The revelation of Dr. Mason's true identity sent the Grants into a tailspin. Lovedae stood on the cusp of the clearing as if turned to stone. But the Duo approached the dejected men after the brunt of their weeping subsided. Victor moved away to wipe his reddened eyes, and Rosetta placed a small hand on the doctor's shoulder.

He looked up at the little girl with troubled eyes.

"Do you... remember our super secret bedtime mantra?" Her little voice was shaky.

The doctor took the small hand and squeezed it. "A sleepy poppet is Daddy's moppet." The beginnings of a smile crept onto his unhappy face.

Her lips wobbled. "It is you!" The child threw herself in Dr. Mason's arms. "No wonder you felt so familiar!"

"Vic wouldn't lie." A nervous Jason stared at the doctor. "Dad, you're... alive?"

He gave Jason a quivering smile and opened his arms. The boy gulped and then ran to him.

Victor felt a lightening in his heart at the reunion—until he looked at his mother, her face devoid of emotion. He crossed to her, enfolding her in his arms. Lovedae leaned against him, trembling.

"Is it really Craig? Not some trick of Birgit's?"

"It's Papa."

"But... why?" she sobbed.

"What else could I do? Craig Grant had died. You'd gone on with your lives—and thrived!" The doctor approached his wife, a child clinging to each arm. "Lyle Mason lived in a rural village in Tanzania, researching the babu, the healers of the regions. There, he suffered a massive heart attack. The babus cared for him, but the basis of their healing is attached to the supernatural. So, when I awoke in this body, they knew I was not Lyle Mason."

Lovedae's tremors increased, and Victor lowered her to the soft grass. He sat next to his mother, keeping a comforting arm around her. After a brief pause, Dr. Mason and the children followed suit. All eyes remained on the doctor.

"It's a bitter story, my life." He took a deep breath. "I was born in Ireland sometime in the 1600s. Although a simple shepherd and farmer, my mind yearned for stories and legends of faraway lands. I'd sit in the fields tending the sheep while creating stories. One day, an orphan appeared on our lands seeking work. Her name was Roisin, an Irish name meaning 'little rose.' Ah, she enchanted me with her narratives of far-flung places and people, and I reciprocated with my fantasies. She taught me to read and write, and my world grew under her tutelage. Eventually, we married, settling on the farm with our two sons. It was a happy life, filled with love and storytelling."

Lovedae flinched, and Victor's arm tightened around her.

"Roisin's insecurities had me swearing daily that I'd never leave her. I thought it affection, but I was grossly mistaken. One day as I rode home from the market, my horse shied, throwing me from the saddle. Roisin appeared as I lay dying. I felt blessed that my wife was there, sharing my last earthly moments. Through my pain, I heard her speak to someone of my promise. She whispered, 'Forever, my love.' After that, darkness."

Lovedae sat ramrod straight, her eyes glued on the doctor.

"Suddenly, I sensed the essence of my oldest boy, Noah, twenty-two, in the dark with me. He screamed with my dying pains as he faded away. I reached for him, but he was gone." The doctor held out a hand, then dropped it. "When I woke, I was... weakened, disoriented, unsure of who or what I was. Roisin tended to me, a now feverish Noah, easing me back to health as her son—and Noah's murderer, the first of many atrocities."

"Horrible!" cried Rosetta.

The doctor gave his daughter a sad smile. "I've lived countless lives, moppet, the unwilling assassin of my own sons. I slid into their lives when mine ended with feelings of discontentment, knowing things were off beam. I knew something was wrong, and the knowledge increased as I aged. But with some, it took more time, such as my tenure as Craig Grant, who was very young when he was 'replaced.' But the journals I've written have been my memories, my documentation of the ongoing devilment."

"Couldn't you make her stop?" asked Jason.

"Reasoning, begging, hiding, migrating—nothing worked. Roisin said it must be this way until she found a permanent solution."

"Do you still love her?" asked Lovedae. The question startled Victor. She might seem bereft of emotion, but he noted her clenched hands and jaw.

"Does the inmate love his jailer? No, I refuse." Dr. Mason sighed. "This time, the feeling of wrongness manifested, it centered around my great-grandmother, Birgit. The unusually worded journals I'd read for years suddenly made sense."

"Papa, why the DNA test?" asked Victor.

"You were so much like my sons before the change, and like Birgit, you came from nowhere—there had to be a connection. Were you a sign, the answer to my prayers? Victor, 'the conqueror,' so similar to my original name, Buach, which means, 'victor or conqueror.' Do you see?" Dr. Mason leaned forward. "Various parameters were exactly as they'd been for centuries, but this time, others were playing out differently. For the first time, I had hope."

