Morganna and Fiona looked at each other, then at the men. "We can see that you need some time to process all of this information; we'll let you do that."

Before they could blink away, Jon put a gentle but restraining hand on Fiona's arm. "Wait, what if we need to see you; talk to you again? What if we have questions?"

Fiona smiled. "We're always watching you," she said. “We’ll know. And if it’s safe? We’ll talk to you.”

Richie paled. "Always watching?"

"Well," Fiona answered, "up to now, it was just me, so I could only watch one of you at a time, so technically not always, but now that Anna is helping me, we can be more vigilant."

Richie groaned.

"Don't worry child," Morganna said, "I have no interest in watching you perform your, uh, morning ablutions." She smiled. "Other things, however..." Richie groaned again and Morganna laughed at his expression.

The two fey linked arms and strode out into the sunlit afternoon. They stepped into the ring of flowers, and disappeared.

"What the hell do you make of all that?" Richie asked Jon.

"I don't know," Jon answered honestly. "I mean it all sounds like a good story, but you know me, I don't believe in this shit."

"Yeah, but you saw what Fiona did. I mean, she didn't even lay a hand on you, and she had you so you couldn't move."

Jon nodded. "I know. It was the strangest feeling." He smirked. "Remember back in the day, when we were so angry all the time, and Teek and D had to keep us from beating each other silly? That's sorta like what it felt like -- like Teek was pushing me up against the wall." He shook his head. "Damned disconcerting if you ask me. And you, asshole," he punched Richie's shoulder. "What was all that flirting you were doing with Morganna?"

"Aw, bro, you know me, I can't let an opportunity pass to flirt with a pretty girl."

"Man, she is anything but a girl." His tone wasn't complimentary.

Richie chuckled. "Yeah, I know," he said, "but she's still a knockout; Fiona, too."

Jon smiled wryly. "I know." He grabbed the coffee from the freezer to start a fresh pot of coffee, and nearly dropped the can on the floor, as something occurred to him. "Rich, they said something about powers. You and me having some sort of magical connection."

"Oh yeah, I had totally forgotten. Dude, though, that sounds totally gay. Don't say that in front of anyone."

"Fine, fine, but what do you suppose they meant?" Jon's mind was working furiously, trying to solve this particular riddle.

Richie just shrugged. "Can't say. I have no clue. Do you want to call them back and find out?"

"No," Jon said. "I want to find out more about their brother. I mean I go to church, I know about the devil and Armageddon and all of that... I just..."

"Want to know what you're getting into?"

"Yeah."

“Don’t you think it might be too late for that?” When Jon looked at him, Richie shrugged and continued. “I mean it seems like a done deal, right?”

“Right...”

The two men researched for hours in Jon's office, reading and printing and talking about hundreds of pages of information. Perched up on a high shelf, Morganna and Fiona were watching intently.

"Do you think I made a mistake in telling them so much?" Fiona worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I don't know, Sister," Morganna answered. "Richard seemed to take it all in stride at the time, but now he's just as nervous and worried as Jon. Maybe we should have made them forget the entire conversation. We still could, you know."

"Maybe..." Fiona answered, frowning; her thoughts clearly wandering.

Morganna looked over at her. She could tell her sister had something on her mind. "What's on your mind, Fiona?"

“I’m wondering if I haven’t made an error in judgment in having you help me.”

“What are you talking about?”

"Don’t think I didn’t notice what you and your new charge were doing. What were you thinking, making a wager like that? You can’t possibly have wanted to kiss him! Or did you?”

Morganna just laughed. “Oh come now, Sister, I knew you would not relent, and this saved me from having to steal something from him, should I need to cast a spell. That reminds me; you’ll need to get something personal of Jon’s for me.”

“You’re avoiding my question.”

Morganna sighed. “Sister, you and I will always be different in this respect. He has a pretty mouth and a beautiful face. His hands look gentle, and there was laughter in his eyes. I wouldn’t have minded kissing him.”

Fiona shook her head. “Even after everything you’ve been through. All the heartache and betrayal. You would STILL trust your heart to a male?”

“Not my heart,” Morganna said. “Not necessarily. You don’t understand.” Morganna stood on the shelf and paced back and forth, careful not to disturb anything. Below them, the two men were still reading and taking notes and talking quietly to each other. “Fiona, I am a romantic. I always believed, and still do believe, that there is a soul mate there for me. I feel sure that the Maker, in his infinite wisdom, does not want me to be alone for all eternity. How can I find my Other Half if I do not look? How can I find that which I do not try to seek?”

“But Anna, every time you think you’ve found your mate, something bad happens.”

Morganna shrugged. “So I made mistakes.”

Fiona wasn’t ready to let it go. “Your husband absolutely was a mistake. I still can’t believe our step-father promised you to Urien of Gore.”

“More like Urien the Bore,” Morganna snorted. “But he wasn’t my choice, wasn't my mistake. I knew that he wasn’t my soul mate, but how could I defy Pendragon? He would have surely killed mother. I had to do my duty.”

“And you bore him a son, and what did he do?”

“Sister, I know full well what he did. I still keep the scars lest I start to forget. Had I not been studying magic for some time at that convent before the betrothal, I would not have been able to keep it from being worse.”

“You should let Merlin smooth them.”

“No,” Morganna said. “They serve to remind me to be more careful, and not so confident in my magic that I act foolishly.”

“Then if you’re being more careful, trying not to act the fool, why act on some frivolous connection to the mortal?”

“I don’t quite know,” Morganna admitted. “There’s just something about him my soul is drawn to. It’s different than with the others. It’s almost like...”

“Like what you felt with HIM.”

“Ah yes, HIM,” Morganna agreed, smiling beatifically at the memory. “Accolon.”

“But you remember everything he did, yes? Not just the good.”

Morganna’s smile faltered. “Aye, Sister, not just the good.”

Morganna looked from her sister to the angry singer pressed against the wall. With a wicked little grin, she said thoughtfully, "You know, with just a snap of her fingers, she could make every hair fall out of your head."

Jon’s eyes widened, then he saw the little evil grin flirting with the corners of Fiona’s full lips. "You wouldn’t!"

Fiona gave a rich, deep chuckle, and Richie said, "She’s just trying to get you to give in, Kidd.”

“Oooh,” Morganna added, “or she could make you shorter!”

“Don’t listen to her!” Richie insisted. He turned to Morganna, smiling. “That wasn’t fair.”

Morganna just winked at Richie and turned her attention back to her sister. Jon’s glare turned even more icy, telling Richie he was close to giving in. "Fine, I won’t call you Fairy anymore." His chin was tilted at a mutinous angle.

Richie knew Jon better than anyone else, or so he thought. "That’s the closest thing to an apology you’re gonna get."

