Once I felt strong and dry enough, I used my walking stick to push myself up and plodded on. I’d been walking about thirty minutes when I stumbled across what looked like two ruts in the middle of the forest. I frowned. Did somebody have a house up here? That could be good or bad. Good, if they were gone and had a phone. Bad, if they were home and got a clear look at me.

But I stepped into the smooth track and headed left, climbing upward to whatever might lie at the top of this rise. I got all the way up to the clearing before I realized where I was—on the access road that overlooked Tobias Dawson’s coal mine. I could still see the tire tracks in the mud from where Donovan Caine and I had driven up here the night we’d broken into the dwarf ’s office. Hell, I was probably standing in about the same spot I’d been in when I’d stripped for the detective.

Irony. What a fucking bitch.

I shook my head and trudged on toward the edge of the ridge. Noise drifted up to me from the basin below.

Men yelling at each other, along with the grind of heavy machinery. I hobbled closer to the edge of the ridge and stared down. I wasn’t particularly surprised by the scurry of activity. Men and women, mostly firefighters, cops, and other rescue officials, stalked back and forth on the rocky floor below me. Some of them had driven their vehicles into the basin, and the red and blue lights spun around and around. The sirens had long ago been turned off, though. The people hung together in small clusters talking among themselves, but mostly what they did was stare at the mine before them.

Or what was left of it.

The right wall of the basin, which had once been just as tall and strong as the others, had crumbled in on itself, like a cheap piece of tinfoil. The entrance to the coal mine and the second, smaller shaft that led to the diamonds had been completely obliterated. Dirt had spilled hundreds of feet outside the original opening, burying the metal tracks that had led inside the mine. The whole side of the basin looked a sandcastle somebody had kicked over.

Me. I’d been the one who’d done the kicking. I’d used my magic to escape Tobias Dawson, and I’d crumbled half the mountain in the process. I’d always thought Jo-Jo Deveraux had been blowing smoke up my ass when she claimed I had more Stone magic than anyone she’d ever seen. That she’d just been pretending when she said I was even more powerful than she was. But as I stared at the shattered mountain, I really, truly, started to believe her.

The thought made my stomach clench.

“Damn,” I whispered.