Cape Storm

The Warden holding me down—I realized it was Kevin, as I focused on his face—gave me a solid right cross, trying to put me out.“You’ll have to beat me harder than that,” I told him, very seriously. “Come on, Kevin, dig deep. Hurt me like your stepmother taught you.”

He went pale, and I felt his grip on me loosen. Too easy. I threw him off, not particularly caring where he landed, and stalked to Cho.

Before I reached her, we all staggered as a massive subsonic boomrocked the decking.

Far beneath the Grand Paradise,the seafloor collapsed into a massive trench, sending a crush of seawater flooding downward to fill the sudden mile-deep gap. For a moment, a significant section of the sea dipped into a concave bowl—not by much, distributed over such a huge and adaptable area, but enough.

And a wave formed, rushing over the depression, gathering strength and speed and energy.

Rushing straight at our port side. It would take a minute to get to us, maybe more—not much more, though. We were in deep water, not shallows; that was the only thing that might save us. To survive, the ship had to turn into the wave.

I needed to stop it from turning.

“Jo.” That was Cherise, laying her hand on my shoulder. “Jo, stop.”

I turned to look at her, and I saw fear ignite in her eyes. “Oh God,” she breathed. “Oh my God—”

She was so fragile. So easy.

Cherise’s fear was like incense rising on the air, and I wanted more of it. All of it.

Every last, red drop.

She raised her chin, and the fear faded.

“This isn’t you,” she said. “And I think you can stop it, Jo. You’re the hero.”

She was wrong. I wasn’t the hero now—if I ever had been. What I’d done to Lewis was proof of that. What I’d triedto do with the tornado.

Part of me still liked Cherise, but it was a small part, and it was getting smaller all the time, like a tiny island of color in an inky flood.

I didn’t hurt her. I’m not really sure why.

I felt the shudder beneath my feet, as the Grand Paradise’s enormous bulk began to make its ponderous, city-blocks-wide turn toward the wave that was sweeping closer.

I looked up, drawn by a pulse of power, and saw Lewis and David standing on a balcony above us. Arguing.

David tried to turn away.

Lewis grabbed David by the fabric of his shirt. His lips moved.

David disappeared. No misting, no sense of transition, just . . . gone.

And Lewis didn’t look surprised. I was—not just by David’s sudden vanishing act but by the sensation that rippled through me, liquid and hot and wrong.

What just happened?

Lewis shoved something in his pocket as he vaulted the balcony railing. He landed flat-footed, keeping his balance on the still-lurching deck with one hand on the railing. “Get everybody inside!” he yelled. “Everybody!”

Cherise turned and began pushing people to the nearest entrances. People seemed more than motivated to follow instructions, for once—in fact, there was a traffic jam until officers began fu

I didn’t follow. I stood at the railing, hands folded, calm and content. It was all unraveling around me.

All I had to do was enjoy the ride down.

The ship had managed to slew around at an impressive rate, but the waves kicked up as the Wardens’fears eroded their concentration. It significantly slowed our progress.

Lewis joined me at the railing, far enough away that it indicated he knew what a risk it was to be near me.

“Where’s David?” I asked. I looked over at him, noting the healing burns on his hands. I wondered if it hurt. I certainly hoped so.

“Where you can’t hurt him,” Lewis said. “I know what’s happening to you.”

I shrugged. “So you know,” I said. “Can you stop it?”

“Do you want me to stop it?”

I laughed. That was probably enough of an answer.

On the horizon, there was a mountain. One big rising mass, heading for us. At this rate, we didn’t have another minute. Maybe thirty seconds, I was guessing.

Maybe less.

“The ship will capsize,” I said. “You can’t turn fast enough. Where are the Dji

“Gone,” Lewis said. “For their own protection. We’re all alone now.”

David wouldn’t have run, not to save himself. He was foolish that way. “You’ve done something.” He didn’t deny it. It was big, whatever it was; it was more than likely an unforgivable sin. But Lewis was the sort to make that choice, if he had to. Or thought he had to. “Something to David?”

He didn’t answer me directly. “We’re going to capsize, even if that wave doesn’t hit us broadside.” And it probably would. We just didn’t have enough time to hit it bow-first.

“You could turn it,” I remarked. He locked stares with me, and his eyes were bleak, tired, and frightened.

“No, I can’t,” he said. “You can.”

I smiled. “I won’t.”

I felt the front of the ship dipping down, and then rising, more like a speedboat than a giant of the seas.

Lewis seemed very calm. Very tall and still, hair ruffling in the wind. There was a glow about him, a power that I couldn’t remember seeing before.

As the mountain of water roared down at us, I turned and walked calmly toward the nearest door.

Cherise and one of the white-coated officers waved me urgently on. Cher grabbed my arm and pulled me over the high threshold, and the officer slammed the door shut and turned the locking mechanism.

“Hatch twenty-three sealed!” he shouted into his radio, in the high-pitched voice of utter panic. I took a moment to look around. It was a bar, large and casual, but all the bottles and glasses had been stowed away, and the place had an unfinished look to it. The room was packed with refugees, some of whom were gazing longingly at the bar as if they wondered where all the rum had gone. I spotted Cho Wing and three other Wardens, all seeming tense and expectant. They knew what was coming. The civilian passengers seemed confused and a little bored.

The bridge officers assuredly knew that their worst fears were coming true; they could see it from their windows.

Cherise was chattering at me, trying to get me to take cover. I shook myself free. She gave me one last, despairing look, then wedged herself in a corner and tipped an armchair over herself.

I heard the wave coming, even through the steel plates. I felt the rumble of it.

The bow of the Grand Paradiselifted sharply, and kept rising, rising. Tables and chairs started sliding, and people screamed and clung to whatever was within reach, stable or not. I heard glass crashing; that was probably unsecured stock somewhere under the counters.

A huge wooden cabinet, designed to look primitive and rough-hewn, began to topple down from one wall. There were six people beneath it. I watched with placid interest.

Cho yelled a warning. One of the Earth Wardens flung out a hand and stopped the falling cabinet.

Disappointing.

A racing bite of energy spread over me like a hot blanket of fire, concentrating on my back and then flowing down my arms and into the core of my body. I went down to one knee, bracing myself as the horizon continued to rise toward the sky. People slid past me, screaming, flailing. I didn’t pay much attention.

“We’re going over!” someone shouted amid the chaos and crashing furniture. We were still climbing. The floor passed a forty-five-degree upward angle, heading for vertical, and I felt the whole ship slip sideways, twist, and start to tumble out of control.

We were falling.

Then we stopped falling, and the ship’s torturous descent changed, smoothed, and entered an eerie kind of calm. The ship slowly drifted back to a stable, horizontal line, but it didn’t feel like we were in flat seas. It didn’t feel like we were in the water at all.

I rose and walked to the large picture window that commanded a view of the promenade.