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?"