He was, in fact, spitting mad, which put me in mind of the Tasmanian Devil spitting and whirling and taking down everything in his path. I had to stifle a smile at the thought, lest that path of destruction include me. “Why the hell didn’t you call,” he asked as he wound down, looking from me to Apollo to Neith. He didn’t turn that laser-like glance on Jessica, apparently afraid she’d crack. She looked that fragile. “We did,” Apollo said, calmly. “Check your messages.” “I didn’t get any messages,” he said. And just at that moment, we all heard his phone give a bleep. He yanked the phone off the holster at his hip to check and then looked up at us strangely. “It just came in.” Apollo and I exchanged a look. “Sunspots?” I asked. “Chaos,” he said, more ominously. “Oh, come on,” Nick said.
