Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

“No way!” he cries. “I’m not letting you go out there alone, not after what you told me about him.”


“Lyyyyrrrriiccc,” Spangler sings. “Come on out.”

“Riley, please,” I say. “These are our people, and they need you more than I do right now.”

I walk past all the tanks to the elevator. The water has sunk back down, but it’s a simple thing to recall it. I leap into the shaft, and it rises to catch me. I go down one floor, force the doors open, and then race down a hall until I find an emergency exit door. I push it open and find myself outside in the chilly Texas night. My wet skin and clothes make it even worse, but I have to keep going. I race around the building’s perimeter with only the moon to light my way until I find Spangler and Doyle. Both men are aiming guns at each other.

“Lyric, it’s over,” Spangler says.

“All the Alpha and the human parents are free. Soon the kids will know about your lies,” Doyle says to him.

Spangler smiles like he’s being patient with a small child.

“That’s going to be tedious to clean up, but it’s not unmanageable. I’m willing to let this go, but you have to power down now, Lyric. I’m going to reset the EMP’s console, and then we’re all going to go back inside and go to bed. We have a big mission soon.”

“Put the gun down, Spangler. I’m not going to tell you again,” Doyle demands.

“I’ve got this,” I say. I call two waterspouts from deep in the earth. They shoot out of the ground and collect in a puddle at Spangler’s feet.

“I have to say I’m impressed by this act of teamwork. The thing is, we’re all on the same team. It’s true, Lyric. Down deep, both you and David understand what’s at stake. We’re all trying to save the world.”

What happens next, I might truly never understand. It all seems to happen at once, yet I witness everything as if it is its own exclusive event. Spangler spins and slams his free hand on a button inside the door of the electrical shed, and all at once I don’t feel the connection anymore. Doyle fires his gun. Spangler’s eyes roll into the back of his head, and he falls to the ground. He stares up at the stars and dies.

“It’s over,” Doyle says.

There’s another gunshot, and Doyle falls. His body lies next to Spangler’s, and the two of them leave this world together. I turn to find a wheelchair rolling into the light. Calvin is pushing it along, and in the seat is Governor Bachman, her hand wrapped around a pistol. Her body leans sharply to the left, as if her spine has been cracked and put back together by a child. Her face is marred by a jagged purple scar that cuts a wide canal from the corner of her mouth up to her dead white eye. Despite it all, she’s got the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen.

I can’t believe she’s alive. When the Rusalka arrived on our shore, the Navy sent ships to intercept them, but the creatures used their gloves to lift a battleship out of the water and hurl it onshore. Bachman was in its path. The fact that she’s breathing is a miracle.

Her eyes hold me in place and burn with hostility. Her hands tremble as they lift a red, white, and blue megaphone to her mouth. Then an ear-piercing feedback whine stabs my ears, and a series of ugly barks and mumbling moans flies into the desert. I have no idea what she actually said, but the tone is crystal clear. She hates me.

She gestures to the guard, and Calvin jumps into action, walking over to Spangler’s body and taking his tablet. He hands it to the governor, who trades him the gun. She taps on the screen and hands it back to Calvin.

“‘I’m the client,’” he reads. “‘If you understand that, then we can move on. We’ve got a lot of packing to do.’”





Chapter Twenty-One


I SIT IN THE CAFETERIA, SHAKING UNCONTROLLABLY. Riley sits next to me, with my hand in his. He’s trying to comfort me, but I need more than a hand to feel better now.

The governor sits at our table in her chair while Calvin empties the contents of a plastic bag into a cup. It’s a murky green substance that smells both sweet and foul at the same time. Calvin inserts a straw, and she slurps it. Most of it dribbles down her chin, and Calvin is there to wipe her clean after every attempt. All the while, she taps on her machine.

“Everyone was captured and placed back into holding cells for their safekeeping,” Calvin explains.

“What about my family and friends?” I ask.

Bachman shakes her head.

“She still needs you to live up to your commitment and suspects that taking them from you would only cause delays,” Calvin says. “The Rusalka attacks have escalated, and we no longer have time for a battle of wills. We’re leaving today.”

“Today?” Riley cries.

“What do you mean ‘escalated’?” I demand.