Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

“That’s unfortunate,” Jackson shouts. “Stay close together, then.”

The beach disappears into the horizon, replaced by a threatening purple sky. The water below looks like a vast black drain. The children see it the way I do, suddenly losing their eagerness to fight. They are silent and wary, watching the waves with anxious eyes. I know Riley would like me to say something to inspire them, but I’m not feeling all that inspiring right now. Fathom says I’m a raging sea. Right now I feel like I’m going to pee my pants.

About a mile offshore, the helicopter slows and Jackson reaches back and opens the door.

“We’re here!”

We take off our helmets, then our boots.

“Good luck!” the pilot shouts to us.

“Wait! Aren’t you going any lower?” I say, looking out at the water. It’s a good fifty feet below.

“A Rusalka can jump out of the water pretty high,” he says. “This is about as low as we dare.”

Before I can argue, Arcade pushes past me and leaps out of the chopper. I watch her body plummet and then disappear into the waves. If I do the same thing, I’m going to smack into the water. It’s going to feel like pavement.

“You’re not afraid of heights, are you, Lyric?” Georgia teases.

“It’s really what’s at the bottom that bothers me,” I say.

“You’re so funny,” she says as she powers up her glove. A moment later a spout of water rises up until it’s parallel with the helicopter. Georgia jumps out into it, and I watch her body sink down into the ocean below. It’s a pretty cool trick. Eric and Ryan are next, then Emma, Tess, Harrison, and Jonas, until it’s just Riley and me.

“Let’s go, Walker!” Jackson shouts as he shoves a canvas bag into my hands. Inside are ten metal canisters as big as softballs. Each has a single red button on its side. “Here are the explosives. Get as close to those ugly things as you can and push the button. After that, just hold your ears.”

My heart is racing. My head feels like it might pop off. This is so stupid. I am not a soldier. Can’t anyone see that? Why is Jackson shouting for me to jump?

Riley reaches over and gives my shoulder a squeeze.

“You can do this,” he promises, offering me his hand.

Fathom would probably think I was being weak, but I take it nonetheless, and together Riley and I leap out into nothing. When we hit the spout, my whole body locks up. The water is icy cold and it steals my breath, even as my gills appear to take over the job of breathing. We drop downward until we splash into the murky ocean unharmed. Riley is still holding my hand. The scales on his face and hands are silver and blue. He’s beautiful.

He says something to me, but it comes out as bubbles and nonsense. He’s grinning. I think he’s flirting with me. I think he’s telling me I’m beautiful too.

Arcade finds us and points us toward the others. Once we are gathered, I hand out the bombs. Arcade gestures for us to follow her and takes off swimming. Her speed is incredible. Like the rest of my team, I have to depend on the glove to propel me forward, but once we get going, we take off like a shot.

The team slices through the water using the dim light from the surface to keep us together. It isn’t long before Arcade comes to a halt. She points first at our concussion bombs, then just ahead of us. She makes a monster face. It’s ridiculous, but it gets the point across. The Rusalka are near.

I press the button on my canister, then use my glove to send it torpedoing in the direction Arcade has pointed. I watch it zip away into the darkness, then watch my team mimic my actions. Eight more bombs shoot ahead and vanish into the pitch-black. I turn to Riley to see if he might be able to tell me how long it will take before the explosion, only to be knocked backwards by an ear-shattering boom.

It jars every bone in my body and knocks me about. I spin in a dozen directions, so that I can’t tell which way is up. When I finally right myself, I search for my team. Most of them flailed out of control as well, but none of us have been injured.

Arcade waves at us frantically and swims furiously toward the explosion. The Rusalka are on the move, racing toward the shore. Kita’s plan is working! Arcade doesn’t hesitate. She charges after the creatures, slashing their backs and their legs with her blades. They scream in agony, and black blood pours out of them. It makes the water smell coppery, and I nearly gag knowing it is in my lungs. I shake it off. I can be sick about this later. Right now I have a job to do.