Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

I look down at the mess on the floor. I’m no longer embarrassed by what I hid, or ashamed of how important it was to me. I don’t feel sympathy for her or sadness. All I feel is anger. My glove glows blue, and I aim it right at her. She does the same to me.

“All right, stop it,” Bex says, suddenly the peacemaker. I almost laugh.

Arcade lunges at me, and in my shock I fall backwards onto the hardwood floor, a happy accident as I watch her blades slice the air mere inches from my face. The mob shrieks, and suddenly they are racing back the way they came, trampling the slow ones in their paths.

“Leave her alone, Arcade!” Bex shouts.

I force a waterspout up through the antique floorboards, and it catches Arcade so hard, her body is flung toward the ceiling. She slams into it with a sickening smack, then falls back down, crashing through the stage and creating a massive hole. I hear pipes bursting, and more crashes come from below.

I barely have time to stand when Arcade leaps up through the hole and lands on the balls of her feet.

“You are a vile, selfish parasite, Lyric Walker. My life has become a whirlpool of indignities ever since I encountered you. You have been scheming behind my back, disrespecting my role as his future queen. You think of no one but yourself.”

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you, either of you,” I say, looking back and forth from Arcade to Bex.

“We part ways here, filth,” she says through heavy breaths. “I will not dishonor myself by fighting at your side. I will go to Tempest alone. Do not follow me, or I will kill you.”

“We need each other,” I argue.

“I will never need you,” she says.

There’s a whipping sound outside, followed by a loud crash coming toward the lobby. I hear a bang, and something gets tossed through the lobby doors. It bounces down the aisle and lands right in front of the stage. It’s a metal canister leaking a thick, ghostly gas that makes my eyes and throat burn. A moment later there are two, three, four more canisters flying into the auditorium, followed by a squadron of men in black riot gear and gas masks. All of them have the same white tower logo sewn into their clothes that I saw on the belly of the helicopter that killed the police officer.

“Put your hands on your heads! If you fail to follow instructions, we are authorized to open fire.”

“Run!” Malik shouts.

“No!” I shout, but it’s too late. The Coasters scatter like mice. There are popping sounds, and more canisters crash onto the ground. People fall left and right, overcome by the fumes. Children sob as they run through the chaos. Duck charges into the room, playing the hero, only to succumb as well. He coughs and clutches his throat and then passes out.

My first thought is Bex, even if she hates me. I have to get her out of here. I stumble through the haze and find her standing dumbfounded against a wall.

“Bex!” I shout, only to watch a soldier rush forward and shoot her with a Taser. She lets out a howl and falls to the floor, her body seized by pain and violent spasms. I am going to hurt this man. It will only take a single thought, but before I can break him in half, Arcade leaps into his path. She knocks his weapon out of his arms, then slices him across the chest with her blades. He lets out a terrible shriek and falls to the floor.

There’s a ZAP. Arcade cries out in agony, struggling to yank out a collection of wires impaled in her back. I’m helpless to free her. Ozone and smoke are in my nose and eyes. I can barely breathe or see, but I can hear her agonizing cries.

Someone clamps a hand on my arm. I turn, prepared to break a few important bones in his body, only to discover it is Lucas.

“Come with me!” he shouts.

“I can’t!” I cry, as guards haul my friends out of the theater.

There’s another pop, and another canister lands at my feet. This time the smoke has a smell and a taste. It makes me dizzy.

Lucas lifts his shirt up over his nose.

“You can’t do anything for them right now,” he cries, then pulls me backstage.

“No, that’s not true!” I shout, but my voice sounds like someone has turned the speed down on my mom’s record player. Even the voice of the water sounds odd and distant.

Unleash us, it begs in a warbled whisper.

The floor buckles, and water spirals skyward. It breaks into a dozen tendrils, a multiheaded hydra that snatches soldiers off the floor and tosses them against walls. There are so many targets that it’s hard to keep all of them straight, or maybe that’s the gas. Are there suddenly more soldiers? Are they running down the aisles toward me?