Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

“It’s okay. I won’t hurt him,” I say, looking little Chloe directly in the eye. “I promise I will never hurt any of you.”


“It’s cool,” Riley says, and his grin is bigger than ever. “But you’re getting my tracksuit wet!”

I set him down, and he leads the applause.

“Water is liquid, but it can be solid, too. You can pack it together to make it dense. You can thin it out to make rain. It’s up to you. So, everyone, let’s aim your gloves at the pool,” I say. “I guess you don’t actually have to point it at the water, but it helps me to focus if I do. Good. All right, now concentrate on the surface, and let’s see if you can affect it. Try to make a little ripple. It doesn’t have to be big. It can be a tiny thing, like you dropped a stone into a still pond. You’ve seen a ripple a million times.”

“I’ve got it,” Riley says as he closes his eyes tight.

I turn to Spangler. He smiles and nods approvingly. I want him to think he’s tamed me, at least until I can get off his leash.

“All right, now, here’s where things get tricky,” I say, turning my attention back to Riley. “It’s not your imagination that makes the ripple. It’s your spirit.”

“I’m confused.”

“I’m talking about you—the big, awesome force that is Riley. The stomping giant that hides in your heart. That’s what fuels your Oracle. It’s the same thing that makes that sarcastic grin.”

The children laugh.

“So it’s like the Force?” Cole shouts from the crowd.

Riley’s face lights up, and he smiles at me. He’s always smiling at me. Why?

“No, not the Force. This is about raw emotion, not calm meditation. The person who taught me to use this told me that if I wanted to make it work, I had to be a force of nature, like a hurricane, all turmoil and raw emotion.”

“Show us,” Finn begs.

I’ve got more than my fair share of raw emotion, and letting some go will do me good. Best of all, I know just who to unleash it on.

I turn to Fathom. He hovers in the shadows, watching my lesson and doing his best to keep his distance. I raise my fist and his eyes widen. When my entire arm explodes and light flies upward to illuminate the rafters, his mouth opens in shock.

“Watch and learn, kids,” I shout, and at once all the water in the pool is in the air. It sails across the room until it is directly above Fathom, and then it swirls into a bubbling whirlpool, spinning faster and faster until his hair and clothes flap in an angry wind. Then I send it crashing down on him. He’s caught in my churning heartbreak, and his body flails about as he struggles to free himself. He’s not quick enough for my attack and his body slams into the floor over and over again, until he comes down in one bone-cracking slam. I direct the water back to the pool and watch Fathom struggle to stand, fighting with his lungs for a breath. He shoots me an angry and frustrated expression but I turn my back on him and face the children.

“Don’t worry, kids. He’s not hurt. In fact, Fathom can’t feel anything. That’s how he’s made,” I say.

I expected the kids to be shocked and afraid, the way they were when I attacked Spangler the day before, but they are smiling and eager, if a bit intimidated.

“I don’t think I feel anything that powerful,” Chloe says.

“My ability is fueled by loss and betrayal, something I’m sure all of you have experienced. But you don’t have to feel pain to do what I can do. Happiness is just as good. Fear, anger, love—”

The word feels dry and tough in my mouth. I’d spit it out if I could, right here on the grass. I’d step on it and squish it into nothing. Fathom has recast its very meaning so that it feels unwelcome and foreign. I can recall the feelings, but they are covered in so much despair, like the sudden loss of a person. Like how I feel about Shadow. All I can do is mourn. Put it aside, Lyric. Lock it up in a box and shove it deep under the bed. Don’t let him see what he’s done to you. Don’t turn and look. Don’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he had power over you.

“Lyric? Are you all right?” Doyle asks.

“Sorry. I was saying you don’t need to feel something that intense. It could be something as simple as a happy memory or the secret wild thing inside you.”

“I’m lost,” Harrison admits.

“Have you ever read Where the Wild Things Are?”

“Riley reads it to me,” Chloe says, giving him a wink.

“Remember when Max wins the staring contest and the wild things bow down to him and make him their king, and then they do that crazy dance?”

“The wild rumpus,” she says, standing tall and proud for knowing the answer.

“Is there a wild rumpus inside you?”

Doyle crosses the room and stands close.