Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

“Arcade would never be this lazy,” he says.

I smack him so hard, it echoes off the rafters. Then I turn and stomp toward the door, mad at myself for needing to cry, but he’s in front of me so fast, I feel the wind blow against my wet swimsuit.

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” he says. “I can’t lose you.”

“You don’t have me,” I say bitterly, my eyes blinded by tears. “I always worried you would pick Arcade. In fact, I was prepared for it. Now I wish you had.”

He looks stricken. Can’t he see what he’s done? This is us now: we’re done, and it’s underlined in red. It’s what we’re going to be from now on, and it’s his fault.

“I don’t want to be part of some stupid clichéd love triangle, anyway.”

“What is a love triangle?” he asks.

“It’s when one person treats two others like losers, and the losers love it,” I say.

A soldier enters the room.

“Mr. Spangler would like to see you,” he says to me.

“Lyric Walker, you must talk to me,” he begs, but I turn and stalk out of the room.



Doyle is waiting outside Spangler’s office when I arrive.

“He wants to see us both,” he explains, but says he has no idea why. He knocks on the door, and after a moment it opens and we enter.

Spangler is sitting at a fancy glass desk littered with electronic gadgets. He smiles and gestures for us to enter.

“Doyle, Lyric, I believe you both know Samuel.”

Samuel Lir is sitting in his wheelchair off to the side, so I didn’t spot him at first. When we turn to face him, he does something I never thought I’d see him do again. He stands. It’s awkward and difficult, but he gets up and stays put. I cry out in both surprise and joy.

“Hello, Ly-ric,” he says, knocking me out again. It’s a miracle.

“How is this possible, Sammy?” I say.

He points to the glove. “I’m coming back, Lyric,” he says. He turns to Spangler. “I’m tired.”

“Of course you are,” Spangler replies. He presses some buttons on his tablet, then helps Samuel back into his wheelchair. “You’ve had an exhausting day, and it’s important to get some rest. We don’t want anything slowing down your progress.”

The door opens, and Rochelle and Terrance enter. Rochelle looks thin and tired, like they just took her out of her cell. Maybe they did.

“How?” I ask.

Terrance smiles at me with tears streaming from his eyes.

“I’m not going to question a miracle,” he says. He and Rochelle wheel their son out of the room. On the way out, Sammy waves at me, then rubs his head, a joke about my hair.

“The Oracle is an amazing device,” Spangler says once they’re gone. “I have a theory about it. Would you like to hear it? I don’t think it really moves the water. What I think it does is rewires your brain to force a leap forward in individual evolution. For Alpha, it adapted the Rusalka’s mind so it could control its environment more efficiently. The insurmountable complications of living underwater forced their society to be a nomadic hunter-gatherer tribe. Being able to control what was once uncontrollable gave them a chance at a permanent home. For Samuel, it’s taking on a different purpose: to allow him to walk and talk again. I’ve got the team working on it right now. If we can figure out how to adapt that technology for humans, the applications have limitless potential. A soldier could evolve into something bigger and stronger than the enemy. It could get an injured cop back on the streets. People could develop abilities we’ve never even imagined. It’s mind-boggling. So, how about an update on the children?”

Doyle clears his throat.

“Lyric has been working with Fathom in the pool. Naturally, he’s teaching her fighting techniques that I cannot. She’s progressing as well as can be expected, but she could improve if you didn’t turn off her connection to the water.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure we’re going to be able to arrange that at this time.”

“The children continue to excel at their mixed martial-arts training, though based on sheer size and strength, few of them will pose any real threat to a Rusalka. They simply aren’t strong enough. They’ll have to rely on their Oracles when we deploy, another reason to turn on the connection permanently. The children could use the practice.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Spangler says absently. “Lyric, how goes it with your students?”

“Geno, Riley, and Georgia are the best,” I say.

“And the others?”

“Twelve are very good. Of them, Finn, Ryan, and Harrison are on the verge of a breakthrough. That leaves sixteen who, as of right now, can barely make a ripple and will be killed the second they step on the beach. You might as well send a bunch of rabbits to fight in their place. Chloe doesn’t have a glove, so sending her at all is a death sentence.”

“Yes, Chloe needs a glove. The contract is for thirty-three soldiers, and I’ve got thirty-two gloves. I was going to take Samuel’s from him before I saw his CAT scans. I am so glad I waited.”

Doyle leans forward in his seat, his face choleric.