"You think I don’t know that?" Fiona asked. "I’ve known him longer than you. I was in the room when he made his borning cry. I understand him as much, if not better, than you."

"Then let me down," Jon demanded.

Fiona frowned at him, then quickly dropped her hands. So, instead of a nice slow decent, Jon crashed to the floor with a very loud thump. He jumped to his feet while Richie and Morganna’s laughter filled the room.

"That’s not my idea of letting me down," he glared at Fiona.

"Yeah, well," she shrugged negligently, "that wasn’t my idea of an apology."

Morganna crossed her arms under her breasts, making them plump into the deep vee of her dress. Richie’s eyes widened a fraction before he forced his shoulders to slump. “Guess this means no kiss? And I think I owe you a shiny present.”

Richie reached up to his left ear and removed the discreet gold hoop he wore there. He held it out to Morganna, who took it gently from his outstretched hand. The grazing of her fingertips on his palm sent little shocks up his arm. He watched as she examined the ring and put a finger to her own left ear. A small hole appeared, and she threaded the post through it, closing the clasp. She pushed her hair back from her ear.

“What do you think?” she asked, tilting her head at Richie.

He reached out and touched the small gold ring, caressing the shell of her ear in the process. “It looks better on you, darlin’, than it did me.” Reluctantly, Richie dropped his hand.

They both turned their attention to Jon and Fiona, who were still squared off against one other. The two combatants stood glaring at each other until Richie took a step forward. "Kidd, I thought you wanted an explanation. As best I can tell, we’re only halfway there."

"Oh, I know that one too," Morganna gave a happy squeal, then began to sing again in Jon’s deep voice, "Whoooa, we’re halfway there, whooooa, living on a prayer."

Fiona giggled at her sister’s antics. "That’s enough, Sister."

"But, I know the rest of it," Morganna pouted.

"I’m sure you do," Fiona laughed.

"Why exactly are you guarding us?" Jon demanded, ignoring Morganna’s trick.

"To protect you from our brother, until you are needed." Fiona looked at him like he was an idiot for not knowing that information.

"Needed for what?" both men asked at the same time.

"The final battle," Fiona answered, exasperated.

"What my sister is trying to say is, that if the final battle comes in your lifetime then you will be needed. Until then your protection is her first and only priority," Morganna clarified.

“Final battle?” Richie asked.

“Certainly you have read The Bible,” Morganna said, indicating the gold crucifix that shone against Richie’s tanned skin. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“The end of days,” Richie said softly, and sat down.

"Jesus. And what if something happens to you?" Jon asked, his gaze moving from his friend back to Fiona.

"A new guardian will be sent," she answered, "but I can only die if silver pierces my heart. So, chances are I will be there to hear you take your last gasping breath as well."

Morganna stepped forward. “She will not fail in her sworn duty to protect you,” she said fiercely to Jon. “And I will not fail in my duty to protect her.”

Fiona whirled around. “Anna?”

“Why do you think I’ve been working so closely with Merlin? He knows these two are THE two. The others were just decoys. He also knows that Lucie will soon figure that out, if he hasn’t already.”

“Lucie?” Jon asked.

“That’s our nickname for our brother.” Morganna smiled wickedly. “He doesn’t much like that name.”

Jon thought about what Morganna had said to Richie about the final battle. Dread blossomed out from the pit of his stomach, threatening to make him sick. “What’s your brother’s real name?” Jon asked Fiona.

Morganna and Fiona looked at each other, then at Jon, but didn’t say anything. They saw the realization in Jon’s face.

“No,” Jon said, eyes wide. The sisters simply nodded solemnly.

“What?” Richie asked.

Jon looked at him. “Their brother is the devil.”

“The WHAT-IL? No, nuh-uh. That is just too much.” He looked at Morganna, who locked eyes with him. In that moment of eye contact, Richie saw they were telling the truth. “Shit,” Richie said.

"You really aren’t supposed to know about me," Fiona began. "But if you insist, then you should probably join your friend and take a seat."

"Because neither I nor my sister want to have to pick you up off the floor," Morganna said with a grin at Jon.

"I’ll gladly take a seat if that’s what it takes to get an explanation," Jon announced, as if it was his idea in the first place, then joined Richie at the breakfast bar.

Fiona looked at her sister imploringly, but Morganna just shook her head and waved her hand in the two men’s direction. Fiona shrugged. "I guess it’s all on me, then." She began to pace the confines of the kitchen as she gave them the basic facts about the Fey, how they came to be, their purpose, and their opportunity for redemption. Then she explained her and Morganna’s brother, and about her five charges.

"When Jimi and Elvis died, then John was shot, I began to worry about the two of you," she said, nodding in their direction.

"Whoa, whoa, WHOA!" Jon yelled, holding up one hand and jumping off his bar stool. "Elvis? Presley?"

Fiona nodded.

Richie’s eyes were wide. "Jimi, as in Hendrix?"

Again, Fiona nodded.

"I don’t believe you," Jon announced to the room.

"John? Lennon?" Richie asked, not caring that no one was paying attention to him any more. "No fucking way."

"Fine, don’t believe me," Fiona said, shrugging and glaring at Jon. “We don’t have to explain anything to you; we just have to keep you safe.” She turned to her sister. "I guess we can go now."

Morganna knew exactly what her sister was doing and nodded in response. She made a big show of raising her hands above her head, although that wasn’t needed for them to blink out. "As you wish, sister dear."

"Oh, no you don’t!" Jon ordered, honestly thinking his demand would be enough to keep them there.

"Asshole, do you really think you can order these two around like you do me and the guys?" Richie let out a low chuckle. "I'll bet they won’t listen any more than we do."

"Kiss my ass, Fuckwad," Jon ordered, bestowing an icy glare on Richie.

Quickly, Richie leaned over and kissed Jon’s cheek, then promptly burst into laughter.

Jon rubbed at his cheek angrily. "Damn it, Rich! Quit that shit!"

The women giggled, bringing Jon’s gaze back to them. "Are you going to listen? Or do we just go on our merry way?"

It was Morganna who had asked that question. Jon was sure that she at least would gladly leave him clueless. Grudgingly, Jon muttered, "I’ll listen."

"What was that?" Morganna asked arrogantly, cupping her hand to her ear. "I don’t think my sister quite heard you."

"I heard him just fine, Morganna." Fiona looked at Jon and waited for his curt nod. Then, she began again. "I was desperate to keep my last two charges safe. So, I arranged for them to both be in the same little bar. One playing on stage, the other in the audience. I thought that if the two of them met and became friends, that it would be easier for me to keep an eye on the two of them."

Jon looked at Richie, then back at Fiona. "Are you saying that you ‘arranged’ our friendship?"

