Now she’s got the two cops’ attention. “Get off those chairs!” they demand as they charge toward us. Five of the kids step down, but the others refuse, which gives the cowards the courage to climb back up.
There’s a booming roar, and everyone’s attention turns to the Alpha. The Selkie is charging toward the Niners, all seven feet of him. I stand and drag my friends out of his path.
Terrance leaps in front of him. “Surf, you were told to expect this.”
Surf grabs him by the collar and yanks him off his feet. “Don’t call me that filthy bottom-feeder name. I am a Son of Selkie, and you should know better than to stand in my way,” he cries. His tone matches the disgust on his face.
Terrance is not shaken. “Selkie you may be, but you are but a pup who should respect the advice of your elders.”
“And you should know your place,” Surf barks. “You have grown arrogant living with the human trash.”
The hulking boy slaps Terrance in the face, and his whole body is jerked off the floor and launched across the room. He slams into a table with a horrible crash, knocking over chairs and then tumbling to the floor twenty yards from where he was standing.
There is a gasp in the room and then total silence. Even the cops are gob-smacked. It takes them several moments before they shake off their shock and remember to point their Tasers at the huge boy.
“Step back or I will Taser your dumb ass,” one of the cops threatens as he circles Surf.
Surf responds with another roar, this one sounding like a warning. One of the officers fires, and a dart attached to a long copper wire sticks into Surf’s chest. There’s a zap, but the boy seems unfazed.
“Shoot that ugly freak!” Svetlana cries from her chair.
Suddenly, Fathom is standing next to me. It doesn’t seem possible that he could have appeared without me noticing, but he’s there. He steps to Surf.
“Halt your challenge,” he demands. “These humans are fragile, Son of Selkie. They are also stupid. They talk without thinking. They do not see the consequences of their actions.”
Surf snarls. If he was angry before, now he’s apoplectic. “They insult us!”
“They are barnacles,” Fathom says dismissively.
Is that what he thinks of me? It must be. He’s staring right at me. I feel like socking him again.
“Leave them be,” he continues.
“So, the son is now the peacemaker? Does your father know you have chosen the humans over us?”
Fathom’s girlfriend appears in front of the titan, bringing a blast of wind in her wake. Her speed is incredible and explains how Fathom materialized out of nowhere.
“Your words are soaked in disrespect, Selkie. They will not go unanswered,” she says.
“A challenge I will be happy to accept, Arcade, once I’ve taken care of these bottom feeders,” Surf says, then turns back toward Svetlana and her gang. “Know this: today you taste your own blood.”
Arcade swings hard, crashing knuckles into Surf’s face. The giant steps backward several feet but stays on his feet. He shakes off his surprise, then charges again. This time I hear the click of blades erupting from Arcade’s forearms. Like Fathom’s, they are black, sharp, jagged, and eager to cause damage.
Surf turns his angry face to Fathom. “You would have your female fight for you? You are unworthy of your crown.”
“Your mouth is too big, Surf,” Arcade says. “It can’t hold back all the dumb things in your brain.”
“I will kill you,” he seethes.
“A perfect example,” she says, then leaps for the boy. Her fist catches his open mouth, and I hear the sound of breaking teeth. He staggers back, but not before her foot catches him in the gut. He’s twice her size, but Arcade’s beat-down is almost effortless. She raises her arm, and the blades come out again.
“Here is what happens when I am insulted,” she rages.
I gasp, knowing she intends to bury the tip in his chest.
“Stop this now!” Terrance shouts. He’s standing, by some miracle still alive. “You have mde promises to not draw blood in this school.”
Soldiers rush into the room with guns drawn and stern warnings. They circle Surf and Arcade and demand that the two of them back away from each other. A few others try to pull the students off the chairs, but the Niners kick and fight. Some have to be tackled to the floor, handcuffed, and violently dragged from the room, but it doesn’t stop their chant.
“GO HOME, FISH HEADS, GO HOME. GO HOME, FISH HEADS, GO HOME. GO HOME, FISH HEADS, GO HOME!”
As they drag Svetlana past me, she spits in my face. “We’ll get you, fish lover.”
I wipe the spittle from my cheek and look at it. She knows I’m meeting with Fathom—everyone knows. Terror enters my bloodstream. I’m trembling, nauseous, drowning in panic.
“Lyric Walker, are you well?” Fathom asks.
“I’m not—” A migraine slams into me like a truck. I have never experienced pain so sudden or so savage. Everything is red and molten. I’m blind. I hear a sickening crack, then realize it was the sound of my head slamming onto the marble floor.