Bay of Sighs (25 page)

“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.

Malmon grabbed Yadin's arm, yanked. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“She is beyond compare. She must be free.”

“Have you lost your— A siren's song.”

Rushing to the tray, Malmon picked up a knife, spun behind Sawyer, held it to his throat.

“One note more, one more, and I slit his throat.”

She stopped, pressed a hand to her mouth to show silence. Before he withdrew the knife, Malmon slid the edge lightly over Sawyer's throat to draw blood.

“One note more,” he repeated. “Snap out of it,” he ordered Yadin, and tossed the knife down.

“She . . . She ruled me.” On a laugh, Yadin moved closer to the tank. “I was a puppet on her string. How did you resist?”

“Obviously I have a stronger will. Punish her.”

“Of course.”

Yadin went to one of the machines, turned a control.

The water filled with pain, snapped and burned. That high-pitched scream sounded through the speakers as Annika's body thrashed in the water.

“Stop, stop, stop! She's no good to you dead or damaged.” Sawyer twisted his bloody wrists in the shackles.

“That'll do,” Malmon said, and as if he'd merely paused for a drink, once again picked up the compass. “I've only to think of a location—coordinates, as I understand it. And this will take me. And through time, as well.”

Malmon tapped the compass, tried to turn it, searched for a mechanism. “Where is the watch?”

“It's not as simple as that.”

“Isn't it? We'll keep it simple for the maiden voyage. To the villa and back again.” Malmon closed his eyes, murmured the coordinates he'd memorized.

And stayed exactly where he was.

“It's not ruby slippers, you idiot.” He'd keep them focused on him, Sawyer thought, keep their attention away from Annika. If he could somehow disable Malmon, she could sing. She could escape.

Nothing mattered more.

It cost him another vicious shock. When he could breathe again, he hissed out a laugh. “Yeah, that'll work. Keep that up, see where it gets you.”

“Convince him.”

With a nod, Yadin picked up a knife, set it down, a stiletto, laid it back. Settled on a scalpel. “I can slice him, dice him, clip off his thumbs, put out his eyes. It will take some time, and I'll enjoy it. But there are some who take the pain. And there is a quicker way.”

Yadin turned, gestured toward Annika.

“Convince him,” Malmon said again.

Yadin turned the controls, and Annika's world became agony.

Through it, through her own screams, she heard Sawyer, shouting,
cursing, begging. When the pain stopped, when she could only sink weakly to lie on the bottom of the tank, she looked through the glass at his bruised, bloody face, at the grief in his eyes. Could only shake her head.

Don't give them what they want, she thought, as hard as she could. Don't give them anything.

“I have to. Don't hurt her. Don't hurt her again. I can't tell you how it works. I can't tell you!” He all but screamed it when Yadin reached for the controls again. “I have to show you. Don't hurt her. Leave her alone, and I'll show you.”

“It's love, you see.” Yadin lifted his hands. “A man might suffer through unimagined pain for a cause, and die for it. But love? It defeats him.”

Malmon signed to one of the men. “Let him down. If you try anything, anything, Yadin will turn up the current. She won't die, but she'll never be the same.”

“I said I'd show you.” Sawyer dropped to his knees when the chain unhooked.

W
hen Sawyer reached out his cuffed hands for the compass, Malmon kicked him sharply in the ribs. In the tank, Annika slammed her tail into the glass.

Yadin turned, wagged a finger at her.

“Do you think I'll just hand it back to you?”

“I have to hold it. It's the only way to pass it to another. I . . .” He bought time, mind spinning, through a coughing fit. “The first traveling has to be done with me. It's the only way to pass it, and give someone else the right to use it. Fuck it, Malmon, I don't make the rules.”

He looked up then, so far into the pain he'd moved beyond it. “All I'm asking is you don't hurt her. You're going to kill me, once you've got the compass. That's the way it goes. But you've got no reason to hurt her. She's caught.”

Malmon leaned down, gripped Sawyer by the throat. Nails longer, sharper than they should have been pricked through the skin. “Where is the Fire Star?”

“I don't—”

“Hit her again, Yadin.”

