He stood up in the waves, hands covering his ears, and began shouting as he walked toward me. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, so I stopped singing. No one had ever actually made it onto the island before, and I was curious to see what he had to say. Would he be furious? Insatiable? Frenzied? I licked my lips in anticipation.

“Please!” He shouted. “Stop!”

I smiled. He was under my spell, just like all the others. I opened my mouth to sing again, but he cut me off.

“You’re so bad at singing!”

No gob has ever been more smacked then my own was in that moment. His words froze the notes in my throat, causing me to literally gag in response. “Huhck,” I choked out, astonishing myself.

He came to a stop in front of me and leaned forward, hands pressed on his knees while he caught his breath. “Oh god,” he panted. “It’s like nails on a chalkboard. Just stop. Please.”

Mouth agape, I stared at him. This mortal morsel had the audacity to not only invade my home but to also criticize my siren song? I.think.not.

“Mortal,” I said, using my polyphonic voice to put the fear of jeebus in him. “Take care in what you say, for these words may be your last.”

He placed his hands on his hips and arched his back. “Ugh god—I don’t care.” He flapped his hand at me, like I was moth he was shooing away. “Just don’t sing.” Then he tilted his chin down and looked me in the eye. “You fucking totalled my boat you know.”

Does the mouse scold the cat when it’s been caught? Does the rabbit look the fox in the eye and say “Oi! You fucked up my nest!” No! It cowers and gets eaten! And that’s exactly what was going to happen here.

I furrowed my brow and squinted at this brazen bit of man flesh. “I usually try and make this quick, because I’m not a sadist,” I explained, forgoing any further formal language since this twat had seen fit to dispense with the proper order of things. “But given your lack of respect, maybe not this time.” I opened my mouth and screamed—a piercing roar that would strip the flesh from any living creature.

But it had no effect on him.

“Demeter was right,” he said, wiggling a finger in his ear. “You’re a nasty piece of work.”

My blood froze. Demeter?

“Maybe you’re the one who should learn some manners.” He held his hand out and a golden bow came flying up from the wreckage of his ship and into his hand.

“No,” I hissed, backing away. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“Well, now you do.” He held out his other hand, which soon became a fistful of golden arrows. “And I really didn’t like your singing.”

“Apollo—no! I can repair your ship! I can change my voice!”

He notched an arrow. “I think,” he paused, looking at me. “Not.” And he let the arrow fly.