Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

I don’t know what to say to them. Everything in this place is a lie. All of this deception against children is gross. Now Spangler and Doyle want to include me in their ugly fairy tale. I didn’t sign on for it. They need to know this is all an illusion.

“I’m going to tell these kids the truth,” I hiss.

“Ms. Walker—”

Something in his voice is threatening. I stare at him for a long moment, and I can see it in his expression. He will hurt everyone I love if I pop his balloon. I let him sweat a few more seconds and then turn back to the kids.

“A few months ago, a man known as the prime attacked Coney Island.”

“The evil king,” Cole says.

“Yes, he is evil. He came out of the sea with a group of people called the Alpha, who, as you know, are related to you. The prime wants to kill everyone who lives on the surface and take it for himself, even though his people disagreed. He used a bunch of scary monsters called the Rusalka to help him. My friends and I tried to fight them, but they were too strong, and our hometown was destroyed.”

“Coney Island is gone?” Breanne asks. She tugs on her braid nervously.

I nod.

“The Rusalka used a machine that controls the ocean, and they sent a huge wave to destroy everything in its path. Your homes are gone. I wish I could make up a story that wasn’t as sad as the truth, but I don’t want to lie to you.”

“Uncle David showed us videos. We saw you fighting them,” Dallas says.

Uncle David?

“Unfortunately, I didn’t fight them hard enough, and now they are attacking other cities, so we need your help.”

“The children have been preparing for this for a long time, Lyric,” Doyle explains. “Some of them for as long as they have been here. They know all about the mission and how important it is. They’ve worked very hard. All they need is for you to show them how to use their secret power.”

“Secret power?” I say. He’s so awful. Now who’s living in a comic book?

Spangler taps a few buttons on his tablet, and I feel a rumbling of motors beneath my feet. Suddenly the ground jerks. The kids hoot and holler, leaping away as the floor slides aside. Chloe takes my hand and pulls me along.

“C’mon, silly, before you fall in.” She giggles, leading me to safety as a massive swimming pool is uncovered. It’s probably twice as big as the one at the YMCA, tiled in blue, with diving boards and depth markers along the perimeter. The salty smell of seawater tickles my nose when it’s finally exposed.

“Kids, do you see the glove on Lyric’s hand? We call that an Oracle. Remember how I talked about the Oracles? Well, Lyric knows how to make one work. Lyric, why don’t you give us a little presentation?” Spangler asks.

“I think the battery is dead,” I say.

He taps his tablet and then smiles smugly. “Give it a try.”

A tiny bolt of electricity zips through my bloodstream, around my mind, along my shoulders, and down my arm into my hand. The metal explodes with crackling light, bathing everything in blue. The children ooh and ahh like we’re at a circus, and I realize that’s what this place is—Tempest is a circus, and Spangler is the ringmaster, and we’re a bunch of poodles leaping through rings and walking on balls. I stare at him. I hate this man. I hate how he has all the answers, how he’s planned every detail. I hate how confident he looks that this is all going to work out for him and his company and his clients.

I’m going to love showing him how wrong he’s been.

What would you have us do?

“End him,” I whisper.

A huge greedy hand reaches out of the pool. It grabs Spangler tight, and with lightning speed it drags him in and pulls him to the bottom.

Guns are drawn and soldiers rush at me, aiming their weapons at my head. I hear them click off their safeties. I’m surprised by how much I don’t care. They can shoot me if they want. In fact, they probably should, because once Spangler has taken his last breath, they’re all next.

“Lyric, you should let him up,” Doyle says.

“I’m just showing the kids what their Oracles can do, Uncle David,” I taunt. “No need to worry.”

The children murmur with concern. Spangler has won all of their hearts with his big smiles and promises. It makes me wish the pool were deeper. I could drag him down and let his skull crack open from the pressure.

“You’re hurting him,” Geno says.

“No, no! He’s going for a swim,” I say. “He’s enjoying himself.”

“Lyric, that’s enough!” Doyle demands.

“Let him up. He’s human. He can’t breathe down there,” Priscilla begs.

“It’s going to be okay, kids,” I promise. “I’m going to make this all okay.”

Four guards storm my way, but with a single thought, funnels of water slam into them and send them flailing.

“I’m counting to three,” another soldier says as he levels his rifle at my face.

“I’ll only need two,” I whisper to him.

“Lyric Walker, release him!” a voice booms from the other side of the room. I turn in shock, because I recognize it. Fathom is here, racing toward me like a blur until he’s got his hand clasped around my wrist. “That is enough.”