Raging Sea (21 page)

As I watch, I can’t help but think about what my family wants me to do and how it will turn their lives upside down.
Take the shot.
And then what?

If I go after Spangler, I will have to attack Fathom and Doyle and the guards and quite possibly the children. Chloe is hiding in a shrub near the carousel, her face as clear as if she were sitting right next to me. I wonder if she would try to stop me if I had a chance to get us out of here. Would Harrison? Georgia? Finn? Priscilla? Would Riley stand in my way too? Is Spangler’s hold on them so powerful that they can’t see the difference between right and wrong? It sounds far-fetched, but I’m not so sure it’s impossible. Fathom betrayed me to protect him, and he is the most strong-willed—no,
stubborn
person I’ve ever met. Even I felt it a bit when I was locked in that cell. I remember hearing the buzzer and leaping up to get into the circle. I was so eager to please. It hurts to admit it, but I wanted Spangler to be proud of me. I wanted to be a good dog.

I don’t know how to stop him without ripping the throats out of all his pack. First, I need to figure out how he’s blocking my glove. If I can find the switch, I can do some serious damage. I could find Arcade, and we could finish what we set out to do. She must be in the tank with the other Alpha, but—

“You’ll never make it work,” Doyle says. He’s been standing beside me the whole time.

“Make what work?”

“I can see what you’re thinking. You might as well put it on a billboard. You’re working on scenarios.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, then turn my back on him so he can’t see the lie.

“I’m not going to tell you to stop. It’s how you’re made. I’d do the same thing if I were you. We’re the same kind of animal. I’m just saying it’s not going to work. I helped design this place and—”

“You and I are nothing alike,” I hiss.

“Let’s work it out together. How do you get all the Alphas upstairs out of their tanks? How do you get all the parents out of solitary? How do you free these kids? How do you avoid the guards and Spangler and me and get your injured father out of his room and still turn off the EMP device all at the same time?”

“EMP?”

He chuckles. “I like you, Lyric. You’d make a good soldier. EMP stands for electo-magnetic pulse. It’s what’s turning off your power. It’s used in military-grade weapons to knock out electronics. Thing is, your weapon doesn’t run on electricity. We really don’t know what makes it work, but the EMP has the same effect. Any idea what makes that thing on your hand tick?”

“Always the soldier, Doyle. If I knew, I wouldn’t tell you. Unless you want to tell me where to find the EMP?”

He laughs. “So you’re going to try again?”

I don’t respond.

“You’ll fail, Lyric,” he continues. “You might kill Spangler, but they’ll replace him with someone worse.”

“I don’t plan to stick around to find out.”

“And what about the kids?”

“If you want to send a daycare center into a war zone, that’s really on you,” I say. “Because as much as you’ve trained them and prepared them, that’s a playdate down there and nothing more. Chloe won’t let go of her stuffed bunny. Geno can’t tie his own shoelaces. They’re not killers.”

“You underestimate them,” he argues.

I can’t stand to be near him any longer.

“Let’s get started,” I snap, then descend the steps to the park.

Spangler spots me and calls the children in from their games. The little army rushes to meet me and gathers around with their eager faces.

“Today is a big day, kids,” Spangler says. “We’re being joined by some new faces.”

The door opens, and Terrance Lir enters. He looks like he’s aged forty years. His eyes are watery, and his hair has turned white. He pushes a wheelchair with his son, Samuel, in it. I haven’t seen Sammy in so long. I run to his side and kneel down, hoping to catch his eyes.

“Sammy. It’s so good to see you.”

He struggles to look at me as his whole body shakes. When the gangs back home found out that he was half Alpha, they beat him and left him for dead. He was once a promising basketball star; now he can’t feed himself. He can’t talk, but he gives me a little smile to let me know he remembers me.

“They told me that we owe you our freedom,” Terrance says.

“I’m working on getting us all out of here,” I whisper.

He sighs, as if hope has let him down so many times, he can’t stand when it’s in the room.

“Take care of my son,” he says, then walks back through the doors.

“C’mon,” I say. I push Samuel until we are standing in front of the group. “Children, this is Samuel Lir. He is one of us. His father is Sirena, and his mother is human. Sammy here is going to keep us company while we train.”