"No," she shook her head, "I arranged for the two of you to meet. The friendship was entirely on you. But, I did know that because of your powers, the two of you would be magically drawn to each other. You would sense a kindred spirit in the other."

"And thus the ‘Brotherhood’ was born," Richie said laughing. Then he sobered. Powers? What the hell?

"About the Brotherhood," Fiona said, a conspiratorial little grin on her face, "all those secrets that you’ll ‘take to the grave’, um yeah. I know all of those."

"You do?" Jon asked, his voice only slightly indicating fear.

"Yeah, who in the hell do you think pulled your asses out of the fire every single time?"

"All of them? Seriously?" Jon’s voice had risen slightly in concern.

"Sure. You want proof?" she didn’t wait for confirmation before she continued, "Okay. Let’s see. There was the golf cart incident in Florida, where you..."

Jon quickly interrupted her, glancing worriedly at Morganna. "I’ll take your word for it." Then he grumbled under his breath, "Besides, the golf cart was Teek's idea."

"Yeah, but you were driving," she nodded toward Jon, a grin splitting her face. "So, you don’t want me to tell about the twins in Toledo?"

It was Richie that jumped in that time. "Absolutely not!" His eyes went quickly to Morganna. "We definitely remember the Toledo Twins. We don’t need you to remind us."

"Was that the time where the girls were under age?" Morganna questioned with a grin.

"Yeah, that would be the one," Fiona laughed.

"You told her?" Jon cried, throwing his hands up in the air.

"Of course I did, she’s my sister. We share secrets, that’s what we do."

Jon pointed one long finger at Morganna. "For the record, those two teenie-boppers left our dressing room as innocent as they were when they entered it."

Nodding in agreement, Richie added, "Although, I doubt either of them was as innocent as their daddy, the sheriff, liked to think they were."

"Probably not," Jon agreed.

"They weren’t," Fiona confirmed.

“Oh wait,” Morganna said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Was he the naked-in-Jamaica one?” She tilted her head to the side. “Hard to tell without all that hair.” She approached Jon and pulled the neck of his t-shirt down. “Yep, far less hair.”

“Hey!” Jon said, pulling away from Morganna.

“Yes, that was him,” Fiona said, smiling.

“Naughty, naughty,” Morganna purred.

"But that’s beside the point,” Fiona said, raising her voice over her sister’s. “Just who in the world do you think got you outta these messes?"

The two men answered in unison. "Doc."

Fiona scoffed. "He had nothing to do with it, actually he was the one that got you into all those scrapes. And, I’ve never been happier than I was when I finally got him out of your lives."

Richie grabbed Jon’s shoulder to keep him from blurting out something that he might regret. "Really? Why is that?"

The fairy looked at the guitarist. "Because my brother sent him."

"Your brother?" Jon asked. "The one you called the Betrayer?"

"Exactly. He hoped to lead you to him, to turn you evil like him."

"Seriously? Doc?" Jon questioned.

"Somehow, I don’t find that hard to believe," Richie interjected.

Jon cast a look at Richie that clearly said ‘you wouldn’t’, then looked back at Fiona. "So, you’re saying that you’re our guardian fairy?"

Her nose wrinkled in distaste at the term. "I am a guardian, your guardian. But, I will tell you only one more time, we prefer the term ‘Fey’."

Knowing what was coming, Richie rolled his eyes as Jon stood up. "Oh yeah? What are ya gonna do to me," Jon paused before finishing the question, "Fairy?"

Morganna gasped at his effrontery. She knew her sister’s temper well. "He is your charge." She barely had time to remind her sister of that before Fiona acted.

She raised her hands, palms out. Suddenly, Jon was flung backward against the wall. Slowly, she moved her hands upward, and he slid up the wall until his feet were at least a foot off the floor.

With his chin on the floor, Richie sat staring at first his friend then the small woman across the room. Eventually, his mind kicked back into gear and he jumped up from the bar stool, prepared to defend his friend even if he didn’t know how.

That’s when Morganna took a step forward. "She won’t hurt him," her voice was just a little condescending. "You have my word on that."

Now, Richie understood how hard it had been for her to trust him earlier, now that it was his brother in danger and not her sister.

“Take it back,” Fiona demanded as Jon’s face went red with anger.

“No,” he said. “Put me down.”

“Not until you take it back,” Fiona stubbornly insisted.

“You may as well do it, child,” Morganna said to Jon. “She’s very obstinate, and used to getting her own way.”

Richie burst into laughter. “Woman, Jon is exactly the same way. No way he gives in.”

“Really...” Morganna said, narrowing her eyes. “Care to make a wager on that?”

“Absolutely,” Richie said. He thought for a minute, then his eyes sparkled mischievously. “If Fiona caves, you have to give me a kiss. I’ve never kissed an almost-sorceress before.”

Morganna laughed. “As you wish. When Jon relents, and he will, you must give me a gift. Something of yours that’s shiny and sparkly. I adore pretty things.” It would also help her if she had to cast a spell to save him, though he didn’t have to know that.

Richie nodded. “I can do that.” They settled in to watch the battle of wills going on across the room. Neither combatant was wiling to give an inch.

“You know,” Morganna called over to Jon. “She is much stronger than you are, you should just give up now.”

“No, bro,” Richie said, “don’t give in. You can take her. She’s just a little bit of a woman.”

Morganna looked at Richie; at the smirk on his face. Helping her sister may not be all that bad. In fact, this could be quite fun.

In miniature form, the two sisters sat on a tree limb watching the antics of the two men. This was the best disguise for this situation as they tried to stay hidden from their charges. They both covered their mouths trying to stop the giggles at the ridiculous scene playing out before them.

"I can’t take any more," Morganna whispered, her laughter bubbling over, as Jon released the frog.

Fiona grabbed her arm. "Don’t do it. Then we’ll have both of them to deal with."

The two men started discussing a cat. "By the Maker’s toes," Morganna giggled. "This is too much."

When her sister disappeared, Fiona just threw her hands up in the air. She sat watching as her sister appeared in her normal form behind her charges. Fiona was rethinking the decision to bring Morganna in on this, when she heard Jon yell, "Where’s the other one?"

Morganna gave a delicate shrug. "What ‘other one’?"

Fiona knew that her sister would not give her away not even if tortured with more of their ridiculous attempts to summon them.

"Fiona, show yourself," Jon demanded to the area in general. "I know you’re there." He turned round and round in a circle, his eyes quickly scanning the area.

The fairy gave up and blinked in beside her sister. "Do you have to yell?"

Wide eyed, Richie stood gaping at the two women who had just appeared out of nowhere. "Fuck me," he managed to gasp in awe. He’d really thought Jon had lost it, but now he had to admit that if his friend was over the rainbow, then so was he. Even in his amazement, Richie couldn't help but notice they were both beautiful women, but there was just something in the violet eyes of the first arrival that had him wanting to seek more. There was a twinkle there that told him she had a great sense of humor. In fact, he could tell she’d been laughing at him and his friend.

