Fathom nods. I can see it touches him.
Fathom and I run to rejoin Ghost and the others. My heart is louder than my footfalls when we arrive, but I try to look brave for them. Arcade is waiting. I shake my head at her, hoping she knows that whatever he and I were, whatever potential that might have grown and blossomed, has been pulled out at the root. If she understands, it doesn’t seem to give her any comfort. She would kill me if there weren’t two armies about to do it first. She takes Fathom in her arms and kisses him.
“The Rusalka have arrived,” Braken shouts, lifting his fist into the air. “Take your positions.”
The order spreads down the beach, and cheers rise up as it goes. Then I watch as the Alpha crawl into their trenches and tunnels. Soon, any evidence that they even exist is gone. All that’s left behind is us, a small group of oddities, both human and Alpha, acting as easy targets for two war machines.
“Ghost, keep your eyes on our fighters,” Fathom commands. “If they get into trouble, do what you can to help them out. You’re the fastest of us and have the most ground to cover, so stay on the move.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
Fathom waves him off. “I would be pleased to just be your friend.”
“You already are,” Ghost says, then darts away.
“Thrill, the wall is going to be damaged from both sides, and if we hope to survive, you and Lyric Walker need to keep it standing,” he explains. Thrill nods and rushes to his post. I turn to join him but feel Fathom’s hand on mine.
I know this might be the last time I see him, and I’m angry at how anticlimactic it is, at least for my heart. Doesn’t the hero get that big sweeping kiss just before all hell breaks loose? Where is the big confession, the “I know I’ve been stupid but I now know what I want” speech? Where’s the sappy love song?
“Lyric Walker, your mother and your friend are not safe here,” Fathom says. “Terrance will take them to the shelter. Arcade has built one for them made of sand and steel. If the Rusalka send a wave at us, it’s the best chance they have of surviving.”
“You did this for me?” I ask Arcade.
She scowls. I bet she regrets the favor.
My mother kisses me and gives me a hug. “Don’t die,” she orders, then the two of them are led away by Mr. Lir.
“Rusalka approach,” Arcade shouts.
I hear a splash and see something hop out of the water and onto the beach. Its upper body is like that of a giant toad: a big belly, spindly arms, and a face that will haunt my dreams until I die. But its lower body is that of a man with strong, muscled legs. Its feet, however, are a combination of both: huge and floppy with monstrous toes lined with webbing. Its skin is swamp brown and highlighted in eggplant purple; its mouth is a huge gaping hole. Teeth lean in all directions like tombstones in an abandoned cemetery. Its empty eyes are calm and black, offering little evidence of life or intelligence, and a long, wormlike appendage dangles from the top of its head to its bottom lip, ending in a bright, glowing bulb. It grunts and clicks and barks at us.
Fathom replies, and the creature nods. Then it bounds back into the water and is gone.
“He offered us a chance to surrender,” Fathom explains to us. “They are hungry and want to begin feeding on our bodies. He thinks he’s being courteous.”
“How very polite,” I say. “I hope you told him no.”
“Actually, I used the first sentence you taught me to read,” he says. “You recall the one you wrote on the whiteboard.”
From the water I hear their cries and barks, and it grows into a terrifying orchestra. There are so many voices in that water.
“Prepare yourselves,” Fathom shouts, just as an explosion rumbles through the ground. Parts of the wall behind us incinerate and fly out onto the beach.
“The humans are firing the missiles!” Thrill shouts. “Lyric, I need your help!”
I raise the gauntlet and watch it shimmer green. I concentrate on the trash that’s in the water, trying to sense the shapes of any objects discarded years ago that I can use to fill the holes in the wall. With a little nudging I drag them out of the silt and fling them toward the holes, and within moments the damage is repaired. Unfortunately, another missile hits the wall, and the top section crumbles and falls. Thrill shoves me aside, and the two of us roll to the ground before we can be crushed.
“Thanks,” I say as we clamber to our feet.
Once again I fill the holes. It’s like I’m playing some bizarre video game, but I only get one life. More missiles are fired, causing me to reach out even farther. I need something to repair the damage. An old car is out there in the muck, but with a little concentration, I get the water to set it free. I’m about to fling it into place when I hear a gasp come from Luna and the others.