“That’s not all,” Spangler interrupts. “That’s not the end of the surprises. I have presents.”

The doors open, and a parade of scientists in lab coats stream through, carrying large silver cases and video equipment. They put everything down at Spangler’s feet, then go to work setting up cameras and tripods. As they finish, Spangler unlocks the cases, revealing a collection of gloves identical to mine. He removes one and holds it out for all the children to see.

“Fathom brought one for each of you,” he promises.

Fathom enters and the children thank him, then they crowd around Spangler, reaching for the glove like it’s a bag of free candy.

“Now, now, let’s line up and—”

Fathom tries to catch my eye but I refuse to look at him. His presence makes me angry. I can’t tell whether giving the children gloves or the person who brought them is more disgusting.

“Wait!” I shout.

Spangler gives me a wary look, and I’m chilled.

“What is it, Ms. Walker?”

“If you put one on, you need to know that it doesn’t come off.”

One of the teen girls steps forward. I think her name is Abigail. She looks confused. “Ever?” she asks.

“I don’t know about ever, but I think so. When you go out into the real world, people will see it, and everyone will know you are different. People may react with fear and anger because you have it on. Lots of people don’t understand what we are, and it scares them—”

“Because of the sickness,” Spangler interrupts. “But soon they’ll understand that you aren’t contagious. When that happens, you’ll all be seen as the heroes you are. Now, there’s something that I didn’t mention. The Oracles will take away your migraines.”

Chloe takes my hand. The rings around her eyes are deep and purple. She must have been up all night with headaches.

“Is that true?” she asks. There is so much hope in her eyes, and why shouldn’t there be? If I had known that I could be free from my pain if I wore a cool metal glove that gave me superpowers for the rest of my life, I would have leaped at the chance.

I nod, defeated.

“I want mine!” Riley cheers, pushing to the front of the line.

Spangler hands him one, and the boy turns it over and over again in his hands, studying the metal and the carvings. He fumbles with it, trying to put it on the wrong hand, until Doyle flips it over and closes it with a snap. It locks itself in place, and Riley’s eyes glow like someone turned a strobe light on inside his skull. A second later, his hand joins the laser light show.

“Whoa!” he says. “That’s crazy.”

Scientists buzz around him, taking pictures and videos. One waves a machine that looks like a Geiger counter over the boy. Its needle bounces around wildly.

“How do you feel, Riley?” Spangler asks.

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Please try,” Spangler says. “We’re making history here. There are lots of people who would like to know everything they can about this experience. It could lead to other kinds of discoveries.”

“It’s like being dropped into a bottle of soda,” I say.

Riley smiles at me.

“Yeah, just like she said.”

The other children chatter excitedly.

“My head doesn’t hurt at all!” he continues. “Just like you said, Donovan.”

Spangler taps on his tablet, and suddenly Riley’s eyes open wide with surprise.

“I hear a voice!”

I hear one too. It’s telling me to take the shot, but both Spangler and Doyle are watching me like hawks. Fathom takes a step closer to me, presumably to have a better position if he has to attack me.

“What does the voice say, Riley?” one of the scientists probes.

“It’s whispering to me, asking me if I want it to do anything. I swear it’s coming from the pool underneath us. Who is it, Lyric?”

Everyone turns to me.

“A friend of mine named Ghost believed that the voice belongs to the Alpha god, the Great Abyss,” I say, feeling like a phony. I’m the last person in the world who should be explaining the religion.

Cole is the next to get his glove, then Tess, Emma, Jane, Finn, Alexa, Dallas, Priscilla, Pierre, Harrison, and Geno. Spangler hands each kid one with a smile. They help one another put them on, and once each glove is in place and snaps shut, the children’s eyes shine like supernovas. They celebrate and chatter incessantly about how it feels or how their brains don’t hurt or what they want to do with this incredible power they have just been given. Each time I hear a glove snap shut, I die a little more, knowing that another life is forever changed. Chloe is the last one to get a glove, and she holds it out in front of her hands and studies it closely.

“Doesn’t Samuel get one?” she asks, looking to the boy in the wheelchair.

“I’m not sure that Samuel could make it work, Chloe,” Spangler explains.

Chloe frowns.

