Raging Sea (30 page)

“I don’t think you understand what the word
rescue
means,” I snap. “You kept me from destroying that place, Fathom. I could have brought it all down on Spangler’s head. We could have gotten the children out and their parents, too. Don’t you realize what you did? There are Alpha back there in those tanks who would be free today if you had not gotten in my way.”

“Escape was never a question, Lyric Walker. For our plan to work you needed to train the children to use the Voice, and I needed to train you to stay alive.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” I cry. “Fathom, those kids back there aren’t warriors, and no amount of preparation is going to help. They’re babies and you may have killed them all.”

“No!” he shouts angrily. “They are not babies, Lyric Walker. They are hope. They can save us all, and you will lead them.”

“I’m seventeen!”

He takes another step toward me, grabbing my shoulders in his strong hands and giving me a shake.

“I will hear no more of how you are small. I will not listen to any further nonsense about your weakness. They are lies you tell yourself that no one else believes. I love you with every drop of my blood, and I know any chance of winning your affection is slim, but I cannot walk away without saying this to you. It is time to stop acting delicate. You are not fooling me. I see what you are.”

“And what’s that?” I shout, pulling myself away.

“You are a raging sea!” he bellows.

He takes a few breaths to calm himself, then looks out to the ocean.

“Yes, I manipulated you to get you here. I prevented you from escaping and blocked your plans, but the world needs you. The safest place the children can be is a step behind you,” he says, then turns back to me. “There are thousands of Alpha waiting for battle, men and women who have proved their courage countless times, and all of them have pledged to follow you into the Great Abyss. You are the only chance we have. Ghost knows this. My people know this. I know it.”

“Aaargh!” I cry. “I can’t stand any more of this Triton craziness. Are you telling me you put me in danger because you love me?”

“I did not put you into danger; you are already in danger. I brought you here to fight because I know you are capable of destroying what the rest of us cannot. This is not Triton craziness. This is how I love you. The soft-handed humans may believe their women need to be protected. They teach you to hide and lock yourselves away. If that is what you want, you will find plenty who will happily underestimate you. My love expects you to be what you are—no more and no less.”

Fathom takes off the boots that White Tower gave him. He rolls up the bottoms of his jumpsuit and lets his blades slice through his shirtsleeves.

“Stay alive, Lyric Walker,” he says; then, with a blast of wind, he speeds toward the shore, sending sand up in his wake. He cuts Rusalka down in his path but does not slow. Into the water he leaps, disappearing in the frothy waves.

“You do the same,” I whisper.

S
OMETIME AFTER DUSK, THE RUSALKA MAKE A SUDDEN RETREAT.
One moment they are fighting; the next they march back into the sea. Some of the children celebrate, but Kita tells us that this always happens before they send another wave. His words are followed by screaming sirens. I order the children to the windows and tell them to push back any waves away from the resturant. There’s an eerie silence, then the trembling of glass in window frames. A massive crash hits the beach, like a giant punched the side of the building. It knocks a few people down, and dust trickles from the rafters. We wait in silence for a second strike, but it doesn’t happen, and Kita tells us to relax.

“They must not have as many gloves as we thought,” I tell him.

“What makes you think so?”

“They could easily knock this building down with a little combined effort,” I explain. “We are able to push their attack aside.”

“The prime has these animals spread out up and down the East Coast,” he tells me. “Maybe he’s a little thin.”

“Thin is good,” Jackson says, then turns to me. “Do you think your team could make a wave for us?”

I look out at the kids, huddled together for warmth.

“I don’t know,” I confess.

There is a flurry of activity and noise on the beach. I watch heavy machines roll along the sand, creating huge dunes between the water and the building. Inside, soldiers shout orders at one another and plead for assistance on radios and telephones.

My father is eager to help. He divides the team into two groups, urging one half to try to get some sleep while the others continue to watch the windows. I think sleep is wishful thinking, but to be honest, I really don’t have a better plan. When I was in kindergarten, the teacher used to make us take naps to keep us busy. Maybe it will work for them.

