Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

He taps his tablet and then smiles smugly. “Give it a try.”

A tiny bolt of electricity zips through my bloodstream, around my mind, along my shoulders, and down my arm into my hand. The metal explodes with crackling light, bathing everything in blue. The children ooh and ahh like we’re at a circus, and I realize that’s what this place is—Tempest is a circus, and Spangler is the ringmaster, and we’re a bunch of poodles leaping through rings and walking on balls. I stare at him. I hate this man. I hate how he has all the answers, how he’s planned every detail. I hate how confident he looks that this is all going to work out for him and his company and his clients.

I’m going to love showing him how wrong he’s been.

What would you have us do?

“End him,” I whisper.

A huge greedy hand reaches out of the pool. It grabs Spangler tight, and with lightning speed it drags him in and pulls him to the bottom.

Guns are drawn and soldiers rush at me, aiming their weapons at my head. I hear them click off their safeties. I’m surprised by how much I don’t care. They can shoot me if they want. In fact, they probably should, because once Spangler has taken his last breath, they’re all next.

“Lyric, you should let him up,” Doyle says.

“I’m just showing the kids what their Oracles can do, Uncle David,” I taunt. “No need to worry.”

The children murmur with concern. Spangler has won all of their hearts with his big smiles and promises. It makes me wish the pool were deeper. I could drag him down and let his skull crack open from the pressure.

“You’re hurting him,” Geno says.

“No, no! He’s going for a swim,” I say. “He’s enjoying himself.”

“Lyric, that’s enough!” Doyle demands.

“Let him up. He’s human. He can’t breathe down there,” Priscilla begs.

“It’s going to be okay, kids,” I promise. “I’m going to make this all okay.”

Four guards storm my way, but with a single thought, funnels of water slam into them and send them flailing.

“I’m counting to three,” another soldier says as he levels his rifle at my face.

“I’ll only need two,” I whisper to him.

“Lyric Walker, release him!” a voice booms from the other side of the room. I turn in shock, because I recognize it. Fathom is here, racing toward me like a blur until he’s got his hand clasped around my wrist. “That is enough.”

“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.