Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

“Thin is good,” Jackson says, then turns to me. “Do you think your team could make a wave for us?”

I look out at the kids, huddled together for warmth.

“I don’t know,” I confess.

There is a flurry of activity and noise on the beach. I watch heavy machines roll along the sand, creating huge dunes between the water and the building. Inside, soldiers shout orders at one another and plead for assistance on radios and telephones.

My father is eager to help. He divides the team into two groups, urging one half to try to get some sleep while the others continue to watch the windows. I think sleep is wishful thinking, but to be honest, I really don’t have a better plan. When I was in kindergarten, the teacher used to make us take naps to keep us busy. Maybe it will work for them.

Riley looks tired, but he stays alert and positive. He does his best to keep everyone’s spirits high. He tells the little ones that they are brave and the older ones that they’re amazing. He’s so good with them. He seems to know what to say and who needs a little attention. Everyone brightens when he’s near. It’s almost magical. I wish I had a little of his charm. It seems like I did once upon a time, but it’s hard to remember that Lyric Walker.

“You need a pep talk?” he asks me.

I shake my head, even though I really do. I just don’t think lover boy wants to listen to me flail back and forth about Fathom. His words echo in my ears. He’s made me redefine everything I thought I knew. The hatred I have clung to so tightly has come undone and flaps in the wind like a filthy sheet. I have no idea how I feel.

He gives me a curious look.

“You think I don’t want to hear about it?” he says knowingly.

I blush. “You read minds too?”

“I read faces,” he says. “I’ll listen, but I doubt I’ll be very objective.”

“Who asked for objectivity?” I laugh.

“I’ve been wondering how I can compete with a guy like him. It’s odd to have superpowers and still feel insecure. So I’m just going to say this. You’re funny and you’re hot. I like you.”

“Short and sweet,” I say.

“That’s how I roll,” he says, then wanders off to talk with Harrison and Ryan.



Chloe lies next to me on the floor, her head resting on my leg as she sleeps. I watch out a window and listen to the crashing of waves. Coney Island’s electricity was knocked out by the first tidal wave and was never reconnected. For the first time in my life, the light pollution that kept the sky a dim yellow is replaced by galactic majesty. I see stars! It’s every bit as beautiful as the Texas version.

It’s almost amazing enough to make me forget the dramatic temperature drop that came when the sun went down. The wind is bitter and biting, and when it blows through the open windows, it howls in my ears. There’s not much in the way of blankets, and though the White Tower jumpsuits and jackets are padded, the children and I are freezing. For all of Doyle’s training, he didn’t prepare them for a frosty night by the ocean. Jackson hands out little red packs filled with something that feels like sand. When you shake them, they get hot, so I tell everyone to shove them in their boots and gloves. Finn puts one under his cap. It’s silly, but he says he feels better.

“You need a break?” my mother asks, gesturing to Chloe.

I look down at my sleeping sidekick and nod. My mother cradles her up in her arms, careful not to wake her.

“How is Dad?” I ask.

“Stubborn,” she says. “We need to get him out of here. This was not a good place to bring him or Bex.”

“I’ll talk to Jackson,” I say. “They didn’t give us much of a choice when we arrived.”

She takes the little girl away. I stretch out my legs and try to rub the feeling back into them, only to find that Arcade is standing over me. She looks restless and frustrated, basically how she looks all the time. I feel the pull of her missing hand, but I keep my eyes on her face.

“I know you hate waiting,” I say as sympathetically as I can. “I think we should let Kita come up with a plan.”

“The soldiers are fighting bravely. That is good enough for me,” she says as she kneels down next to me. With her back against the wall, she stares in the opposite direction as me. It’s uncomfortably close. Maybe not if she were Bex or, well, anyone else for that matter, but it’s an invasion of my personal space for someone who recently tried to kill me.

“My problem is with you,” she says.

“Are you going to kill me?” I ask.

Arcade shakes her head, but in the dark I can’t see if her face is as sincere as the gesture.

“What’s the Alpha punishment for a person who tries to steal your boyfriend?”

“Death.”

“Then you are going to kill me? Should I have been more specific? Are you going to kill me sometime in the future?”

“I seek to understand you,” Arcade whispers to me.

“I’m not sure I can help you with that,” I tell her. “I don’t understand myself most of the time.”

“You have rejected him?”

I look out the window to the ocean and wonder if Fathom found his friends.