“No, no, no. Bran's hidden it with magick. I can take you to where it is, but I swear to God, I don't know if I can get to it, actually get to it. I can take you, show you. For fuck's sake, Malmon, I'm telling you the truth. I'll do anything you want. Don't hurt her.”

“So it's the witch? Bring Berger in, and send for Commander Trake,” he ordered one of the men, and rose to walk to the tank. Staring at Annika, he spoke to Yadin. “Put a hole in him—nonlethal, of course.”

Annika beat on the glass as Yadin chose a knife. Her eyes pleaded.

“Is he telling me the truth? If you lie . . .” Malmon watched her face as Sawyer choked off a scream. “I'll have his thumbs removed next.”

She kept her eyes on Malmon's, on those dark glasses, pressed both hands to her heart as if swearing.

“That'll do.”

Malmon turned; Yadin slid the knife out from between Sawyer's ribs. And another man strode into the cave.

He stood tall, straight, with Viking blue eyes and close-cropped hair so blond it read nearly white.

He studied Annika. “So it's true.” His voice was brisk, lightly accented. “The world is full of mysteries. Will you fuck her?”

“No need to be crude, Franz.”

“Just curious. I would, just to see how it could be done.” He shifted, looked down at Sawyer. “Messy business. A bullet in the brain's more efficient.”

“I prefer my way.”

After a shrug for Yadin, Berger gave Malmon his attention. “The remaining targets just arrived back at their base.”

“Riggs, the seer. You have her description.”

“I do. The blonde. The quite fetching blonde.”

“You can put a bullet in her brain.” Malmon watched Annika's
reaction, pleased when she curled up to weep. “And the sorcerer—wounded only.”

“Do you have a preference where?”

“You're the expert. Commander,” Malmon continued as Trake came in. “Mr. Berger is about to do his work. Take a strike force, wait for Berger to complete his task, then move in, capture the survivors. I want Gwin and Killian alive. Damage this McCleary however you need, and see that he's well restrained.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And search their villa. I want whatever computers, notes, maps, all their papers, taken to my villa.”

Malmon dismissed them simply by turning his back and walking to Sawyer. “Get up.”

Gritting his teeth, Sawyer managed to get to his feet.

“What are the coordinates for the Fire Star's location?”

Sawyer gave him longitude, latitude. Malmon walked to a computer, keyed it in. “An island in the South Pacific? How ordinary.”

“It's uninhabited, and the star's hidden, shielded. He did a spell. I don't know how it works. I can take you, but I don't know if that breaks the spell. You don't have to kill Sasha. Listen, listen, she can be useful to you. Nerezza wants her gift. You can—”

Malmon hit him with a backhand that knocked Sawyer back ten feet. “I know what Nerezza wants. You're not fit to speak her name. Speak it again, and I will give the mermaid more pain than any mind can survive.”

“I'll do what you want.”

“How long will it take, to go to the star, to come back?”

“The traveling itself? Two minutes.”

“You'll have ninety seconds. You.” He gestured to one of the men. “You'll take him there, and back.”

“But—”

“Do you really think I'd allow you to take me? To attempt whatever plan you might have working in your fevered brain, with
me
? If you take more than ninety seconds, if you attempt to escape, to take the compass, she dies in agony.”

“Ninety seconds isn't—”

“It's what you have.” Malmon consulted his watch. “Yadin.”

Though something like disapproval crossed his face, Yadin sent the current into the tank.

“Again.”

“Stop! Goddamn it, I said I'd do what you want.”

“Now you know the price if you don't. Turn up the current for the tank, be prepared to switch it on. Draw your weapon, you moron, and I'd advise a sturdy headlock.”

The man stepped behind Sawyer, hooked a beefy arm around his scored throat, held the gun at Sawyer's ear.

“Excellent. Ninety seconds. Beginning now.” He put the compass in Sawyer's cuffed hands.

Sawyer kept his eyes on Annika, said her name. And vanished.

A
t the villa, Bran treated Riley's wound while the others gathered weapons.