Riley looks tired, but he stays alert and positive. He does his best to keep everyone’s spirits high. He tells the little ones that they are brave and the older ones that they’re amazing. He’s so good with them. He seems to know what to say and who needs a little attention. Everyone brightens when he’s near. It’s almost magical. I wish I had a little of his charm. It seems like I did once upon a time, but it’s hard to remember that Lyric Walker.

“You need a pep talk?” he asks me.

I shake my head, even though I really do. I just don’t think lover boy wants to listen to me flail back and forth about Fathom. His words echo in my ears. He’s made me redefine everything I thought I knew. The hatred I have clung to so tightly has come undone and flaps in the wind like a filthy sheet. I have no idea how I feel.

He gives me a curious look.

“You think I don’t want to hear about it?” he says knowingly.

I blush. “You read minds too?”

“I read faces,” he says. “I’ll listen, but I doubt I’ll be very objective.”

“Who asked for objectivity?” I laugh.

“I’ve been wondering how I can compete with a guy like him. It’s odd to have superpowers and still feel insecure. So I’m just going to say this. You’re funny and you’re hot. I like you.”

“Short and sweet,” I say.

“That’s how I roll,” he says, then wanders off to talk with Harrison and Ryan.

Chloe lies next to me on the floor, her head resting on my leg as she sleeps. I watch out a window and listen to the crashing of waves. Coney Island’s electricity was knocked out by the first tidal wave and was never reconnected. For the first time in my life, the light pollution that kept the sky a dim yellow is replaced by galactic majesty. I see stars! It’s every bit as beautiful as the Texas version.

It’s almost amazing enough to make me forget the dramatic temperature drop that came when the sun went down. The wind is bitter and biting, and when it blows through the open windows, it howls in my ears. There’s not much in the way of blankets, and though the White Tower jumpsuits and jackets are padded, the children and I are freezing. For all of Doyle’s training, he didn’t prepare them for a frosty night by the ocean. Jackson hands out little red packs filled with something that feels like sand. When you shake them, they get hot, so I tell everyone to shove them in their boots and gloves. Finn puts one under his cap. It’s silly, but he says he feels better.

“You need a break?” my mother asks, gesturing to Chloe.

I look down at my sleeping sidekick and nod. My mother cradles her up in her arms, careful not to wake her.

“How is Dad?” I ask.

“Stubborn,” she says. “We need to get him out of here. This was not a good place to bring him or Bex.”

“I’ll talk to Jackson,” I say. “They didn’t give us much of a choice when we arrived.”

She takes the little girl away. I stretch out my legs and try to rub the feeling back into them, only to find that Arcade is standing over me. She looks restless and frustrated, basically how she looks all the time. I feel the pull of her missing hand, but I keep my eyes on her face.

“I know you hate waiting,” I say as sympathetically as I can. “I think we should let Kita come up with a plan.”

“The soldiers are fighting bravely. That is good enough for me,” she says as she kneels down next to me. With her back against the wall, she stares in the opposite direction as me. It’s uncomfortably close. Maybe not if she were Bex or, well, anyone else for that matter, but it’s an invasion of my personal space for someone who recently tried to kill me.

“My problem is with you,” she says.

“Are you going to kill me?” I ask.

Arcade shakes her head, but in the dark I can’t see if her face is as sincere as the gesture.

“What’s the Alpha punishment for a person who tries to steal your boyfriend?”

“Death.”

“Then you
are
going to kill me? Should I have been more specific? Are you going to kill me sometime in the future?”

“I seek to understand you,” Arcade whispers to me.

“I’m not sure I can help you with that,” I tell her. “I don’t understand myself most of the time.”

“You have rejected him?”

I look out the window to the ocean and wonder if Fathom found his friends.

“I did,” I say.

“I freed him of his obligations to me. The two of you are free to mate.”

“Ugh. What is it with you people and that word?” I grumble. “Do you really want to talk about this?”

She nods.

“He lied to me,” I explain.

“He told you of his plan?”

“Yes, after he manipulated me and used me to help him fight his war, he told me his plan,” I say.

She sits for a long moment as if flipping my side of the story over and over, studying angles and colors she didn’t see before.