Jon grabbed Fiona’s arm and began to drag her across the yard towards the house. She pulled against his strength, causing his hand to slide down her arm. He gripped her harder at the wrist and continued to stomp up the hill toward the house.

"Unhand me this instant, you big oaf," she commanded, her voice shrill.

He didn’t bother to answer her; he just kept walking. Morganna raised her hands, prepared to use magic to protect her sister if necessary. Richie’s soft voice stopped her.

"He won’t hurt her. You have my word on that."

"I’ve only just met you. How do I know if your word is any good? And how can you be so sure that he won’t?"

"I know him. He would never hurt a woman, not even one that’s not quite human." He chose not to answer the question about whether or not his word was any good. Morganna searched his beautiful milk-chocolate colored eyes and saw no guile or falsehood in them. She let the ignored question pass.

Morganna laughed softly. "Not quite human? Oh child, that is a total understatement. We are nowhere near human."

"Of course not," Richie agreed, laughter in his voice. "Shall we?" He made a little half bow and motioned toward the house with a sweeping arm, inviting her to go first. Morganna tossed her magnificent mane of hair over her shoulder with an oft-practiced flip, and regally made her way to the patio.

With the fairy yelling and snarling curses all the way, Jon pulled Fiona to the patio door. Once there, he flung the door opened and pushed her into the door way. "Now, you can’t get away."

"Excuse me?"

"I’ve done my research. It said that fairies don’t like doors because they can be trapped in the entryway." Jon smirked.

Morganna's eyes met her sister's over his shoulder. “He thinks we can get trapped in the in-betweens?" Then her laughter filled the air. "Oh, you are such a sad little man," she said; her voice dripping with pity.

"Excuse me?" Jon demanded without turning around.

"She means that you shouldn't believe everything you read," Fiona explained. A beloved smell teased her nostrils. "Oh. Is that coffee I smell? I believe it is!" She turned and hurried into the house, following the scent to the kitchen.

Morganna’s ears perked up at the word ‘coffee’, and she pushed past Jon to follow her sister. He had to grab onto the door jamb to keep from falling over.

"What the fuck?" Richie asked, shocked.

"Oh it’s nothing. In my research, I found that fairies like the smell of coffee, but don’t worry about them drinking it all up from you, Rich. The website said they like the smell but not the taste," Jon answered as they followed the two women to the kitchen.

The two men stopped in the kitchen doorway. "So much for your research," Richie announced upon seeing the women already drinking from the cups that the two men had left on the counter.

"Make yourselves at home," Jon told the two women sarcastically.

"Where exactly did you find all these so called facts about us?" Fiona asked.

"The Internet."

"Oh, well then it must be true." Fiona threw back her head; her laughter seemed to bounce off the walls.

"What is the ‘Internet’?" Morganna asked her sister.

"You’ve been in Avalon a long time. I’ll explain later, sister dear."

Jon crossed his arms causing his shirt to tighten across the bulging muscles of his upper arms. His frown was way too bad to call simply 'disapproving'. "Yeah, later. I got first dibs on an explanation."

"I'm wondering if we really wanna hear it, bro." Calmly, Richie walked over and pulled out a bar stool and took a seat. "I'm not sure I wanna know why a couple of fairies are guardin’ your garden." He laughed at his wit.

"Fey," Fiona corrected automatically, rolling her eyes at Richie.

"What?" Richie asked, only a little confused, and that scared him.

"We prefer to be called Fey," Morganna answered.

Jon snarled. “Well I prefer not to have uninvited guests lurking around my yard.” He looked at Fiona. “You can’t always get what you want fairy.”

“Ooh!” Morganna said clapping her hands, and ignoring the furrow that formed between her sister’s eyebrows. “I know that one!” She cleared her throat and smiled.

Fiona clapped a hand over her eyes. She knew what was coming next. “A-nna,” she whined.

“But if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need,” she crooned.

Richie and Jon sat with their mouths agape. Mick Jagger’s voice just came out of the woman’s mouth.

“Oh no you didn’t just do that,” Richie said.

Fiona sighed. “Don’t get her started.”

Morganna laughed, and said, in Richie’s voice, “Oh yes I did, darlin’.”

Jon burst out laughing at the stunned expression on Richie’s face. “That’s a great trick,” he said.

The dark-haired fairy looked at him. “It’s hard for me to say the things I wanna say sometimes,” she sang in Jon’s sexy voice. “So I appropriate others words,” she finished in her own.

“Damn,” Jon said.

“I see you have been spending time with Merlin,” Fiona said to her sister.

“I have,” Morganna said proudly. “Soon I shall be a full sorceress.” She looked at Richie who had a completely gobsmacked look on his face. “I’m only an apprentice now.”

“Sorceress?” Richie squeaked. “No wait,” he said, holding up a hand. “I don’t want to know.”

Jon circled the conversation back to where it started. “I do want to know,” he said. “About all of this. From both of you, but Fiona first. Start talking.” He cast a wary eye at Morganna. “In your OWN voices, thank you very much.”

“Jon!” Richie yelled after his friend. Catching up to him in four strides, he clamped a rough hand down on his best friend’s shoulder.

“Rich, you have to see it,” was all he said, shaking off his friend.

In the office, Jon turned on his computer and opened a folder called “Weird Shit”. Richie grinned at Jon’s filing system. Jon was pretty much a call-it-like-he-sees-it kind of guy. He clicked on a file in there, and an image of the circle of flowers they just left filled the screen. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about the picture.

“I don’t get it,” Richie said.

“Look, man,” Jon said, exasperatedly pointing at the screen. “Right here. Open your fucking eyes.”

Richie bent at the waist and peered intently at the screen. He supposed he did see something.

“It sorta looks like a foot.” Richie straightened. “You dragged my ass over here to look at a footprint in the grass? Bro, you are losing it.”

“Stick with me on this,” Jon said. “Last night, there were two women in my yard. They were standing right there in that damned circle of flowers.” Jon went on to tell Richie about the women appearing and disappearing in front of his eyes. He told Richie about the woman who changed herself into a little fairy.

“Fairy?” Richie’s eyes went wide. “Like Tinkerbell and that shit?”

Jon laughed. “Yeah, like that, right down to the little green loincloth bikini.” Jon got up and started to pace, pushing a hand through his thick hair. “Damn, man, I’ve never been so fucking confused in my entire life – and you lived through the 80’s with me. I woke up this morning not knowing whether I dreamed that shit up or not. Then I found the footprint. So not.”

Richie sat hard on the chair. “Holy shit. Are you sure you didn't just have some a girl over here and way too much to drink?”

