Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)(62)

Doyle clears his throat.

“Lyric has been working with Fathom in the pool. Naturally, he’s teaching her fighting techniques that I cannot. She’s progressing as well as can be expected, but she could improve if you didn’t turn off her connection to the water.”

“Hmm. I’m not sure we’re going to be able to arrange that at this time.”

“The children continue to excel at their mixed martial-arts training, though based on sheer size and strength, few of them will pose any real threat to a Rusalka. They simply aren’t strong enough. They’ll have to rely on their Oracles when we deploy, another reason to turn on the connection permanently. The children could use the practice.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Spangler says absently. “Lyric, how goes it with your students?”

“Geno, Riley, and Georgia are the best,” I say.

“And the others?”

“Twelve are very good. Of them, Finn, Ryan, and Harrison are on the verge of a breakthrough. That leaves sixteen who, as of right now, can barely make a ripple and will be killed the second they step on the beach. You might as well send a bunch of rabbits to fight in their place. Chloe doesn’t have a glove, so sending her at all is a death sentence.”

“Yes, Chloe needs a glove. The contract is for thirty-three soldiers, and I’ve got thirty-two gloves. I was going to take Samuel’s from him before I saw his CAT scans. I am so glad I waited.”

Doyle leans forward in his seat, his face choleric.

“You were going to amputate his hand?”

“Obviously I can’t do that now. He’s a walking medical miracle. My shareholders would have my head if I ever did something like that. That’s not good business.”

“It’s always business with you,” I hiss.

“She doesn’t get it, does she, Doyle? Lyric, everything is about business, which leads me back to my problem. When it’s a government contract, you really can’t be short. I reached out to the client to explain, hoping there might be some wiggle room due to the unique situation and complexities of what we’re doing, but negotiations fell apart. I have to give them what I promised.”

Instinctively, I tuck my hand back behind me.

“Oh, not you, Lyric. You’re number thirty-three and the best of the best. No, I’ve had to get creative.”

There’s a knock at the door, and when it opens, there’s another wheelchair. This one has Arcade in it. Her head is tilted to the right and her eyes are rolling in her head. She’s drugged and doesn’t seem to know where she is, but she has a moment when she focuses on me. Her hands go up to strike, and that’s when I realize one of them is missing and her arm is now wrapped in white gauze.

“Oh, no,” I whisper, too horrified to scream.

“I will kill you slowly,” she slurs as she swings wildly in the air.

“What have you done?” Doyle gasps.

“I need the two of you to understand the dire nature of what is happening, because things have gone from bad to worse. Rusalka have attacked lower Manhattan. They control everything south of Twenty-Third Street. It’s pushed our timetable up. Chloe has her glove, and this time I made sure it went on her hand. I even locked it in place myself. She’s ready to be trained. I know you’re very close with her, Lyric, so I’m hoping you’ll do your best to help her learn to use it. Delivery is in three days.”

“Three days! They won’t be ready!” Doyle cries, getting up from his chair so fast, it topples over. I’m too hypnotized by Arcade’s stump to notice.

“The client paid for the product, and now it’s time to ship it.”

“The product,” I say.

“You’re sending those kids to their graves!” Doyle rages.

“I’m trying to save the world!” Spangler shouts. “That’s our job, David. The Rusalka, the Alpha—whatever else is out there—they’re coming for us. The kids are our only chance. You can cry in your bunk because they have to do the heavy lifting, but those are the cards we’ve been dealt. They’re going, and when you’re an old man sleeping in your bed and not worrying about mutated fish people coming to kill and maim your family, you’ll see the price wasn’t that high. Thirty-three children for the lives of millions, that’s hardly a price at all!”

Spangler turns to me.

“Three days. Those kids can learn a lot from you in that amount of time. I suggest you get to work.”



I wheel Arcade back to my room because the thought of leaving her with Amy is too frightening to imagine. I’m hoping my mother will know what to do, or my father, who was trained in first aid when he became a cop. Bex will be good for her too. Their friendship, if you can call it that, is complicated, but I do think they respect each other.

When I get her into the room, my mother lifts Arcade out of the chair and lays her on one of the beds. Bex rushes to get some cool washcloths, and my father checks her pulse.

“It’s slow but not dangerous,” he explains. “The sedatives they gave her are most likely the cause.”

“He should know,” Bex says, not having to explain who “he” is to me.

I nod, and suddenly my anger at Fathom is gone. Yes, he should see her. I go to the door and beg the guard to bring Fathom to my room. The guard is lazy but eventually relents and heads off as soon as a replacement comes to take his post. I wait outside until Fathom appears. His face has a tentative smile, and his eyes are hopeful. He thinks I’ve changed my mind about him.