"You should have told us, warned us!" cried Lovedae, her voice almost hysterical. "We deserved that much."

"Lovedae, I lived but not in Jason—" Dr. Mason shook his head. "Being thrown out of the direct lineage skewed my memories, but the wrongness had more clarity. I needed my writings to investigate the alterations. And I selfishly wanted to be with my family again, even temporarily."

"How come you didn't turn into me?" asked a fearful Jason.

"I believe Victor protected you. Unfortunately, Lyle Mason, a distant relation within the bloodline, died moments before I did. Had he survived the heart attack, it would have ended this hellish madness." The doctor's head drooped as if weary. "This can't go on. It needs to end."

"How Papa?" asked Victor, afraid of the answer.

He met his son's eyes. "The babus agree with me—Roisin and Buach must die."

Victor remembered not only when the professor died but how. He'd never told Lovedae about sharing the professor's death throes before running out of the school and into the void. The peaceful-looking death was anything but that! He'd felt everything but from a distance.

The thought of it happening again frightened Victor. "You can't! I died with you the last time! It... I felt... the suffering was hideous, Papa!"

Lovedae and Dr. Mason turned to him with similar expressions of horror. She grabbed Victor's arms, steadying him. "Victor, you never said a word!"

Dr. Mason strode to the pair, tearing Victor from his mother as he yanked him up. "Victor, you just described the exchange process, two experiencing the death of one. You didn't die from it!" He gripped the boy's shoulders with shaky hands. "It wasn't Jason the spell aimed for. It was you. I was meant to replace you."

The silence was deafening, broken when Victor gazed at his frightened brother and let out a sigh of relief. "Then Jason's safe. Thank goodness."

Kristy and Medi sat under the elm tree in the huge backyard, feasting on bowls of ice cream. The conversation never stalled as mother and daughter chatted about anything that struck their fancy. Kristy laughed until her sides ached as Medi treated her to various antics committed by the fae, namely Gigi.

"So, when Mistress Fawn saw the handsome 'man' she'd cast her eye on morphed into Gigi, she was pissed!" Medi licked a wad of ice cream off a finger. "She told Gigi that's not what she meant about them getting closer."

Kristy roared with laughter.

Medi narrowed her sapphire gaze at Kristy. "Mistress Fawn reminds me of your stepmother, always barking about something, fake southern accent and all."

Kristy wiped a tear from her eye. "Tarje is pure evil."

"How'd someone with breasts come to power in the jinn realm? The social system is a patriarch. How can men hold primary power, morality, and leadership authority when a woman runs the joint?" asked Medi as she licked her bowl clean.

"For five years, she's been in power. When her reign began, women had hope, the first time that a female had taken control. Mistress Fawn knew our sufferings because she was one of us. But the status quo continued. She didn't care about anything but herself."

Medi snorted. "That seems criminal to the reforms women's movement fight to achieve."

"We have no women's movement. The first wives control their men's lesser wives, concubines, and servants. Who'd want to give up their power hierarchy if they're the top dog?" Kristy grimaced and stood, extending a hand to her mother. "Enough about that hateful realm. Let's go inside. Wanna see some pics of my boyfriend?" Saying the word boyfriend aloud thrilled the genie.

"Showing off?" asked Medi with a sly look on her face. Kristy had the grace to blush.

Medi stood and slipped her arms around Kristy in an affectionate hug. "Can't believe my daughter snagged the delicious-looking One Magi, and she's still a virgin!"

Kristy tittered with embarrassment. The concept of a mother was new, but Medi displaying genuine affection felt natural. The feeling took Kristy to a place of happiness she hadn't felt in years.

"Oh gosh, mother...." The parental word slipped out, surprising and delighting them both. Arm in arm, they headed toward the back door—then stopped.

A sudden deadening swept across the surrounding area, erasing the normal daytime sounds. No birds chirped nor flitted from tree to tree. Cars roaring down the street with engines rumbling and radios blasting were absent. The neighbor's music, children playing, and occasional dog barking was gone, leaving the vicinity quieter than a graveyard.

A terrified Kristy tried to transport them to the house, but the spell failed, blocked by an internal force. Tarje's geas jammed her attempts, and she now understood.

Her reprieve was over.

But Kristy didn't panic. "Medi, transport to the house. Residues of Victor's protections remain there. Hurry!"

"I'm NOT deserting ya again!" Medi grabbed Kristy's hand, hurrying her along. "A witch dampening spell is blocking us. We can't call for help. Trouble's a-brewin'."