Jon shot a scathing look at his friend. "That's your department, not mine. No, there were no invited guests here last night."

"So this shit is for real?" Richie didn't even bat an eye at Jon's rejoinder. He knew his best friend was right about Richie's dating habits.

“Yeah, this shit is for real. And that’s not even all of it.” Warily, Richie cocked an eyebrow, so Jon continued. “One of them, Fiona, said --- ”

“Wait a minute. Christ, they have NAMES?” Richie stood. “Man, I want to believe you. Really, I do, but...”

“Rich, of course they have names. What, you think they’re gonna be called ‘Fairy Number 832’ or something?” Jon shook his head.

“Man, I have no damned iDEA what in the hell, uh they would be called.” Richie couldn’t bring himself to say the word again.

Jon flapped a hand at his friend. “All we have to do is catch them, or summon them. That’s what I was looking up. Then you’ll see.”

“You’re making this shit up, man.”

“You know me, man, I don’t make shit up unless it’s part of some grand joke or something.” Jon stood directly in front of Richie, and bent over so they were practically nose-to-nose. “Look at my face, really look, and tell me if you think I’m fucking joking.”

Richie peered into cloudy blue eyes that were usually clear as day. This clearly was bothering him, real or not. Richie sighed and pushed at Jon. “Get out of my face, man, your breath stinks.” He stood and walked to the windows, flipping open his phone as he went.

“What are you doing?” Jon asked.

“If we’re spending the day summoning fairies,” Richie rolled his eyes, “I’m canceling on Elena tonight. You’re gonna need me.” He smiled wryly. “She can make footprints on my grass another night.”

After coffee, for Richie insisted on coffee, the two men went out into the yard. “What do we do?” Richie asked.

“One site I saw said that fairies sometimes disguise themselves as toads, butterflies, rabbits, whatever takes their fancy. We look for frogs and stuff.”

“Fucking insane,” Richie muttered, but joined Jon in looking in the grass, along the flowerbeds, and at the treeline for toads.

After an hour of fruitless searching, Jon called out, “Got one!”

Richie joined Jon and they looked at the small brown toad. It eyeballed them like it wasn’t sure they were for real. “Well,” Richie said, “Now what?”

Jon shrugged and shook the toad a little. “Fiona, if that is you, show yourself.”

Richie couldn’t hide the snicker. “Man, I’m sorry, but that’s fucked up right there.”

“Shut up,” Jon said. He peered at the toad’s eyes again. “No, I don’t see anything in there but frog.” Disgusted, he bent to let the creature jump gratefully from his hand. Both men watched as it hopped away.

“Well, that was fun,” Richie said. “Now what? And if you have me chasing damned butterflies around your damned yard, I will shoot you.”

The look on Jon’s face told him that was exactly what he was going to suggest. “Uh, well, we could try a summoning poem.”

Richie thought for a moment. “Do we make one up? ‘As I stand here in the grass, c’mon fairies, show your ass’?” He laughed at his own wit.

Jon chuckled. “Nice, Rich. No. Not quite.” He took a piece of paper out of his pocket. The men peered in to read:

Richie looked at Jon. “You have GOT to be kidding me. That shit ain't even real words! Dude, besides you don’t have a cat!”

“Shit. Well, we gotta know someone who has one.” Jon started pacing. “Dammit, man, you HAVE to have seen a cat a time or two in your life, where do they sit?”

“How the fuck do I know? On their ass?”

“ENOUGH!” a laughing woman’s voice called out from behind them.

Jon and Richie whirled around to face a raven-haired beauty with flashing violet eyes. “You,” Jon said.

“Aye, me,” Morganna answered smiling widely.


Authors' Note: The summoning poem is not ours. It can be found in "Lady Cottington's Pressed Fairy Book" by Terry Jones.

When Jon woke up the next morning, he stretched and smiled. He was so relaxed and well-rested, like he hadn't woken at all during the night, which was......

"SHIT!"

He leaped out of bed and looked for his sweat pants only to see he had them on already.

"What the hell?"

Jon tentatively went to the kitchen door and looked out into the yard. Everything was as it should be. Stepping out onto the cool grass, still damp with dew, he crossed the yard to the circle of flowers that figured prominently in his dream. There, in the center of the circle was a single footprint: a decidedly feminine, shoeless footprint. He looked up at the sky. The sun was rising over the house, and soon, the dew would dry, and all proof of his dream -- well, he supposed, it wasn't really a dream now, was it? -- would be erased.

"Fuck me," Jon said, backing toward the house. He snagged his cell phone from the counter and called his best friend. He needed a little perspective.

"What?" a deep, rumbly voice answered.

"Wake up, bro," Jon said. "I need you to come see something." He went up to his office and rummaged through the closet until he found his camera. After checking to make sure it had batteries and a memory card, he started back down the stairs.

Richie rolled over onto his side and squinted through one eye at the clock. "Dammit, Jon, it isn't even nine yet. Why do you hate me?" He flopped back onto his back and scratched lazily at his bare chest.

"Because you're ugly," Jon answered. "Now get your old ass up and over here. I mean it." Jon snapped the phone shut then went back outside and took shots of the footprint.

Richie hung up the phone still wondering what was up with his friend. Jon could be obsessive about things, not giving up until he'd accomplished whatever goal he'd set for himself. He sighed unhappily – or goals he set for others. In other words, Richie knew that if he didn't do as Jon had asked, the stubborn asshole would come get him and drag him out of bed and across town by the hair if he had to.

When he arrived at Jon's house, Richie entered the code and drove through the gate. The size of the estate no longer surprised him. Jon had bought the mansion and moved here after the divorce from Dot two years ago. Richie had asked him then why he didn't just stay in the apartment in the city. Jon had answered that the apartment was fine for when he had business in the city, but that he needed a place to 'get away from it all'. Jon had also explained that he wanted the kids to have lots of room to run and play, just like they did at home with Dot.

Richie parked his car in the circular driveway. Copper ran out to meet him wagging his tail eagerly and Richie bent to scratch his ears. Jon hadn't wanted to take the dog away from the kids, but they, along with Dot, had convinced him to take the dog with him when he'd moved out. "So that you won't be all alone, Dad," Jesse had explained. Jon hadn't been able to tell them no. Now, Mazzie, Jon's housekeeper, took care of the dog whenever Jon was away on business or on tour.

Finding the door unlocked, Richie didn't even bother to knock. This was his brother's house after all. "Where are you, asshole?" he bellowed, slamming the door loudly behind him.

"In here, fuckwad." The answer came from the direction of Jon's office.

Richie shrugged and headed for the room in question, muttering under his breath, "Might as well get this over with."

When he reached the room, Richie leaned one shoulder against the door frame and crossed his legs at the ankles. "What was so damned important that you had to drag me outta bed at the ass-crack of dawn?"

