Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)(65)

“There is tradition, Fathom, Son of Triton,” she argues. “The traditions of our empire and our clan that existed for thousands of years before the Alpha. We can’t cast them off.”

“The Triton are no more. What are the uses of traditions designed for a prince when there is no kingdom to rule? There is only now, and those who still live, and we can build a new way. You could be with him, Arcade.”

“Who?”

“The one you love.” He smiles. “I have eyes, you know.”

I am so lost right now. All I know is that she doesn’t look like she wants to kill me.

“I release you,” he says.

“And I you,” she whispers.

“Don’t do this for me,” I insist.

“I do not do anything for you, half-breed,” Arcade snarls, and stalks past me. She bends and kneels before my mother.

“Forgive my insult, Daughter of Sirena,” she begs.

My mother rests her hand on Arcade’s head, then helps her stand.

“You have my respect, young one,” she says.

Arcade allows the two guards to escort her back to the room, and soon she is gone.

“Um, what just happened?” Bex whispers.

“Lyric Walker, we need to have a talk,” my mother growls from across the room.

Bex turns her head so my mother can’t see her laughing at me.

“Please tell me I’m going to get to hear the two of you talk about how you ‘mated,’” she whispers.

I wave my glove at her. “You’re lucky they turned this off.”





Chapter Nineteen


I PRACTICE ON MY OWN. SPANGLER AGREES TO TURN OFF THE EMP, and I conjure the most violent creations ever, each one of them ripping him limb from limb in my imagination. There is so much anger and frustration in me, it fuels a surge in my control. Suddenly my ability multiplies tenfold. I experiment with different shapes, more shocking attacks. I can make a pretty wicked whip that can slice a tree in two. Arcade was right. I was holding back.

When the children file in, I’m expecting sleepy, but what I get is solemn. Tess, Emma, and Jane, already frail to begin with, look as if they might crumble under the weight of their own grief. William and Leo are distraught, as are Angela Benningford’s children. Spangler stands with them and does his best to look concerned. When Riley spots me, he breaks off from the rest and hurries to my side. His eyes are red and bewildered.

“What happened?” I ask.

“Their human parents died from the sickness,” he says.

“What?”

“Donovan says the doctors did all they could to save them. Lyric, I’m worried about my mom. She’s been in the infirmary for almost two years. She could be next.”

Spangler moves from child to child, giving them each his sad face and a hug, but his eyes are on mine daring me to react. These kids didn’t lose their parents to a sickness. Spangler had them killed to give the children some raw emotion to fuel their weapons. It’s so evil, it’s staggering.

“This is a tragedy,” he has the nerve to say. “And I’m afraid I only have more bad news. We’ve discovered that the illness your parents have contracted was created by the Rusalka. They brought the disease to the shore on purpose in hopes of infecting as many people as they could. They don’t care about human life, kids. They don’t understand what’s important to us—family, compassion, and freedom, and they hate us for it. I want you to think about that when you’re training with Lyric and David today. If you’re feeling anger, heartbreak, and revenge, then use it. Let it power you.”

Riley leads me over to the group and I step through the crowd to wrap my arms around as many of the kids as I can.

“I am so sorry,” I say.

“We need to practice,” Cole says through tears. “I’m going to make them pay for killing my dad.”

His glove shines bright, as do all the others. They raise their hands and they radiate so intensely, I have to shield my eyes.

By the end of the session, every child manages to move the water, some with explosive and violent results. The loss has activated more than their power. It has ignited a call for vengeance, turning them all into killers. Spangler watches his handiwork with proud satisfaction.

“You’re going to get justice for your families,” he says as the children leave for the day. He pats each one on the back and tells them all to be brave. He tells them that only they can make sure no one died in vain.

Chloe hangs back for a moment and gives me a hug.

“If my mommy dies, will you take care of me?”

I kneel down so that my eyes are level with hers, then press my forehead against her own. Her skin is cool.

“Nothing is going to happen to your mommy. I promise,” I whisper. “Go with the others. Get some rest.”

Chloe runs off with her stuffed rabbit in hand, leaving Spangler and myself alone in the park. We stare hard at each other, the tension between us stretching taut to the point of snapping.

“Two days,” he says to me, as if it justifies murder.

I hear the doors crash open and watch Doyle racing toward us. He tackles Spangler and knocks him to the ground. “You filthy—”

“I told you to get it done. You failed, so I took care of it.”