Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)(61)

“It’s a boy trick,” I say.

I rub my head beneath my hat, feeling the patchy hair slowly growing, and feeling self-conscious. I don’t feel beautiful.

“I think you’re beautiful,” I tell Chloe.

“Yeah, I know,” she says, then bursts into giggles, and I smile. I’m making a mini-me.

Chloe and I spend a lot of time together. I can’t help but care for her, stepping in to act as the mom when her real mom is probably floating in a tank not four floors above us. I find myself prodding her to eat more vegetables at lunch. She draws me pictures where the two of us are walking on rainbows. I hang them in my room. She sits with me in the grass, and we talk about home and how much she misses it. I rub her temples when her migraines attack. One thing I’ve noticed is how she changes the subject every time I ask about her parents. All she will say is that her daddy is a hero and her mother is fighting the war. She tells me it’s her turn to fight now, and she will, just as soon as she gets a glove.

“I’m glad you gave yours to Samuel,” I say, but I leave out that I can’t bear thinking about her on that beach, fighting things that will try to eat her.

“I know, but I don’t get to have fun like everyone else. I asked Donovan for my own glove this morning. He said he would get me one tomorrow.”

I hope it was an empty promise.



Fathom holds up his end of the deal and doesn’t talk to me about anything other than fighting. He focuses on our training and pushes hard. He wants me to swing faster, kick with more intensity. Fighting underwater is so impossibly difficult, and he has no patience with my excuses. He slams into me, pushes me around, and knocks me over with his speed and strength. He shouts at me and criticizes every move I make. He shoots derisive looks my way, which just spark a fight when we get out of the pool.

“You can’t come here and bark at me!” I shout.

Fathom springs out of the water, landing on the lawn in an effortless leap.

“You’re not working hard enough. The Rusalka are fast and merciless, and you are like a sea turtle fighting the current.”

“You and Arcade are clearly meant for each other!” I cry. “She was always telling me I was a loser too. I don’t care if the two of you think I can do better. This is all you get!”

“Arcade would never be this lazy,” he says.

I smack him so hard, it echoes off the rafters. Then I turn and stomp toward the door, mad at myself for needing to cry, but he’s in front of me so fast, I feel the wind blow against my wet swimsuit.

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” he says. “I can’t lose you.”

“You don’t have me,” I say bitterly, my eyes blinded by tears. “I always worried you would pick Arcade. In fact, I was prepared for it. Now I wish you had.”

He looks stricken. Can’t he see what he’s done? This is us now: we’re done, and it’s underlined in red. It’s what we’re going to be from now on, and it’s his fault.

“I don’t want to be part of some stupid clichéd love triangle, anyway.”

“What is a love triangle?” he asks.

“It’s when one person treats two others like losers, and the losers love it,” I say.

A soldier enters the room.

“Mr. Spangler would like to see you,” he says to me.

“Lyric Walker, you must talk to me,” he begs, but I turn and stalk out of the room.



Doyle is waiting outside Spangler’s office when I arrive.

“He wants to see us both,” he explains, but says he has no idea why. He knocks on the door, and after a moment it opens and we enter.

Spangler is sitting at a fancy glass desk littered with electronic gadgets. He smiles and gestures for us to enter.

“Doyle, Lyric, I believe you both know Samuel.”

Samuel Lir is sitting in his wheelchair off to the side, so I didn’t spot him at first. When we turn to face him, he does something I never thought I’d see him do again. He stands. It’s awkward and difficult, but he gets up and stays put. I cry out in both surprise and joy.

“Hello, Ly-ric,” he says, knocking me out again. It’s a miracle.

“How is this possible, Sammy?” I say.

He points to the glove. “I’m coming back, Lyric,” he says. He turns to Spangler. “I’m tired.”

“Of course you are,” Spangler replies. He presses some buttons on his tablet, then helps Samuel back into his wheelchair. “You’ve had an exhausting day, and it’s important to get some rest. We don’t want anything slowing down your progress.”

The door opens, and Rochelle and Terrance enter. Rochelle looks thin and tired, like they just took her out of her cell. Maybe they did.

“How?” I ask.

Terrance smiles at me with tears streaming from his eyes.

“I’m not going to question a miracle,” he says. He and Rochelle wheel their son out of the room. On the way out, Sammy waves at me, then rubs his head, a joke about my hair.

“The Oracle is an amazing device,” Spangler says once they’re gone. “I have a theory about it. Would you like to hear it? I don’t think it really moves the water. What I think it does is rewires your brain to force a leap forward in individual evolution. For Alpha, it adapted the Rusalka’s mind so it could control its environment more efficiently. The insurmountable complications of living underwater forced their society to be a nomadic hunter-gatherer tribe. Being able to control what was once uncontrollable gave them a chance at a permanent home. For Samuel, it’s taking on a different purpose: to allow him to walk and talk again. I’ve got the team working on it right now. If we can figure out how to adapt that technology for humans, the applications have limitless potential. A soldier could evolve into something bigger and stronger than the enemy. It could get an injured cop back on the streets. People could develop abilities we’ve never even imagined. It’s mind-boggling. So, how about an update on the children?”