Jon had expected that question. "8:23 is hardly 'the ass-crack of dawn'."

Richie frowned at his friend. Jon sat at his desk, staring at his computer monitor. He was leaning forward slightly in his chair and hadn't even take his eyes of the screen when he'd spoken. "What are you doing?"

"Research."

Richie looked up at the ceiling, silently requesting patience from heaven. "Research on what?"

"How to summon a fairy." Jon said. Richie watched him type something else. "Huh," Jon said. "Toads?"

The guitarist didn't laugh, didn't question the absurdity of Jon’s remarks at all – but only because he was sure that Jon was either joking or that it had something to do with the kids or a song. A song. That was it! That's why Jon had demanded his presence. "Oh, I get it. Damn, asshole, you could've just said that you wanted to work. You're just damned lucky that I'm staying at Mom's this week."

"Work?" Jon shook his head. "No, this's got nothing to do with work. Google is a magnificent thing, Rich."

Richie was used to how Jon's mind worked, how he skipped from one topic to another without slowing down, only changing gears. He looked around the room. Nope. No empty liquor bottles. Jon didn't appear to be drunk. "And, why would you want to summon a fairy?" Richie's voice was soft and patiently gentle, as if talking to a frightened child. Or someone who was clinically insane.

Jon stood up behind his desk. "This is a show kind of thing not tell kind of thing. Follow me."

Jon led Richie toward the back of the house and out through the sliding patio door, all the way to the circle of flowers. "Damn it. It's gone."

"What's gone?"

As if Richie hadn't said a word, Jon continued, "Good thing I took a picture for proof." He turned and went back toward the house.

Okay. Now, Richie was getting a little worried. "Proof?" he said to Jon’s retreating back.

Richie cast a worried look over his shoulder at the circle of flowers. Whatever was going on in Jon's head, Richie wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he damn well had to find out. Shrugging his shoulders, he started following after Jon, while his mind whirled.

The way Jon's brain was always on, it was only a matter of time before it got overloaded and finally went on strike. Maybe it had finally happened. He and the other guys had talked about it often enough. They'd joked and even worried about what they'd do when it happened.

When Jon finally snapped.

Jon was mesmerized by the swirling leaf green eyes and the sexiness of the soft husky voice in his ear. Her breath stirred the hair at his ear, and he shook his head at the tickle. He started to do what she told him to do, turning to head back to the house and go back to bed. But, suddenly he stopped. What in the hell was he doing?

He spun back around to face the women standing in his garden. "What the fuck is going on here? Why was I just about to go back to bed, when that's the last thing I want to do?"

Fiona looked at her sister silently asking for help, but Morganna only shrugged, clearly telling her younger sister that this was her problem to handle as she saw fit. Fiona turned back to Jon. "That is going to require an elaborate explanation."

Jon took in the woman's appearance; he still couldn't get over the fact that she seemed familiar to him somehow. She was tiny, only about five foot tall, with hair as black as night falling in gentle curls down to her small waist. She actually looked like she'd just stepped of the stage, wearing black leather pants and a black blouse with loose flowing sleeves that would allow for freedom of movement. Some would call it a peasant's blouse, but they always reminded him of a pirate's shirt. Her blouse was tucked into the pants, so that the leather was able to show off strong thighs; the pants were tucked into thigh high black leather boots with low heels. The porcelain of her skin shone in the moonlight. "Who are you?"

"My name is Fiona."

"Maybe what he should be asking is...what are you?" Morganna's voice tinkled with laughter.

His gaze came to rest on Morganna. At first glance, Jon thought they could be twins. This other woman was the same height and had a similar complexion and hair style and coloring that identified them as sisters. But on closer inspection, he noticed this other woman's eyes were violet instead of green, and faint lines crinkled at the corners. Her nose turned upwards just a little more than Fiona's, and she had a very light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. Her clothing was more old-fashioned than Fiona's, too. The long, sweeping gown she wore was the color of the harvest moon. It had long sleeves, a deep décolletage that showed off more freckles, and intricate embroidery decorating the hem. A black cloak was clasped at her throat with an ornate brooch. He could see her feet poking out from under the dress. Bare feet.

They were both gorgeous women, and normally he wouldn't be complaining about two beautiful women wanting to hang out in his garden, but something wasn't right about these two. He'd seen Fiona disappear then reappear, then he'd seen this other woman just appear out of nowhere.

"What the fuck is going on here?" he demanded again.

"Maybe we should go inside," Fiona suggested with a placating smile.

"Maybe I should call the police." There wasn't even a hint of a smile in his voice.

Morganna laughed, throwing her head back, and exposing the long, smooth column of her throat. Finally she sobered, realizing that both the other occupants of the garden were staring at her with derision. She held up her hand, as if to stave off their comments. "I'm not going to apologize for finding that extremely funny. Come on, child. You saw us blinking in. Do you really think we'll wait around for your enforcers to get here? And do you honestly think that you could make us wait?" She laughed again. "Your powers don't extend that far."

Jon blinked at the other woman. Did she just call him child? She was younger than him. "What do you mean by my 'powers'?"

Morganna saw no reason not to enlighten him. "Don't concern yourself with that now. Your powers don't extend to The Fey anyway. They have no effect on us."

The Fey? Where had he heard that phrase before? "What 'powers'?" Before he could get an answer, something clicked in his head, and he held up a hand. "Wait, wait, WAIT a damned minute. 'Fey'. You two. Fairies? As in steal-babies-and-substitute-changelings? As in tiny little creatures with pointed ears and wings?" He laughed derisively. "You two are obviously stoned, and maybe you're right, maybe I am dreaming. I'm going to dream you gone." He gave a little wave. "Bye now."

Fiona rolled her eyes and leaned forward to pinch Jon's forearm. Hard.

"Ow! What the fuck was that for?"

"You are not dreaming," Fiona answered. "And yes, we are fairies, though, the baby-stealing thing isn't us. That's more our brother's style."

Morganna smirked. "And as for tiny creatures with the wings and ears? Total myth," she said, "though all human myth does have some basis in fact. So, if that myth will make you feel better..."

Jon gasped as the tops of Morganna's ears lengthened, sticking up from her luxurious hair, and becoming pointy. Her clothes transformed to ragged loin-cloths, barely keeping her decent. Enormous, pale peach iridescent wings sprouted from her back. She shrunk down to the size of a bluebird and flew to sit on Fiona's shoulder. "There," she said in a voice that sounded like she had inhaled helium. "Better?"

"Oh, you showoff," Fiona said, exasperated. She brushed her sister off her shoulder, and Morganna retaliated by pulling her hair. Jon fought the smile that threatened to creep across his features. This was surreal and incredibly disturbing, but yet wildly entertaining. In a blink of an eye, Morganna was back to normal, standing next to her sister, and dressed once more in her long gown.

