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.