I spat blood and tried to control my shivering. Lena knew how to swim, and she was tough enough to survive a gunshot or two, but those deck guns were a much higher caliber than anything she’d faced. I squinted up at the closest man. “My friend was on board.” I exaggerated each word, willing him to understand. “We have to find her. Please.”

Had Lena had time to grab Smudge’s cage? He’d survived falling into a river back home, but that water had been far calmer and warmer than the Atlantic.

The boat turned about.

“No!” I tried to sit up. “She’s still out there!”

A hand twisted into my hair and threw me back down. I rolled onto my side, trying not to vomit. The captive siren lay inches away. Blood dripped from her ears. The explosions could have easily burst her eardrums. Someone had fastened a thick strip of woven nylon around her neck, like a dog collar tugged so tight it dug into the skin. It had been ratcheted into place, and I saw no way to unlatch it.

I focused my attention on the siren’s magic. It was faint, but legible. Unlike Deb or Lena, sirens weren’t book-born creatures. They had evolved naturally, and that made it harder for me to parse their magic. Harder, but not impossible.

I blinked, trying to focus. Everyone on board was protected against the sirens’ song. I’d have to manipulate the power of that song directly, to fashion the longing and despair into a weapon and thrust it through each and every one of my captors before they realized what I was doing.

It was a flip of a coin whether my mind would snap first, or if one of them would put a bullet through me. It was also the only way I could possibly get back to search for Lena.

The boat jolted like a car hitting a pothole. One man aimed the spotlight into the water beside us, while another covered the same spot with his weapon.

A second jolt followed, and a wooden spike punched through the side of the hull to stab the gunner’s leg.

Lena. Thank God. I sagged backward in relief.

Bullets riddled the water. The motor sputtered and died. A man near the back grabbed what looked like an oversized smart phone and began tapping out a message, probably alerting the Kagan that they were under attack. I rolled along the floor and kicked the phone out of his hand, sending it overboard.

He kicked me in the ribs, but like the rest of the crew, he appeared to be more concerned with Lena’s assault. The wooden spike continued to grow. Branches twined around legs, feet, anything they could reach. They ignored me and the siren. When this was over, I’d have to ask how she could see or sense who to entangle.