"Incredible," Jon murmured. "Now, what do you mean by my 'powers'?"

Fiona thought a moment before shaking her head. "Really, this is a conversation best suited for another time." She raised her hands and Jon felt a slight gentle pressure on his chest, urging him to step back. He held firm. Her voice dropped to a near whisper as she continued. "For when you are ready to hear the truth about yourself." She slowly walked – he would swear she floated – toward him and he was compelled to take matching steps backwards. "For when you are ready to accept the responsibility that goes along with your gifts," she breathed.

Jon suddenly found himself in his bedroom, not remembering making the decision to go there. He had to fight to keep his eyes open as he sat back on his bed and lay prone. "But –" he protested.

"Shhh," Fiona said, passing a hand across his face; almost but not quite touching him. "Sleep now."

When Jon's even breathing filled the room, Fiona went back outside to her sister. "We need a plan," Fiona said. "How the hell are we going to convince him he's a siren?"

Carefully, so as not to wake her troublesome charge, Fiona quietly slipped from the room. She could’ve used her powers to instantly transport herself to the fairy ring in his yard, but she tried to avoid using her powers when she was this close to one of her charges. Just like all the Fey, her magic left a trace; a trail that her brother, the Betrayer could follow. A trail that would lead him straight to her charge, if he was looking.

Fiona sighed. It really was past time to summon Morganna.

It sounded a lot easier than it was. The other fairy was in Avalon, where only the four Guardians had access, unless you were traveling with one of the four. That’s how Morganna had gotten there; she traveled with their mother, the Lady Igraine through the fairy ring that the mortals knew as Stonehenge. Fiona couldn't just call her sister, because if given a choice, Morganna wouldn’t come, and without a Guardian taking her there, Fee couldn't just pop into Avalon.

She stepped into the center of the ring of flowers that she’d made when her charge moved into the house. It was a simple magical procedure that would make the flowers grow in a circle. Humans didn’t realize the magic contained there, the places they could go through those portals, if they only had the power. Humans planted what they called fairy rings all the time, but a true fairy ring was a doorway to the secret places that He had made, and only the Fey could make a real one.

Fiona closed her eyes and pictured Tír na nÓg, the garden, in her head, along with the exact spot in the garden she needed to be. Time passed more slowly in Tír na nÓg than in the human realm. Days there were like years here, so she needed to pop in and right back out. Fiona needed a pear from the Tree of Life to summon Morganna; a piece of fruit that would be unable to exist outside the magical safety of the fairy ring.

She opened her eyes, and looked up at the tree. Its beauty always took her breath away. She glanced to her left where a few feet away the Tree of Knowledge stood with its beautiful red apples tempting her to have just one. Those apples were another fruit that would be unable to exist outside the fairy ring. She thought about how those apples were the very reason that His chosen ones had been tossed from the garden, thus giving the Fey their chance at redemption. Quickly, her mind back on her task, she picked a pear and popped back to the human realm.

Jon wasn't sure what had woken him. He just knew that he was awake. He lay in bed for several long minutes, staring at the ceiling. "Fuck it," he said, and got up. He pulled on sweat pants and wandered downstairs to the kitchen. He thought he saw something out the window, and went outside for a closer look. His heart seized in his chest when he saw the woman standing in his flower bed. She was young and lovely, and he had the nagging feeling he had seen her before. He watched in amazement as she disappeared from view then re-appeared, and he shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from it. Surely, he was still dreaming.

From inside the circle, she took a bite of the pear then raised her hands above her head and called out in a loud clear voice.

By binding power of a favor owed,
I call upon the ancient code.
To stand before me in this sacred place,
this ring demands you show thy face.
I summon thee with charm and voice.
Don’t you wish you had a choice?

Quickly, she tossed the pear outside the ring and watched as it burst into flames, then abruptly died out; even its ashes gone.

*****

The pearl ring on Morganna's right index finger started to glow. A soft, white light emanated from the cool stone. "Shit," Morganna said under her breath. Through the centuries, she had made many jaunts to the human realm, and much to her mother's dismay, she picked up some of the colorful language used there. She smiled weakly at her mother, at least she wasn't as bad as Fee.

Morganna excused herself from the game she was about to win, and went outside to sit on her favorite bench. "Don't turn amber...please, don't turn amber," she prayed, looking at her ring. "Shit," she said again when the ring appeared to fill with a honey-brown smoke.

"Dammit, Fee," Morganna said, even as she was crossing the garden to the circle of flowers she and her younger sister had planted when they were very young. She passed a hand over herself, from head to knee, and a traveling cloak appeared; fastened at her throat with a golden clasp in the shape of a Celtic cross.

Sighing, she stood in the center of the ring of flowers and raised her arms. "My sister calls me," she began, and the stars swam before her eyes. She cleared her throat, and chanted the spell that would take her to her sister's side.

My Sister calls me, hence I go
So I command the wind to blow
And carry me where, I don't know
So I may pay the debt I owe

A soft wind blew, causing Morganna's waist-length dark curls to swirl around her shoulders. A blink of an eye later, and she was standing in the yard of a gorgeous, huge house, standing in a flower bed.

"Dammit, Fee," Morganna said again. "I was just about to take Mother's queen."

"Nice to see you too, Morganna," Fiona answered, using her sister's full name, knowing full well it bugged her.

"You know I like being called 'Anna'," Morganna sighed. She gathered her sister in her arms for a hug. "It is good to see you again, my sister. What is the payment you have decided upon?"

"I need your help," Fiona said. "Your payment is to assist me with my solemn task. You see, I have two whom I must guard and protect, and I find that it is getting quite difficult to do so by myself."

Morganna rolled her eyes. Fiona had told her all about her two humans. She knew all about their popularity and the publicity surrounding them. Several earth years ago, some of the scraps that Fee had to get them out of had made her cringe.

"I'm not a guardian," Morganna reminded her sister. "Well, not here anyway."

"You know full well that you owe me, Anna. That means you have to make the payment I specify." A pout marred Fiona's otherwise beautiful face. "Remember, I did save you from being recycled."

"I remember all too well," Morganna answered. Many centuries ago, when Morganna was accused of inflicting King Arthur’s mortal wounds, Fiona wove a clever spell that allowed her sister to escape back to Merlin’s caves unseen. The spell also tampered with the memories of the Grand Council, though Morganna didn’t know that part.

"Fine, I'll help, but the debt is paid after this."

"Of course," Fiona said. She held out her hand palm down, her own pearl ring catching the moonlight. Morganna put her hand over Fee's, palm up, so their rings were touching. They recited together: "A debt once owed 'tween sisters is paid in full” and a brilliant green light passed between their rings.

