“Wha—First Dragon!” The kin who opened the door was one of the green wyvern’s personal guards. He had flaming red hair that was mussed as if he’d been roused from his bed, which, the First Dragon mused to himself as he entered the home, was likely what had happened. “You do us honor to grace the home of the green wyvern, of course, but ... but is there something you need? Drake is asleep, as are all the wyverns and guests.”

The First Dragon eyed him. “What name have you been given?”

“Pál, First Dragon,” the guard said, bowing deeply. “It is my honor to be in service to Drake. And Aisling, of course.”

“Of course.” The First Dragon felt pleased with himself. Here he was, gripped in a sense of outrage and panic, and he made time to connect with one of his children. “Are you mated?”

An odd look passed over his face. “I ... I have ... she’s not a dragon ...”

“Ah. A mortal?”

Pal nodded.

“Thus are wyverns born,” the First Dragon said, and, after a moment, patted the dragon’s shoulder in a manner that implied that not all dragons were lucky enough to find a mate of the same species, but that he, the First Dragon, expressed admiration for the way that Pal bore up under that disadvantage. “The siren Charity has been stolen.”

“She what?” Pal’s voice rose on the last word.

“She was asleep, then she was gone. She would not have left of her own accord. Thus, someone must have stolen her away. Most likely the thieves who held her captive.”

Pal blinked a couple of times, then pulled out what the First Dragon—who tried to stay current wherever possible—knew was a mobile phone. “My apologies for waking you, Drake, but the First Dragon is here. No, she’s gone. Evidently really gone. The First Dragon believes she’s been kidnapped by her band.” He listened for a moment, then put the phone back in his pocket. “Drake will be down in a minute.”

Almost immediately there was the sound of footsteps, and Drake clattered down the stairs, buttoning a shirt as he did so. He made an abrupt bow when he reached the bottom of the stairs, and asked, “When was she taken? Did you see the band members? How did they escape the mortal police?”

“I do not know. I was feeding my belly,” the First Dragon answered. “Charity was upstairs sleeping when I left her, and when I returned with a roll for when she woke, I discovered she had been taken.”

“When you left—” Abruptly Drake’s teeth closed on what he had been about to say. He ran a hand through his hair, then swore softly under his breath when Aisling hurried down the stairs, tying the belt of a dressing gown.

“What happened to Not-Vicky? Is she OK?” Aisling asked, stopping next to Drake. Behind them, the demon dog thundered down the stairs.

“Her name is Charity,” the First Dragon told Aisling. “I do not know her status, but I have grave doubts that she went willingly.”

“Why?” Aisling asked, brushing back her hair from her face.

Drake donned a martyred appearance. “The First Dragon was ... er ... with the siren before he went to eat the food you sent over.”

“Yeah? So?” Aisling looked confused.

Jim sniggered and nudged Aisling’s leg. “Told you he had the hots for her. Guess it pays to be a demigod, huh?”

Aisling’s eyes widened. “You mean that you ... and she ... wow! That was even faster than I thought it would go, and I didn’t even get a chance to give her an embroidery kit. I can’t wait to tell the others. They’ll be as delighted as I am.”

Drake’s look of martyrdom increased, but he pulled out a mobile phone and quickly made a call. “It’s neither here nor there, nor any of our business. Bartholomew? Drake Vireo. I understand that Gabriel called you to take into custody the siren we found. It appears she’s been kidnapped by her bandmates, who have somehow escaped the custody of the mortal police, and we’d like you to track—what? I see. Yes, quite fortuitous.”

Drake’s green eyes turned to the First Dragon, who suddenly found himself impatient. That in itself was annoying, since he did not, as a rule, feel such emotions, but now he had the distinct desire to snatch the mobile phone from Drake’s hand and demand to know where Charity was.

“What’s going on?” Aisling asked, trying to listen in to the phone. “Is that Savian? Tell him to stop by. Does he have Maura with him?”

Drake covered the phone with his hand, and said with a slight bow to the First Dragon, “It would appear that a thief taker that we called now has the siren. He found her hitchhiking into town, and recognized her from the pictures Gabriel texted.”

“You called Savian after we told you not to?” Aisling looked furious.

Jim the demon whistled, and shook its head. “Dude. You know better than to cross one wyvern’s mate, and you’ve got three of them under the same roof. Ain’t nobody getting any nookie tonight. Well, except maybe Big Daddy.”

Anger fired within the First Dragon, another rare emotion that he would prefer not experiencing. “Who is this thief taker?” he demanded to know.

“His name is Savian Bartholomew, and yes, Aisling, I know you and the other mates didn’t want us to call him, but we cannot tolerate having someone so dangerous here. She has to be turned over to the Committee for protective custody.”

“You’d think after living with her for so long that he’d have a clue, but it sure doesn’t seem like it, huh?” Jim asked the First Dragon.

Fire blossomed at Drake’s feet, and crawled up his legs. He gave his mate a long-suffering look. “Aisling, you are making a spectacle in front of the First Dragon. Control the fire.”

“It’s not of my doing,” she snapped.

Drake looked aghast at the First Dragon.

He narrowed his eyes on the green wyvern. “I told you that Charity would be in my custody. No other was needed.”

“Someone’s up shit creek,” Jim said sotto voce.

The green wyvern looked stricken, and stammered out, “We didn’t think it right to impose such a burden on you.”

“That is seriously annoying!” Aisling said, spinning on her heel and flipping her hair over her shoulder in the time-honored fashion of annoyed women before marching up the stairs. “I am so going to tattle on you to May and Ysolde.”