“Five minutes or so?” I put a hand on Lena’s back and eased around her to take the wheel. “Lena, do you have the earplugs?”

I heard her unzipping a bag. “I picked up some noise-canceling headphones to go with them.”

I shoved the foam earplugs into a pocket and hung the headphones around my neck. Having survived the weakened song of a scarred siren last year, I had no interest in suffering the full power of an entire group.

“Lights at eleven o’clock,” said Deb.

Her vision was better than mine. I replaced my glasses and squinted into the darkness until I spotted the lights of the approaching ships. “How many?”

“Three.”

I guided us closer, keeping the engines low and hoping nobody would hear us over the waves and the noise of their own vessels. By the time we were near enough to make out the individual ships, the frontmost cutter had come to a stop and was lowering equipment into the water. Uniformed men stood watch at the rails, assault rifles in hand.

“Any sign of Vanguard?” I kept my voice to a whisper, despite the fact that it would be impossible for anyone to overhear.

“Nothing yet,” said Lena.

An explosion sent a shudder through our boat. I’d missed the source of the blast, but the ocean bubbled and burst like a geyser a short distance from the lead cutter. They hadn’t even tried to communicate with the sirens, or to survey the ocean floor. They’d simply begun bombing.

“Shit!” I’d hoped to have more time to observe and plan. I snatched several books and carefully removed the magic keeping them invisible, like peeling fruit. Nobody was likely to notice a few books floating above the water. I flipped to the page I’d bookmarked during my flight, peered over the top of my glasses, and created a personal body shield that should stop any mundane bullet.

Next up was Control Point, a military fantasy with several potentially nasty new forms of magic. The power I wanted was called aeromancy. I absorbed the book’s magic and seized control of the wind, turning it against the lead cutter. The waves grew taller and battered the ships from the side. Slowly, they began to veer away.

Three more explosions followed, the bright flashes muffled beneath the water. A body floated to the surface, her long, matted hair streaming like seaweed. I couldn’t tell whether the siren was dead or simply stunned.

My grandfather had told us stories about fishing with dynamite, tossing lit sticks into the water and then rowing out to scoop up the concussed fish. The Coast Guard was using the same approach on a larger scale.

“Earplugs,” Lena shouted.

I’d almost forgotten. I shoved the foam plugs into place, then cupped the headphones over my ears. The world fell silent.