“Eh.” Rina went back to her game.

I snarled a rude thing under my breath when Cassius jammed both feet into the back of my seat. “We better get there soon. I’m hungry. How much longer? I’m tired of being back here.”

“Everyone has to take a turn in the back row,” Andrew said, leaning one arm on the open window of the van as he drove. “Watch a movie or something. And stop fussing with Charity. You know she won’t be able to distract the crowds if she’s tired.”

“Thank you,” I told his reflection, and was going to lie back down on the seat when Cassius kicked it again.

“I’m tired of being back here! You stop and let me switch.”

I knew I shouldn’t have done what I did next, I knew it well, and yet, I did it all the same. I opened my mouth, and sang ten bars of an old English country tune, directing a push toward Cassius that would leave him in a subdued state.

Almost immediately, he topped over onto his side and lay motionless on the seat.

I turned back to find Andrew’s gaze trying to catch mine. “Charity ... ,” he said warningly.

“Yes, I know, it’s not polite to push bandmates. But I’m going to be dead tired tonight as is, and if you expect me to push a bunch of dragons, I simply have to get some sleep.”

“Sirens shouldn’t need sleep. You magic people with your song, is all. Why need sleep?” Rina asked.

“Because,” I said, lying down as best I could on the bench seat, and yawning. “Our voice is just part of the element that bewitches people. It’s the mental push that really packs a wallop, and dragons are notoriously hard to influence that way. Right, no wakies until we’re in Hungary, please.”

I went through my relaxation routine again and, this time, managed to actually drift off into sleep, not the normal sleep of everyday mortals, but the deep, energy-gathering sleep of a siren who was about to attempt a group brainwash of great a big herd of dragons.

“I’d like to know whose bright idea this was,” I grumbled some five hours later when I stood next to Andrew, hooking up a microphone.

He nodded toward the massive house that sat smack-dab in an estate of what had to be at least forty acres. We were on the south side of the house, in an area that we’d been informed was once a bowling green and tennis court, but which now was serving as a stage. “How can you doubt that we’ll come out of this rich as Croesus?”

“The dragon who owns that house might be rich, but you haven’t been paying attention to your Tolkien if you think dragons don’t guard their treasures against burglars,” I pointed out.

He grinned at me in that cocky way he had. I toyed once again with the idea of getting to know him better, since there was something attractive about his fresh-faced Canadian self, but I knew in my heart it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t what I was looking for in a man.

“And I think you’re underestimating just how potent you can be.”

“We’ve never tried this against dragons,” I warned, pulling in the microphone cord. Andrew started arranging the sound board to his satisfaction. “They are notoriously hard to magic.”

“But not immune, and just think of the haul we’ll make here.” He inclined his head toward the house again. “Even if it was just the owner, we’d make out like kings, but with forty or so dragons just waiting to have their pockets picked ... it fair boggles the brain.”

“Just be aware that I make no promises about how bespelled they’ll be.” I set the mic at my preferred height. “Take it easy until we know they’re not aware of what’s going on.”

“We will, but you remember that you have to keep them under for at least ten minutes. Fifteen would be better.”

I shook my head. “Six songs is too much. I might be able to do four in a row, but five is beyond me. It takes too much energy. You’ve got eight to ten minutes, so use them wisely.”

Rina stomped over to us, hauling part of her drum kit, and groused in her thick Russian accent. “Is too far from van! You should have driven here.”

“And ruin this lovely lawn?” I rubbed the tip of my sandal against the velvety green lushness. “That would be a crime against nature.”

“This better be worth it,” Rina said darkly, giving me a look that I had no problem interpreting as a threat. “You put them under fast so we can take gold and leave.”

“Gold?” I asked, shaking my head again. “You guys are nuts if you think we’re walking out of here with gold. Do you know how dragons guard that stuff? Not to mention the fact that it’s like an aphrodisiac to them, so they’d hardly leave it lying around. Let’s just stick to the routine—I sing, Cassius picks pockets, and you two ransack the house for easily lifted valuables. Then we get the hell out of Dodge before everyone comes out of the happy sleepies I put on them, and discovers what happened.”

“Pfft,” Rina said dismissively, and began assembling her drum kit.

I rubbed my arms, and asked, “What’s our name this time?”

Andrew consulted a piece of paper. “The Unequaled Moles.”

I made a face. “Sounds unpleasant, but I suppose it doesn’t matter since it will change after tonight’s party.”

“Speak of the devil,” Andrew said, tsking at a long black electrical cord that had come uncoupled. “Here comes the lady running the whole thing.”

I turned to where a woman with mousy brown hair trotted toward us, a large black dog on her heels. “Hi! I’m Aisling Grey. Are you the Uneven Moles?”

“Unrequited Moles, yes,” I said, shaking the hand she offered.

“Unequaled Moles,” Andrew said under his breath.

“Sorry, little joke. It’s actually Unequaled. I’m Vicky, and this is ...” I blanked for a moment on the name that Andrew had picked for this job. Part of the problem with special gigs was the fact that we used different names each time. “Er ... Ernest,” I finally got out. “The lady on the drums is Katya.”

“Hiya. Name’s Jim,” the dog said, stepping forward and doing a quick gender check on Andrew. We both stared at it, and for a moment, I wondered if I was hallucinating. I’d seen many sorts of beings during the time our band had traveled around various Otherworld venues, but never had I seen a talking dog. “It’s really Effrijim, but I prefer—”