Yadin only laughed. “Ah, the defiance of youth! It’s so much more entertaining to work with someone who has it. Yes, we have your lovely friend,” he added when Sawyer’s gaze fixed on Annika. “In a habitat created just for her. The others deserted you.” His voice softened, all but crooned. “Ran away to save themselves. Left you and her to die. Or worse. It will be worse, so very much worse, unless you give me what I want.”

“Do I look like I give a fuck what you want?”

“Oh, so young, full of that defiance. And handsome.” He scraped a nail lightly down Sawyer’s bare chest. “For now.”

He went back to a counter, lifted a tray, tipping it to show Sawyer what it held. When he got no reaction, he turned the tray toward Annika.

She saw knives, so many knives, and things that gleamed silver and sharp and would clip like scissors. For a moment she went mad, beating against the glass, kicking against it, screaming so the sound came through the tank and its speakers in a high, thin wail.

“You don’t want me to hurt him? How sweet. Perhaps I’ll wait on these.” He set them down. “But what will you give me for my patience? Mr. Malmon very much wants to see you in your true form. Be what you are, and perhaps I won’t hurt him.”

“Don’t. He’s lying. Don’t give him anything.”

Yadin turned, grabbed a weighted sap from the table, struck it viciously across Sawyer’s face. As blood spurted, Annika shot up to the top of the tank, threw herself against the lid.

“Crude, but effective. Shall I do it again. Yes, why not?”

He struck the other side of Sawyer’s face. When Sawyer went limp, Annika spun down, swirled out her tail.

“Ahhhh! Fascinating. And mesmerizing. You are a rare creature.”

The tank trembled when she whirled, fast, fast, then struck the glass with her tail. She whirled again, struck again. Prepared to strike a third time, but Yadin pressed some sort of stick against Sawyer’s chest.

The scream came first, ripping her heart, then his body shook and shook, with his eyes rolled back white. And the sounds he made were worse than the scream.

Yadin turned again as Sawyer gasped, as his head fell on his chest. “That was a light touch, do you understand? Do that again, and I’ll fry his brains in his skull.”

She sank to the bottom, stared her fury through the glass.

“Better. Now, why don’t we . . . Ah, Mr. Malmon. As you see, we’re making some progress.”

Unlike Yadin, Malmon wore white, the shirt cuffed at his wrists. Though dark glasses shielded his eyes, Annika felt the burn of them as he stared at her.

“Glorious. She’s glorious. I believe I’ll keep her, at least for a time. Be sure not to damage her—at least in any way that shows.”

Dismissing Annika, Malmon turned to Sawyer. “Not so cocky now, I see, but bleeding and beaten, chained like an animal. You might have had millions, but here you are.”

He stepped over, picked up the compass. “And I have the prize after all.” As if amused, Malmon picked up the prod Yadin had set aside, turned it in his hand, then jabbed it viciously into Sawyer’s belly.

Annika bowed her head, her tears sliding into the water as the terrible stick left small black burns on Sawyer’s skin, as it made his body shake and shake.

Then Malmon plunged his fist into Sawyer’s belly, and his body swung back so high, so violently, the shackles gouged his wrists bloody.

When Malmon lifted the stick as if to whip it across Sawyer’s face, Yadin stepped forward. “Mr. Malmon—”

Malmon whirled, his lips peeling back. Showing fangs.

Hastily, Yadin lifted his hands. Both fear and fascination flickered over his face, but he spoke in that same singing tone. “You can, of course, do as you wish. But if you want information from him, it requires a certain . . . delicacy, and patience.”

Malmon made a sound, like the hiss of a snake, but he lowered his arm. The hand holding the prod shook before he tossed it to the other man.

“Perhaps you’re right. Do your job.”

“Of course. Now, Mr. King, Mr. Malmon is very interested in how this device operates. If you explain, there’ll be no need for more pain. Then we can discuss the Stars of Fortune.”

His voice was hoarse, breathless, so he had to speak slowly. His left eye had swollen shut, but the right stared that defiance out of the blood and bruising.

“Sure. Boy Scout Manual. You can look up how to work a compass.”

“I like your style.” With a smile, Yadin shoved the prod into Sawyer’s chest.

The oath was sacred. Never to use the siren’s song on humans. But these men, Annika thought, as Sawyer’s body convulsed again, these men weren’t human. This was evil, and she would do what she could.

She drew it up from inside her, the song used to lure men, to enslave them. And lifting her head, gave it voice.

Yadin glanced back at her, the cruel smile curving his lips. “She sings. Perhaps a dirge for her companion. It’s . . .” Then his mouth softened, his eyes glazed. “So beautiful. Can you hear it? It’s so beautiful.”

The melody poured out of her, sweet, so sweet, so alluring. Through the water, her eyes glowed green.

The men at the entrance to the chamber put down their guns, walked forward as if in a trance. Though Sawyer’s head lolled, his body relaxed. His lips curved. She heard him murmur her name, as if in a dream.