Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

“Ghost? He hates me!”

“He is well respected among my people, and he was able to sway them to resume our fight. After a vote, they agreed, even though they believed we would be slaughtered. It was Ghost who gave us hope of victory. He believed that you would be captured eventually and taken to Tempest, where the children of Alpha were held. He also believed that those children would be able to hear the Voice the same as you. Rescuing you and the children could help us stop our enemies and give safety to the surface world. I returned to the beach, collecting as many gloves as I could among the dead, then gave myself to the soldiers. As Ghost predicted, they delivered me to Tempest, but you were not there. You had managed to elude capture, so I met with the ones they called Doyle and Spangler. I gave them the gloves and encouraged them to find you.

“I don’t think you understand what the word rescue means,” I snap. “You kept me from destroying that place, Fathom. I could have brought it all down on Spangler’s head. We could have gotten the children out and their parents, too. Don’t you realize what you did? There are Alpha back there in those tanks who would be free today if you had not gotten in my way.”

“Escape was never a question, Lyric Walker. For our plan to work you needed to train the children to use the Voice, and I needed to train you to stay alive.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” I cry. “Fathom, those kids back there aren’t warriors, and no amount of preparation is going to help. They’re babies and you may have killed them all.”

“No!” he shouts angrily. “They are not babies, Lyric Walker. They are hope. They can save us all, and you will lead them.”

“I’m seventeen!”

He takes another step toward me, grabbing my shoulders in his strong hands and giving me a shake.

“I will hear no more of how you are small. I will not listen to any further nonsense about your weakness. They are lies you tell yourself that no one else believes. I love you with every drop of my blood, and I know any chance of winning your affection is slim, but I cannot walk away without saying this to you. It is time to stop acting delicate. You are not fooling me. I see what you are.”

“And what’s that?” I shout, pulling myself away.

“You are a raging sea!” he bellows.

He takes a few breaths to calm himself, then looks out to the ocean.

“Yes, I manipulated you to get you here. I prevented you from escaping and blocked your plans, but the world needs you. The safest place the children can be is a step behind you,” he says, then turns back to me. “There are thousands of Alpha waiting for battle, men and women who have proved their courage countless times, and all of them have pledged to follow you into the Great Abyss. You are the only chance we have. Ghost knows this. My people know this. I know it.”

“Aaargh!” I cry. “I can’t stand any more of this Triton craziness. Are you telling me you put me in danger because you love me?”

“I did not put you into danger; you are already in danger. I brought you here to fight because I know you are capable of destroying what the rest of us cannot. This is not Triton craziness. This is how I love you. The soft-handed humans may believe their women need to be protected. They teach you to hide and lock yourselves away. If that is what you want, you will find plenty who will happily underestimate you. My love expects you to be what you are—no more and no less.”

Fathom takes off the boots that White Tower gave him. He rolls up the bottoms of his jumpsuit and lets his blades slice through his shirtsleeves.

“Stay alive, Lyric Walker,” he says; then, with a blast of wind, he speeds toward the shore, sending sand up in his wake. He cuts Rusalka down in his path but does not slow. Into the water he leaps, disappearing in the frothy waves.

“You do the same,” I whisper.





Chapter Twenty-Two


SOMETIME AFTER DUSK, THE RUSALKA MAKE A SUDDEN RETREAT. One moment they are fighting; the next they march back into the sea. Some of the children celebrate, but Kita tells us that this always happens before they send another wave. His words are followed by screaming sirens. I order the children to the windows and tell them to push back any waves away from the resturant. There’s an eerie silence, then the trembling of glass in window frames. A massive crash hits the beach, like a giant punched the side of the building. It knocks a few people down, and dust trickles from the rafters. We wait in silence for a second strike, but it doesn’t happen, and Kita tells us to relax.

“They must not have as many gloves as we thought,” I tell him.

“What makes you think so?”

“They could easily knock this building down with a little combined effort,” I explain. “We are able to push their attack aside.”

“The prime has these animals spread out up and down the East Coast,” he tells me. “Maybe he’s a little thin.”