Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

“What are you doing?” I cry.

“Spangler is necessary,” Fathom says to me. “I cannot let him be harmed.”

I yank my hand away from him, horrified by his betrayal.

I turn off the glove, not because he asked, but because I am shocked that he asked. Of all the people in this world, I thought Fathom would want Spangler dead.

Our captive swims to the surface and takes a strangling gasp of air before Fathom helps him out of the pool. Spangler hunches on hands and knees, coughing up water. At the bottom of the pool, I can see his tablet.

“Kids, it’s fine! Lyric and I planned this all along,” Spangler cries. “We wanted to show what you can do to an enemy. Sorry, we weren’t trying to scare you. We . . . we were showing off. The Oracles are pretty cool, huh?”

The children’s faces move from shock to eagerness; then they break into applause.

“When do we get our Oracles?” Riley asks.

“Soon, and you can thank our new friend Fathom. He brought them to us all the way from the ocean,” Spangler says, climbing to his feet to shake Fathom’s hand. I’m horrified to see Fathom return it. “Lyric will show you how they work. Then we’re all going to go back to Coney Island to save the world.”

The children cheer and clap. Their eyes are full of wonder and excitement. Chloe hugs her bunny and grins at me.

I am sure I’m going to scream.





Chapter Sixteen


TWO GUARDS WALK ME BACK TO MY ROOM, each with a loaded pistol aimed at my head.

“That was a pretty stupid stunt,” one of them says to me.

“It was only stupid because it didn’t work,” I mumble.

Once inside my room, I find chaos. Furniture lies broken and strewn about. There’s a hole in one wall shaped roughly like a person. It opens into the bathroom. There are a few more like it on other walls. Glass shards litter the carpet. Bex and my mother hover over my father, who is slumped against a wall. Two more soldiers tower over him. Each have busted knuckles and batons.

I try to activate the glove, but Spangler has turned it off again, so I rush to the guard holding my mother down and swing. He blocks my punch and pushes me down to the floor.

“Be smart, freak!” he bellows.

The door opens, and Spangler enters the room with a dozen guards behind him.

“You did this to him?” I ask as I get to my feet.

He nods, then taps something on a new tablet. When he’s finished, he gives me a cold stare.

“You need to understand a few things. When you don’t fall in line, I will hurt the people you love. I took the liberty of preparing your family’s cells this morning. They are ready for their return. The science team is prepped and ready for experiments. Gentlemen, let’s empty this room.”

The guards step forward, revealing that each is carrying a long, black stick. They press a button on their handles, and they hum with electricity.

“No! Leave them alone!” I shout.

“You challenged the alpha dog, Lyric!” Spangler shouts. “Throats must be ripped out.”

One of the soldiers pulls my father to his feet, causing him to groan in agony. Another drags Bex toward the door, but I step in his way. He shoves me hard, and I fall. This time I grab his leg and wrap around it like a snake.

I hear my mother scream when they hit her with one of the batons.

“I’ll do what you want!” I shriek. “Don’t take them. I’ll do whatever you want. I promise.”

Spangler waves his hand, and the guards release my family. They exit the room, leaving Spangler standing amid the destruction.

“Am I a fool?” he asks me.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’m trying to be a nice guy here. Am I being a fool?”

I shake my head.

He measures me for a long time, then kneels down to my level. He removes my hat and then rubs the top of my head like I’m a dog, even going so far as to scratch behind my ears. His touch makes me cringe, but it’s the humiliation that sets me on edge.

“Can you promise to behave?”

I hesitate and he clamps his hand on my jaw and gives my head a jerk.

“Can you behave?”

I nod.

“Good dog,” he says, as a smile creeps across his face. He stands and looks around at the chaos of the room. “What a mess. I’ll send someone down to help clean this up.”

A moment later he’s gone, taking his soldiers with him.

My mother gets to her feet and helps my father sit in the only chair that survived the beating. I wrap Bex in my arms and do my best to calm her trembling.

“This is my fault,” I say.

“No, it’s not,” my father says between painful winces. “Besides, your mother did most of this. She’s mean when you make her angry.”

“Don’t joke,” she lectures. “This is serious.”

“Then I blame Fathom,” I say. His name is bitter in my mouth.

“Fathom?” Bex asks.

“I had a chance to end this, and Fathom stopped me. He’s working with Spangler. He brought all the kids their own gloves.”

“Did he . . . was last night . . . ?”