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I flung myself to a sitting position, spitting water as I did. Jayd was sputtering full streams of the stuff.
For a second, I couldn’t locate the buoy. “Shit, shit, shit. Can you see them anymore?”
“No,” she answered.
It came out as frantic rasps. “Where the hell—”
There.
They were still there, thank God—though I could barely see them through the curtains of water. Damn, this crap was crazy. The rare times we got thunderstorms in LA, Mom told me it was the angels bowling, the rain their tears of laughter. Well, this was the angels laughing, sweating, and pissing at once, and I planned on having a chat with God about teaching them some manners. Thankfully, despite the fresh torrents, the buoy was still upright and everyone had managed to hang on—
Until a chunk of the far riverbank suddenly went under.
“Dammit,” I breathed. One second, there was an outcropping of trees, bushes, boulders, and even a couple of quaint wrought iron benches; the next, the scenic lookout was gone. Totally. Swallowed whole by the ravenous swell, its appetite barely sated by the park it had just devoured.
It wanted a new snack.
And the buoy was prime for the taking.
I gasped. Then screamed.
Unbelievably, the buoy held—but listed. Hard.
The jolt tossed Forryst and Fawna off.
Jayd and I shrieked, though I was positive I heard Crista’s outcry at the same time. She was loud enough to catch the angels’ attention though; they took a break from the pissing match to send one of the kids into Shai’s waiting grip. Jagger instantly latched onto Shai’s other arm, in order to keep him secured to the buoy—
As the other child was carried away by the current.
No wail from Crista now. She didn’t waste the time—not while pushing off the buoy and swimming after her little sibling.
“Fuck,” I croaked.
“Rahmié Créacu,” Jayd exclaimed.
I paced now, every step frantically bouncing, like a lunatic wind-up toy. I was helpless, useless, and probably a little mindless, my brain refusing to accept what I knew Shiraz was about to do.
I really hated it when I was right.
Sure enough, in he went. Right after Crista and the kid.
“Save them.” My tear-wracked plea was heard only by the wind and the rain, due to the deafening thwops of the helicopter on the air. As the aircraft hovered lower, dropping a rescue basket thingie toward Shai, Jagger, and the other child, I dropped to my knees, clenched hands together in my lap, and choked out once more, “Save them. Please. Save them, and I’ll even let the angels have a bye on their shitty manners today.”