“That’s not fair. If he can’t have one, then I want to give him mine,” she argues.

“Chloe, now honey, I don’t think you understand.”

Harrison steps forward and pulls Spangler out of the conversation. He has a million questions about the carvings and the metal and how it works. Meanwhile, Chloe looks at me with her sad, tired face. She doesn’t understand that Samuel is a broken kid who serves no purpose to Spangler other than to keep me satisfied.

When all the children have their gloves, the pool is opened and the kids are ushered to its side. The scientists lug their instruments and cameras over and set them up to eagerly watch what happens next. I guess that’s my cue to start.

“All right, I’m going to be honest. I’m not much of a teacher, but I think that starting small and simple is the best strategy.”

“That means you kids can’t throw me in the pool on the first day!” Spangler says.

The children laugh at his joke. They believe that my attempt to kill him was just a stunt.

“The gloves were invented by—”

“Oracles, Lyric. We call them Oracles. We’ve trademarked the name,” Spangler insists.

“They were invented by the Nix, a clan in the Alpha Nation that is known for their work in science and math. The gloves were meant to help the Rusalka with their headaches, because the Rusalka were once part of the Alpha Nation as well. Now, before you start thinking the Nix were being nice, the Rusalka were practically slaves. Their clan did all the hard work, and if they had headaches, everything slowed down, so these gloves—”

“Oracles!” Spangler says.

“These Oracles were supposed to be medicine. Now, like lots of medicines, they had a side effect. When the Rusalka put them on, they found not only that their headaches were gone, but also that they could manipulate water. No one really knows why.”

“Was it just the Rusalka?” Breanne asks.

“No, some Alpha could use them. Ghost had one, and his girlfriend Luna. There was a boy named Thrill. I have a friend named Arcade who is a Triton, and she wears one.”

“Where is she?” Riley asks.

I turn to Spangler, and every eye follows.

“She’ll be here soon,” he promises.

“Great! So, the Rusalka were suddenly very powerful, and they realized they didn’t have to be slaves anymore. Long story short, the Alpha refused to let them live in freedom, so the Rusalka declared war on the rest of the empire, and here we are now.”

“So, the Rusalka aren’t actually evil?” a blond teen asks from the back. I think her name is Sophie.

The rest of the kids have the same confused expression on their faces.

“Thank you for the history lesson, Lyric. Maybe we should move on to your demonstration,” Spangler insists.

I shrug and lift my hand high over my head. The glove goes off like a bottle rocket, and the children watch me in stunned silence. I hear my mother telling me to take the shot, but Doyle is right. It’s not going to work, at least not today. I need to make a plan, and until I do, there are just too many moving parts. I need to wait for my moment, just like I did when the silver bowl wouldn’t go through the slot. Someone will make a mistake. I just have to be ready.

For the next few minutes, I use the pool water to create a number of different objects, from spears to tridents to enormous fists. Anything my imagination can conceive becomes a living sculpture of liquid.

“Anything you can imagine, you can make, but I suggest you stick with things you’ve seen in real life. If you understand how long something is or what it’s actually made of, then it’s easier to mold that shape. I know what a hammer looks like. I know how heavy it is. I can use that information to make a larger version. I know a sword is long and pointy—you get what I’m saying. Stick with real-world stuff today. Tomorrow we’ll get creative.”

A blast of liquid springs out of the pool and morphs into the shape of an anaconda. It wraps around Riley and lifts him off the ground. The children gasp.

“It’s okay. I won’t hurt him,” I say, looking little Chloe directly in the eye. “I promise I will never hurt any of you.”

“It’s cool,” Riley says, and his grin is bigger than ever. “But you’re getting my tracksuit wet!”

I set him down, and he leads the applause.

“Water is liquid, but it can be solid, too. You can pack it together to make it dense. You can thin it out to make rain. It’s up to you. So, everyone, let’s aim your gloves at the pool,” I say. “I guess you don’t actually have to point it at the water, but it helps me to focus if I do. Good. All right, now concentrate on the surface, and let’s see if you can affect it. Try to make a little ripple. It doesn’t have to be big. It can be a tiny thing, like you dropped a stone into a still pond. You’ve seen a ripple a million times.”