“Yes, I didn’t see it in that way. I doubt he did either,” she says. “Our people are not known for avoiding conflicts.”

“I get that,” I confess, “but there’s other stuff too, Arcade. It’s . . . I don’t know how much drama I want in my life. Fathom and I are like fire and gasoline. We’re intense, and we burn really hot, but we’re dangerous. I keep getting scorched. I feel reckless when he’s near me, and I do things I wouldn’t normally do.”

“The mating?”

“Aaargh,” I say. “Keep it down? My dad is right there. You’re going to ruin his life. It’s . . . I knew he was with you, and I didn’t care. I don’t do things like that, not since Stevie Brinks in the third grade.”

“Who?”

I wave her off. “Never mind. It goes against the girl code.”

“You are a liar and a coward,” she says matter-of-factly.

“Um, okay. I thought we were making a little progress—”

“You love him, Lyric Walker, so do not lie. I don’t know what this word ‘drama’ is, but it sounds like something you have invented because you are afraid to feel what you do. Love, like war, is supposed to be overwhelming.”

“When did you turn into a therapist?”

“I know these things. I am a liar and a coward as well. When Fathom and I were children, our fathers committed us to each other. Such arrangements are rare and frequently lead to unhappy unions, but there are greater matters than happiness when it comes to leading an empire. Fathom, for his part, did his best to make our responsibility joyful. We have a deep bond.”

“Until I came along and ruined it,” I say, my way of apologizing again.

“You ruined nothing,” Arcade says. “I ruined it.”

I peer through the darkness, trying to read her face.

“So you are in love with someone else?”

“The humans named him Flyer,” she whispers.

“Fathom’s cousin? Does Flyer know?” I ask.

She looks offended. “Absolutely not!”

“Fathom knew,” I remind her.

“It appears I have not hidden my feelings as well as I had hoped.”

“Fathom says he’s out there,” I say, pointing toward the ocean.

She turns and cranes her neck for a better view, as if she might catch a glimpse of him.

“If you love this other guy, why did you threaten to kill me?” I ask.

“You broke the girl code,” she says.

“Wait, you actually know what that means?”

“Bex Conrad explained it to me in the desert. You violated many of its rules. She was quite incensed.”

“So she trash-talked me?”

“I do not know that term. I do know I was angry. You meddled in my relationship and used your disapproval of it as an excuse. That’s against the code.”

I can’t help but laugh.

“I am sorry I broke the code,” I say, throwing my hands up in surrender.

“We have a peculiar friendship, Lyric Walker,” Arcade says.

“I thought we were bitter enemies,” I say, so shocked, I can barely get the words out of my mouth.

“I kill my enemies,” she says. “I will not deny that there are certain things about you that I find trying and—”

“Let’s not ruin this special moment,” Bex interrupts as she crawls over to join us.

“Sorry if we woke you,” I say.

“It’s hard to sleep when everyone’s talking about mating.” She giggles.

“Oh, that’s war, Conrad. Now I’m going to have to say the word you can’t stand.”

“Don’t do it, Walker!”

“Moist.”

“Aaargh,” she growls, holding her hands to her ears.

“Are all humans mentally ill?” Arcade asks.

I’m woken by the sound of helicopter blades whipping the air outside the windows. It’s jarring. The last time I saw helicopters, they had White Tower logos on them, but these are military choppers designed to carry a dozen people. They land in the sand behind the building.

“What’s that about?” I ask when Jackson rushes into the room.

“That’s your ride,” he explains. “We’re going with Kita’s plan. Gather a team of ten and assemble the rest on the beach. We’re taking the prime out today,” Jackson insists. “Hurry, Lyric. We have to get you into the air before they launch another attack.”

I turn to the children and order them to gather. Chloe takes my hand, and we follow everyone onto the beach. With the team spread out before me, I mentally try to organize who should go with me and who should stay behind to fight the Rusalka stampede. It’s hard trying to find the right balance.

Kita meets us on the beach, flanked by a dozen soldiers trying to get his attention. He’s shouting at someone on the phone, demanding more artillery.