Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)(14)

“Good to hear,” she says. “Maybe you should act like it.”

Tires screech, and we turn our attention to the road. A sheriff’s car has come to a skidding halt, and its driver is staring at us. I can see she’s talking on her radio. We’ve had this happen to us a few times: an officer gives us a look that lasts a little too long, but never like this. I can see the panic on her face.

Bex shouts for Arcade while I slowly gather our things and put them back into the pack.

“If she gets out of the car, run,” Bex demands.

“Bex—”

“I said run!” she shouts. “Split up and we’ll meet back here at dawn.”

“If she gets out of her car, she will regret it,” Arcade says as she marches in our direction.

“Just don’t!” Bex begs. “She’s not your enemy. She’s a cop trying to keep people safe. You don’t need to attack her.”

“Nothing must stop us, Bex Conrad.”

“Just calm down. Maybe she’ll keep going if we don’t look like we’re freaking out over here,” I say, but I’m worried Arcade’s right. If the sheriff gets out of her car, she’s going to arrest us. She might even fire at us if we run. In fact, she’s probably calling for backup right now so other cops can fire at us too. Attacking her might be our only hope of escape.

The officer gets out of the car with her gun drawn. She’s a short woman, slightly round, with a broad brown face. Her eyes are huge and panicked, and her hands tremble. “Put your hands on your head right now or I will shoot!”

Bex does as she’s told, like a normal person would do, so I take my cues from her, if reluctantly. Arcade, however, refuses and in defiance steps toward the cop.

“Arcade—”

“You will not stop us, woman,” Arcade growls. “Put your gun down and go, or there will be a confrontation.”

“Please get in your car and drive away,” Bex begs.

“I know who you girls are,” the cop says. “I know what you are.”

“You don’t understand what’s going on,” I tell her. “You’ve been told a story about us, and it’s not true.”

“I don’t need your life story. Just stay put. There will be more officers here in a moment,” the cop promises, then pulls the hammer back on her sidearm.

“Please, let us walk away. We’re not out here to hurt anyone,” Bex cries.

“You put three cops in the hospital yesterday.”

“They took my parents, and I want them back,” I explain. “They’re good people, and I have to rescue them. You would do the same, right?”

“You murdered thousands of people!” the cop shouts.

“You don’t under—”

“Shut up! I’m not here to negotiate with you,” the cop barks, her words bigger than her body. She fires her gun, and it spits up dirt at Arcade’s feet. “The next shot will not be a warning.”

Arcade’s hand is swallowed in blue flames. Bex shouts at her to stop, but I can already hear the rumbling beneath my feet. The world slows down to a crawl, so that even the blink of my eye sounds like the slamming of a heavy door. Suddenly, a waterspout erupts beneath the sheriff’s car, forcing it off the ground. The geyser holds it there effortlessly, spinning it a little, until it comes slamming down on its side. The world speeds back to normal in a symphony of broken glass and smashed metal.

The force knocks the cop off her feet, and she falls hard to the ground. Arcade stalks toward the woman, her Kala sliding out of her forearms and shining like the sharp edge of a guillotine.

Bex is looking at me. She says nothing, but her eyes shout clearly enough. This is my responsibility. If Arcade kills this woman, she will blame me forever.

“Calm down,” I say, stepping between Arcade and the officer.

Arcade’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Are you challenging me, half-breed?”

“I’m making sure you don’t do something you’ll regret,” I say.

“I have few regrets,” she brags. “Get out of my way.”

“Then I’m going to fight you if I have to,” I say, hoping it sounds more confident to her than it does to my own ears.

The sheriff retrieves her weapon and climbs to her feet. She’s shaken, working on instinct, and I know that at any moment she might fire again. I turn to her, bracing for the bullet, but her eyes are confused. She looks dazed and set upon.

“Do you hear that?” she asks, and then my ears are pounded by the sound of a whipping wind, and from out of nowhere swoops a black helicopter directly overhead. It’s not like the kind they use on the news for traffic and weather. This one is long and sleek, like a bird of prey, and mounted on its sides are what look like rockets. From below I can see a logo painted on its belly—a white tower.

There’s a single shot. I hear it drill through the air toward us, and then I watch the sheriff’s body buckle. Her head flies forward, and she falls face-down into the dirt. The back of her head is gone, and there is blood everywhere.

Bex screams. I’m sure I would too if I weren’t in shock. The people in the helicopter just killed a cop. Wait! The people in the helicopter just killed a cop! That means they are definitely not with law enforcement. But then who?