a half hour late. Anderson rang the bell, and moments later, the door was opened by a middle-aged man in a stuffy suit. I should have known better than to expect Cyrus to answer his own door. Even having grown up with the ultrarich Glasses, I’d never visited a house that had a butler before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.
“Mr. Galanos has been expecting you,” the butler said with just a touch of reproof in his voice. “May I take your coats?”