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I pause. “Yes. And what kingdom are you from?”

I don’t expect her to answer me, so it’s surprising when she says, “Limonos, but it doesn’t exist anymore.”

Interesting. “What happened to it?”

She just stares at me for a moment and then raises her chin. “You deflected my question.”

“Just as you’re deflecting mine?”

“I asked you first. Do you believe in what you were telling those people? Do you believe in this God you say speaks through you? Does he speak through you? Do you hear him?”

Her questions give me much to ponder. I walk toward her, stopping a foot away. “I recite the words I have learned,” I admit. “I know what the Bible says, and I know what people expect to hear. God doesn’t speak through me. I don’t hear him. I don’t even think he exists half the time.”

“You question his existence, and yet you are a priest? Even I know that is preposterous.”

I squint at her in wonder. “How did you learn so much?”

“Why are you pretending to be God’s messenger?” she asks instead.

“Because I must,” I tell her.

“Why? Is it something you are forced to do in this world?”

“For some, yes,” I say carefully.

“For you?”

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. “For me as well. I don’t have to do this; I need to do this. It’s the structure of religion and God that keeps me on the path I need to be on. It keeps me from…”

Her eyes flash curiously. “From what?”

“I’ve told you before: it keeps me from becoming a monster, something worse than how I stand before you now. I know you think I’m cruel and immoral, but you really have no idea the lengths I have gone to make sure I hurt as few people in this world as possible.” I wait a beat. “I realize that’s something you may never understand.”

She frowns. “If you’re trying to guilt me, it won’t work. I don’t feel guilt. I kill men not only because they taste good but because they deserve it. I have seen what men to do creatures, to women, to Syrens. One less man is doing this world a favor.”

“Then you should realize I am worse than the worst men you’ve ever heard about or come across. I was turned into a beast by the Devil himself. If there’s anything you should be ridding the world of, it’s me.”

She grins at me with sharp teeth. “Then step a little closer.”

I stare at her for a moment, trying to find some sort of plan in all this chaos.

Then, I reach down for her tail, and I pluck out one of the dried scales.

She winces as I slip the scale into my pocket.

“What was that for?” she says, grinding her jaw.

“For the spell,” I tell her, and her eyes widen. “For my magic. You said you wanted legs, did you not?”

She nods warily.

“It might take some time—a night or two, a ritual, a new moon. I might need more from you. More scales, your hair, perhaps your blood. And I’ll need to figure out what you’ll give me in return. This is a bargain, not something done for your benefit.”

“You’re getting my blood in return,” she says.

“I would be getting that from you no matter what I did,” I inform her. “You benefit here more than I do. I will have to think of something that will make this worth my while, or perhaps you can think of something yourself. What could you offer me that I would accept?”

I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t take anything less than her soul.