Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)(49)

“Bex, feel free to steal anything you want from my closet.”

I head to the bathroom to put it on, with Bex in tow.

“Something’s different.”

Again, I blush.

“Fathom was here last night.”

“NO WAY!” she shouts. It’s so loud, I have to clamp my hand on her big mouth while she jumps up and down. “Oh, Lyric, you are like a trouble magnet.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You thought Arcade was pissed at you for having that picture. Wait until she finds what else you’ve had,” she says.

“Gawd, do you have to say it like that?” I groan, then eye her sheepishly. “Am I horrible?”

“You love him, right? This isn’t a Stevie Brinks thing?”

“That was the third grade!”

“You knew Heather Stamp liked him, but you kissed him by the bumper cars anyway. It was scandalous. Arcade is not Heather Stamp. She can break you in half.”

“I know.” I cringe. “But I do love him.”

“You have got to tell her, Lyric. Maybe not right now, when we’re locked up like this, but soon. They’ve been together since they were little. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, but you need to be prepared for some of her hostility.”

“I am . . . I will be.”

“Still, you’re such a hussy,” she says with a giggle. “Shadow called it. The first time he saw the two of you together, he knew you’d be a couple.”

“Bex, back at the theater. Duck . . . did you—”

She shakes her head. “That was a hard day, and I really just wanted to crawl out of it, but no. I let him kiss me. I thought he might be a nice distraction, but it just made me sad. I miss my boy. He broke me for everyone else, Walker. He’s in my head, in my dreams. He’s hanging on more than he did back in the fifth grade.”

There’s a tap on the door.

“Ms. Walker, please!” Doyle calls from the other side.

I get dressed and say my goodbyes, making Dad promise to be nice to the spa ladies. I follow Doyle out into the hallway that leads to his park. Once we get there, we step onto the catwalk and descend a flight of metal stairs that lets out onto the lawn. The ground beneath me is as real as it looked from above, slightly spongy and cool, like the great lawn in Kaiser Park, back in Brooklyn. It takes me back to times when Shadow, Bex, and I would lie beneath a tree and smoke cigarettes she squirreled out of her mother’s purse. I reach down and let the tips of grass tickle my palms. I wonder if it will affect my allergies.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“Shut up, Doyle,” I say, irritated at how proud he is of his battlegrounds.

“Put this on,” he says, undeterred by my tone. He hands me a black skullcap. “I think the bandages will scare the little ones.”

“These kids need to get used to being scared,” I say.

“This place is supposed to be pleasant, or at least as happy as it can be. They’ll see plenty of ugly things later. Here, they’re safe.”

I slip the cap over my head and tuck it down over my bandages just as I hear a buzzer sound. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and tell myself to stay focused and wait for my opportunity. If you do everything right, you can destroy this place, and these kids will never know what they were being trained to do.

The double doors on the far wall open, and the children rush into the space. Familiar faces are among the crowd, and a few even smile and wave to me. Most hover around a nine-year-old with bushy black hair and sad blue eyes. I guess this is Georgia, Charles’s daughter. His last moments replay in my memory, the way he looked so eager before he pushed the elevator button, and how his head snapped back when the shot was fired. He was being brave. I wish I could tell Georgia, but Doyle asked me not to speak about it with her.

Angela Benningford’s children, with their bright red hair, gather around me. Angela was the last Sirena to be captured by the government, at least until they got my mom. The oldest of her kids is McKenna, who is my age, pretty with a pale complexion and freckles. She reminds me a bit of Luna, the Sirena girl who died when the Rusalka arrived. I realize that all Angela’s kids are beautiful; in fact, every kid in this park is gorgeous. It’s the Sirena part of them.

Emma Sands and her two sisters, Tess and Jane, are brown-skinned supermodels. Danny Cho and his sister, Sienna, are adorable. Finn and Harrison Cassidy, the twins, are transitioning from cute little boys into handsome adolescents, but there’s something else about all the children I’m starting to notice. They all look tired. Many of them have dark rings around their eyes, a telltale sign I know all too well. They are all struggling with migraines. Samuel Lir and I had the same problem for most of our lives. They kept me awake, forced me to hide away in dark places until the pounding and the lights stopped. It all ended when I put on the glove.

Spangler follows them out, then wades through their midst, leading them all to me. His smile reaffirms our agreement, and he expects me to reciprocate. I nod and grin. He doesn’t need to know that my smile is motivated by revenge and the many ways I intend to destroy everything around me and bring the roof down on his head.

“Children, if you don’t know our new family member already, let me introduce you to Lyric Walker,” he says.

“She’s joining us here in the park every day as your new instructor, helping David with your training. Can everyone say hello?”