Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

I WAKE UP ON A BED DRAPED IN MY ROBE, ALONE IN A SPARSE WHITE ROOM. I sit up and call for Fathom, but there’s no answer. At first I’m hurt that he’s not here; then I panic that they took him in the night. I tell myself that dragging him out of here would have caused a lot of racket, so I know he left under his own power. I don’t know how to feel about it. When I imagined the night I just had, I really only pictured the beginning, with all the kissing followed by the waking-up-and-smiling-at-each-other part. I was looking forward to the waking and smiling. I feel cheated.

I pad out of the room into the spa area and find a mirror over a sink. I know it’s silly, but I want to see if I look different, like if someone could tell what has happened just by looking at me. Sadly, I’m just as rough as I was yesterday, though maybe cleaner, and my hair is coming in a little. I guess the difference is inside me, which is actually the best place for such a thing. No one can get at it there. Spangler, Doyle, Amy, the guards, the client—they can’t take last night from me. It’s not on a phone they can snap in half.

Arcade.

I didn’t think about Arcade. I didn’t consider her for a second. Last night the only people in the world were Fathom and me. Even now, the only shame I feel is that I don’t feel ashamed. Last night he came to me. He made his choice. She can’t blame me.

And besides, their relationship was forced on them. It’s not real. What he and I are is real.

There’s a knock at the door and I cringe, wondering if it’s her, then realize that Arcade would just charge into the room without knocking. I hurry to open it, hoping that it’s Fathom on the other side. We need to talk about what we’re going to say to her. She’s strong and has swords in her arms she can stick into my soft parts. Aargh. We shouldn’t have done what we did before we talked to her. I broke the girl code on that one, but she’s got to understand. We’re in love.

I throw the door open, but it’s not him. It’s my mother and father, as well as Bex.

“You look better,” Bex says.

My mother wraps me up in the greatest hug of my life. My father joins her, while Bex hovers on the borders. I am thrilled to see them, of course, but I’m having trouble shifting gears.

“My baby girl,” my mom weeps, giving me big, hard, wet kisses all over my face.

“It’s okay, Mom,” I promise. “We’re all together now.”

Behind them is Doyle.

“I hate to have to break up this reunion, but Lyric needs to get dressed. We have to get started as soon as possible, but I will bring her back as soon as I can,” he promises.

Bex slams the door in his face, and he’s smart enough to leave it closed.

I tell my mother and father everything that has happened to us so far, filling in holes that Bex left out, and editing out a few things that will break their hearts. I explain what Spangler wants me to do. My mother doesn’t like it.

“I don’t have a choice,” I explain. “But I think it might give me a chance to get us out of here. If he wants me to train them to control the water, Spangler’s going to have to let me use it myself.”

“Will Fathom help you?” she asks.

“I haven’t asked, but I’m sure he will,” I say, then blush, thinking about him. I can’t help it, and it isn’t lost on Bex. She flashes me a curious look but says nothing.

There’s another knock at the door, and my spa ladies enter. Doyle tentatively follows.

“They’re here to take care of the rest of your family,” he says to me.

“You’re going to love this,” I tell them, then look at my mom. “Actually, you might want to supervise Dad.”

“Lyric, please,” Doyle says. “The team is waiting.”

“Let me get dressed,” I say. I walk to the closet, where a dozen fresh black White Tower jumpsuits are hanging. Putting one on physically repulses me, but there’s nothing else to wear. I snatch one off the hanger.

“Bex, feel free to steal anything you want from my closet.”

I head to the bathroom to put it on, with Bex in tow.

“Something’s different.”

Again, I blush.

“Fathom was here last night.”

“NO WAY!” she shouts. It’s so loud, I have to clamp my hand on her big mouth while she jumps up and down. “Oh, Lyric, you are like a trouble magnet.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You thought Arcade was pissed at you for having that picture. Wait until she finds what else you’ve had,” she says.

“Gawd, do you have to say it like that?” I groan, then eye her sheepishly. “Am I horrible?”

“You love him, right? This isn’t a Stevie Brinks thing?”

“That was the third grade!”

“You knew Heather Stamp liked him, but you kissed him by the bumper cars anyway. It was scandalous. Arcade is not Heather Stamp. She can break you in half.”

“I know.” I cringe. “But I do love him.”

“You have got to tell her, Lyric. Maybe not right now, when we’re locked up like this, but soon. They’ve been together since they were little. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, but you need to be prepared for some of her hostility.”

“I am . . . I will be.”

“Still, you’re such a hussy,” she says with a giggle. “Shadow called it. The first time he saw the two of you together, he knew you’d be a couple.”

“Bex, back at the theater. Duck . . . did you—”