"Holy shit," Jon said, the sight before him finally getting the better of him.

Fiona and Morganna whirled around to look at the source of the voice. Morganna's eyes narrowed. "I don't want him," she said, pointing at Jon. "I'll take the tall one. And now you owe me," she finished smugly.

Fiona just looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"You let your charge see your magic!" Morganna said.

Fiona spun to face Jon. "Damn it, you were supposed to be asleep!"

Morganna's tinkling laughter filled the garden. "Obviously he is not, little sister. I wonder what the Elders would think of this news."

"You wouldn't," Fiona cried, her eyes wide on her older sister.

"Of course not," Morganna assured her, raising one shoulder in a graceful shrug, "but, now I believe a favor is owed in exchange for my silence."

"What the fuck is going on here?" Jon demanded, stomping several steps toward them.

Fiona gave Morganna a curt nod to let her know she acknowledged her debt, then stepped over the circle of flowers and walked slowly and lithely toward her charge. Her green eyes locked on his blue ones, bringing him to a halt. When she reached his side, he stood straight and tall, his muscles tensed. She stepped up and waved her hand across his face slowly, her fingers splayed. In his ear, with a sexy, husky voice, she whispered, "Go back to sleep, Jon. You are only dreaming."

Fiona stood in the corner, hidden by shadows, watching him sleep. He wasn’t exactly her favorite charge, but since she only had him and one other left, and he caused the most trouble, she spent a lot of time watching over him.

She hated his arrogance. He actually thought what he could do was a skill, a talent! He was oblivious to the fact that he could hold an audience of thousands in the palm of his hand because it was a power he’d been given because of right of birth, by the Maker. He had that power over mere mortals; if used against the Betrayer and his minions it would have an entirely different effect, their qualities that had made them evil worked against them. If used against The Fey, it would have no effect at all. That’s why she was immune to his charms.

Well, she wasn’t entirely immune to his charms. Even Fiona could admit he was a nice looking specimen. His high cheekbones, strong stubborn jaw, and piercing blue eyes were very nice indeed. However, she’d liked his hair better when it had been blonde. She liked the way the stage lights had made it shine like a halo around his head. It made her think of Home, even though she’d never been there. But, she could admit, too, that the darker brown suited him somehow, and looked quite charming when he first woke up in the morning and it was sticking up in all directions.

Sometimes, she longed to break the truth to him, just to see his face. His disappointment to find out that he didn’t actually do anything but open his mouth, would probably make up for all the shit she’d put up with out of him all these years. Because, even though he and his friend wrote the words they sang, it was how they sang them that caused women to want to throw their underwear on the stage, and caused some men to stand and stare in wonder.

Over two hundred years ago, she’d been given a list of five family lines that she was to watch over until the chosen ones from each line could be born. Her job had been to ensure the birth of said chosen ones. At the time, she hadn’t known that she would be charged with babysitting those chosen ones as well.

She’d been doing a terrific job. She’d managed to see all five chosen ones born, then been assigned to their protection, which involved keeping them hidden from her older brother, the Betrayer. But, then she’d lost Jimi and Elvis to their own self destructive tendencies, and John to a gunman’s bullet. She’d been horrified to learn that the gunman in question had been controlled by her brother. That’s when she’d hatched the plan.

The plan that if the Elders ever learned about would surely get her powers stripped and her essence ‘recycled’. But, she’d been unwilling to lose even one more charge. So, she’d used a little magic, and put the two of them in the same little bar so that they could meet, become friends and in effect make her job easier. If they were always together, she could watch them both at the same time. Right? Brilliant!

At least as long as the Elders didn’t find out about it.

Because, not only had she made it easier for her to keep an eye on them, but by putting them together, she’d made it easier for her brother to attack them. And, he would if given the proper incentive.

That’s why she was ever vigilant. Especially now, since this one couldn’t seem to quit calling attention to himself. He did way too many good acts! He couldn’t continue to do these good deeds, tipping the scales in the Good’s favor, not if he expected to escape her brother’s notice. Talk about proper incentive for her brother. He couldn’t be a selfish person, no. His friend wasn’t much better, but at least he didn’t call so much attention to himself.

He stirred slightly in his sleep, and she tensed. Fiona waved a hand down the length of her body making herself appear transparent and took a step farther back into the shadow of the tall highboy dresser she was standing beside. She stood tensed for flight, just in case he came fully awake. After several long seconds, when he didn't stir any more, she finally relaxed.

She shouldn’t have to put up with his shit! She was a princess for crying out loud. Her own mother was one of the chosen four Guardians at Avalon. She watched over Arthur himself while he slept, awaiting England’s need of him.

Fiona knew that she needed help. She could sense the growing evil around this man. Her brother, the Betrayer, was coming for him. She could feel it. She had yet to feel the warning tingle in her veins as if even her blood was electric that would tell her that her brother or one of his minions was near one of her charges, but that only meant her brother was still planning his move.

That’s why she was calling in a favor. Morganna owed her, damn it. And it was time to pay up.

We were among the favored. There was no good, no evil, only us and Him. Some sat by the throne all day, gushing love and praise upon Him. Some frolicked on the earth, enjoying the lushness that He had created there, oblivious to what was going on at Home.

And some plotted a takeover.

The chief betrayer was His most favored, the most beautiful of us all. When the day of attack came, the earth bound among us continued in their joyous celebration of all things Him, while a battle raged at Home.

When the smoke cleared, the most beautiful and his followers were cast out, sent to a most terrible place. In their anger, hatred and jealousy they became truly evil. The ones that had remained by the Father's side were able to stay Home, but He shut the gates.

We were left on earth, unable to go Home.

No longer among the favored, but not among the hated, we were offered a chance at redemption. We were given a most important job. When His favored 'children' were made and then cast from the garden, we learned of our calling. We became guardians. Guardians of heroes. Guardians of all things good. Our job is to stand against all things evil, until death. Never wavering, protecting our charges. Immortal in age and health, only dying if our hearts are pierced with silver.

Only in death against evil, may we be allowed back Home. That is our most cherished wish, to go Home.

Over the years, we have mated, had families, and continued to enjoy all that the earth had to offer. We have access to the garden, and all the other secret places that He made.

His special 'children' were endowed with powers that mere mortals did not possess. In order to protect them, we have far more abilities than these 'children'. And we need these powers. For though the Hated were cast away, they, too, long for Home. They long to return Home and finish the battle they had started. We must be stronger, smarter than the Hated.

And ever vigilant.

For the Hated also know of His special 'children'. And they long to cause Him pain by causing them pain.

Ever vigilant. Ever strong. This is our destiny. This is our purpose.

Over the years we have had many names. The one we prefer is The Fey.

But, you can call us fairies, if you like.

~ An Elder