Several feet from safety, Cataran appeared before them, startling the nervous genie. His tanned skin gleamed in the sunlight as his entourage arrived and fanned out behind him, ten total. Minister Roe also appeared, gazing around as if surveying his handiwork before disappearing.

"Krysania, your father accepted my contract. I knew he would." A smug Cataran stood with arms akimbo. "Per our custom of binding, cut a lock of your hair, and lay it at my feet."

Kristy stepped back, speechless.

"I see now—that mooncalf of a stepmother set a geas on ya. A forced marriage with that hobbledehoy?" Medi glanced at her daughter's pale face and whispered, "I'll clear ya a path to the house."

Kristy summoned her staff, deciding she'd rather go down fighting—but nothing happened. Panic set in as she realized the depths of Tarje's geas. She couldn't fight; she couldn't help! "I can't—"

"The geas prohibits any resistance on yar part. Me using the Allure on this many horny lickspittles ain't advisable. Get to the house." Medi turned to Cataran, taking his attention away from Kristy. "Dude, I don't consent to my fae daughter hooking up with a cockalorum like ya."

"Fae trash." Cataran gazed at Medi with distaste. "No longer will my bride be known as a half-fae. I declare it removed from our lineage. Leave, little vermin, if you wish to live. Never speak to Krysania again." He motioned to the defiant genie. "Due to time constraints, we'll forgo the ritual. Our ceremony must take place as soon as you are properly clothed."

Kristy covered her mouth with shaking hands. She'd woken from the happiest of dreams to discover the reality of a nightmare.

"The fae don't fear death, smellfungus. Do ya?" Medi shrugged. "Guess we'll do this the hard way." The spoons they'd used flew into her small hands. The fairy shouted, "Charge!" and teetered toward the genies on pencil-thin heels.

They roared with laughter... until they began screaming.

Spoons became sickles as Medi disappeared. Her size continuously fluctuated as she flew with maddening speed from one to the next, cutting Achilles and bicep tendons. The agitated genies called upon their magic to fight back against the assault but discovered that a smaller size did not mean diminished strength. Flying upward, Medi's tiny fist cracked jaws and slammed into noses at will.

Kristy started toward the house as soon as the screaming began. She ran, diving low when they reached for her, twisting and turning to escape grasping hands as if she were the prized running back in the Superbowl. The genie made it to the porch when a feminine shriek pierced the air.

She turned back.

Cataran, a bleeding gash across his face, stood over a normal-sized Medi, a spear jabbed between her breasts. "You've annoyed me for the last time!" He snarled, yanking out his weapon. Medi fell to the ground, her body still. "Now die like the worm you are." He raised the spear—

And Kristy was there, kneeling before the injured fae. Cataran lowered the weapon.

She turned her back to him, leaning over her mother, her tears landing on Medi's ashen face.

Medi opened her cloudy eyes. "Yikes... this sucks." She stuck out her hand. "Dipped... when I... shoulda dived."

Kristy brought the hand to her lips. Years of indifference and disdain had soured the genie on parental figures. But, in the brief time she'd known her mother, her outlook had changed. Medi had made a real impact.

And the hateful Cataran had ruined it!

"So proud... of ya." Medi smiled as her eyes grew dazed. "Happy... time we had."

Cataran yanked Kristy upward before she could respond. Angry tears flowed from her sapphire eyes as she glared at him. He tightened his grip on her arm.

"Leave with me now, or I swear I'll finish her right now."

She said through clenched teeth, "Let me help her first."

"I struck to kill. There's nothing you can do." Cataran sighed. "Make your choice."

Kristy gazed down at her mother—the little face seemed almost peaceful. If she left with Cataran, the dampening field would come down sooner. Medi could call for help! Kenwylis could get Victor, their best hope. He could adjust time and save her mother like he had saved Adam! Her injury was grave, so the sooner, the better.

Kristy nodded. "I'll come."

"Remove those shoes, Krysania," he ordered. "It's time you relearned your place."

Reaching down, she took off her sneakers, her bare feet settling on the sun-warmed grass. With eyes downcast, Kristy prayed that was all he'd ask. But luck was not with her. Cataran raised her arm and frowned at the bracelet on her wrist.

"You will not wear another man's token, Krysania."

Kristy undid the clasp, turned, and attached the only jewelry she'd ever cared for on her mother's wrist. She snapped off the heart with Victor's name with deft fingers, hiding it in her pocket as she rose.

Cataran's men had carted the casualties home. Besides the injured fairy, only they remained. "You will thank me for the honor I'll bestow on you, Krysania."

The sapphire eyes were frigid. "Go to hell, Cataran."

He frowned, pulling the girl close.

The two disappeared.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed the chapter please leave a comment or vote.