“Has to be the cave, right? It's where Sasha warned Sawyer and Annika. I know he could have them at the villa, but—”

“We can't be sure. It's more difficult to transport two wounded and unconscious prisoners into the hills. You have to be still until I've done this.”

“It's a fucking scratch. We need to move.”

“It's more than a fucking scratch, and we need to know where to move.”

“I said we'll get them back.” Doyle walked in, guns strapped at
both hips, the sword on his back, a knife in his boot. “I've been a soldier more than a couple of lifetimes. I don't leave fellow soldiers or friends behind.”

“We're not getting them back fussing over a little cut.”

“If not for Bran, you'd need a dozen stitches, at least, on that little cut.” Sasha walked in with a crossbow, a quiver of bolts, and the gun she'd only fired at targets holstered at her hip.

“Okay, all right. Then I say it's time for that chain reaction.”

“I'm with the doc on this.”

When Bran said nothing to Riley or Doyle, Sasha sat down. “And if we're wrong, we'll have wasted the trap. I need to see. No one's said that, but everyone's thinking it. Do you think I can't
feel
it?”

“It'd help, sure, but, Sash, we all know you can't force it.”

“Why can't I?” she snapped back at Riley. “Why can't I pull it in when it's needed? At a time like this, when two of us are— Why don't you tell me what to do?” she demanded of Bran. “Why don't you tell me?”

“Because it's yours,
a ghrá
.” He took her shoulders, kissed her brow. “Because it's only you who can demand it.”

“Then I will, I do! Cast a circle, cast a spell. Help me.”

“With all I have, but there's no spell. It's your gift, your mind and heart. Only you can open it.”

“I need air. I need room. I need to
breathe
.” Desperate, she rushed outside, struggled to calm herself, to settle. When Bran followed, she pressed her fingers to her eyes.

He drew them away. “Trust yourself, as I do.”

“As we do,” Riley corrected, and glanced behind her at Doyle.

“Yeah. We do.”

“Help me.”

Bran brought the hand he held to his heart. “Feel me, open to me.”

“Love, trust, faith. Bran.”

“Open to yourself,
fáidh
. Let it come. You're so strong. Set the fear aside, for everyone. And just open.”

She felt his heart beat under her hand, steady. Steady. Closed her eyes and counted the beats. His. Hers. Theirs. Hers. Hers.

“Oh, they're hurt. The pain. It's horrible, and the fear is worse. She fears for him, tries to fight, but they hurt him. He fears for her, tries to fight. They hurt her. Trapped, she's trapped. Water surrounds her, but it's cruel. He enjoys hurting them. He knows how. And Malmon—he's not just a man. His eyes, his eyes, he hides them, but . . .”

“Where, Sasha? Where are Annika and Sawyer?”

“In the cave. Blood and death in the cave. Locked in a tank of water, hurt, losing heart. Weeping. Sawyer, so much blood. One chance, he feels one chance. I can't see it, not all. So many, and so much pain. Sawyer . . . Wait, wait. He's gone. He's gone.”

“Dead. No, no, no.”

She shook her head at Riley. “Gone. Somewhere else. I don't—”

As she spoke, a light, bright as noon, burst in the hills, and the thunder followed.

“Sniper's nest.” Doyle grabbed Riley's arm. “Inside, get inside.”

“Time for that chain reaction, Mr. Wizard.” Riley rushed inside, grabbed her weapons. “And time for us to move.”

“They're coming.” Filled with her power, Sasha picked up her bow. “Men, Malmon's men. They're coming here. They mean to take us.”

“They won't.” Bran lifted fisted hands, beat his fists together.

The hills above the villa bloomed with light.

O
ne chance, Sawyer thought, and prayed he'd timed it right. He might not live through it, but he had one chance to save Annika. He felt the gun against his head, the arm tight at his throat. And did something he'd never done.

He let go.

The arm dropped away, and there was nothing. Not even a sound.
He gripped the compass, brought Annika into his mind. He'd never tried a shift within a shift, but he'd already counted off sixty precious seconds.

He had to make it back to her. If he couldn't get her away, at least she wouldn't be alone.