By dawn, five scared-silent fairies were underneath a display case in Gretchen's long, well-lit second-floor hallway. They were waiting for an opportunity to make progress toward the stairs, but the humans had been stomping by nonstop for hours.

"Do you think it's safe to move yet?" Joe whispered to Chris when the hall finally cleared.

"I think so."

Chris had been contemplative for a while, trying to come up with the most efficient way to escape from his aunt's house and get to an airport. There were fewer options than he would have liked. The weather, although not as bitterly cold as in Chibougamau, was still on the uncomfortable side. They would have to find an empty house that had an available car and unattended keys. That would require time-consuming trial and error. On top of that, people would be on high alert with a murder suspect in town.

"Why don't we see if Gretchen can help us so we're not wandering around the streets of Westport all day?" Joe said, breaking into Chris's thoughts.

Gretchen. Their instincts about each other had been on the mark. They weren't ever going to part as "friends." Still, she was his mother's sister and had no way of knowing how big of a mess they were in before the SWAT team had shown up.

"Yeah," Chris reluctantly agreed. "We need to at least warn her. I don't want her death on my conscience."

Chris peeked out from underneath the display case. The closest piece of furniture was a decorative table by the staircase, about ten human-sized paces away. He ducked back under when two men in suits rounded the corner.

"That is one long walk," Chris complained once the detectives went into the bedroom.

When the hall cleared again, Chris squatted down to give the twins instructions. "See that table by the stairs?" They peered out and nodded. "I want you to fly over there and hide underneath. Can you do that for me?" They nodded again.

Chris looked left and right one last time. Then he signaled for the twins to fly. Chris, Joe, and Cassie hunched over and watched the children flutter over to the table faster than the three of them could have ever achieved on foot.

Joe agreed to go next and darted out into the open when the time was right. Then Chris looked to Cassie. She was lingering by the wall, immersed in shadow. Her silence hadn't concerned him until now. He walked over to her with a halfhearted smile and put his arm around her shoulders. "C'mon, this is child's play compared to what we've already been through."

"Oh, I'm fine," she said falteringly. "Well, no, I'm not. What concerns me is that I didn't grab my knapsack in Joe's room. It has all of our weapons, supplies, clothing, food. . ."

Chris glanced back at Joe's room. Voices were originating from that direction. "It looks like we're gonna have to cut our losses. I still have my bag. There are a few things we can wear, and there's some money left."

"Sorry," Cassie said with her eyes averted to the floor. "I should have remembered to grab it."

She really was sorry, too sorry under the circumstances. She was acting as if he was going to yell at her. Or worse. He didn't want her head to hang low on his behalf, so he tapped her underneath her chin. She looked up at him with her wide, pensive stare.

"It's all right. You were a little preoccupied saving our tails again. You're one up by the way."

He was still keeping track of who saved whose life. Did she catch that? Of course. A little cheer came to her eyes and it took away a layer of darkness.

"I'm a light sleeper and thankfully you are as well. Joe on the other hand—"

"Could sleep through a nuclear holocaust. He's always been like that. Are you ready?"

Chris checked to see if Joe had made it to the other end of the hall. He had, and he was waving for them to come forward.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she said, taking a position at the edge of the display case.

"I'll be right behind you."

Cassie glanced at him over her shoulder. He gave her a reassuring nod and then she ran out. As promised, Chris followed closely behind.

Everyone reconvened underneath the table. Now, with a decent view of the first floor, Chris instructed the twins to fly down and hide behind the potted palm tree in the foyer.

When their wings stopped buzzing, Joe, Cassie, and Chris stumbled down the slippery ledge between the iron banister and the steps while holding on to the lower rail.

"Where do you think Gretchen is?" Chris wondered aloud. He was the last to arrive at their new meeting place—the potted plant—and he stood out more than the others. It was a bright morning, he had the doll purse over his shoulder, and the nearest wall was about three feet away.

"I'm not sure," Joe answered. "Why don't I try to find her by myself? I'll be back in a few minutes and then we can all go talk to her together. Or I'll talk and the rest of you can be, say, visual aids. It's time we come clean. . . ."

"Okay. Whatever. Just hurry!"

Joe went to the kitchen first but soon returned. He shook his head and then crossed toward the piano room and disappeared behind the stairs.

After several long minutes, his tiny head popped out from behind a wall. He called them forward with his hand and led their fairy crew to the den at the back of the house. They tried to stay inconspicuous by the wall, circumventing or going underneath furniture in their path. But they had to walk along the open floor to approach Gretchen on the couch.

When she spotted their movement, Gretchen retracted her legs and retreated into the cushions. Coffee sloshed out of the cup in her hand. After peering down at the contents of her cup as if she believed it was the source of a hallucination, she set the cup aside and hunched over for a better look at them, her mouth gaping open.

"So, uh, our story is a little more complicated than what we told you when we got here yesterday," Joe informed her, loud and clear for his size.

"What. . . ?" Gretchen breathed.

"Well, you see, it sounds ridiculous to admit this out loud, but Chris and I are technically fairies—and so are his children, here, Ryan and Morgan—and we have our father to thank for it. Oh, and this is Princess Cassiopeia of the fairy city of Pyxis." Joe set his hand on Cassie's shoulder.

"This is ludicrous. This has to be a dream!" She pinched her eyes shut, and when she reopened them, she pressed her lips into a firm line, clearly frustrated that the reality in front of her had not changed. "He . . . he . . . killed his wife!"

She pointed at miniature Chris and then her arm slackened. The fairy phenomenon didn't seem to reinforce any of her previous assumptions. But it didn't appear to exonerate him, either.

"I didn't kill her," Chris shouted back. "She was murdered by our father's enemies!"

"Why should I believe you? Or any of this!" Her closed eyes refused to see. She dismissed them with the flick of her hand.

Chris could feel his face ignite to a raging red. His lips twitched, close to spurting some choice words, but Joe gave him the signal to back off.

"Gretchen, please. . ." Joe took a step forward. "I know this is a lot to take in. But we're in danger, and now that the whole world knows we're here, you're in danger, too."

"Me? Why?" Finally, her eyes were receptive, like a blindness had lifted. Chris, Joe, and the others may have been small, but they were undeniably present. Thanks to news she did not want to hear, she was at least considering that possibility.

"As Chris said, our father has enemies, and those enemies not only killed Alana but also captured us. We escaped, and they're following us with the intent to kill, along with anyone involved. They can go from fairy size to human size and back again, just like we can, which only makes the danger to you greater," Joe said in a level tone that allowed the outlandish story to penetrate their aunt's understanding. "Trust me. I don't mean to give orders, but you need to get us out of here. We have to get to the nearest airport as soon as possible."

"The police are crawling all over this place," Gretchen sputtered. "Do you really think they'll let me drive away right now?"

"We have to find a way," Joe continued calmly. "You should get out of here, too, until this all blows over. Call your daughters and tell them to stay away as well."

Everyone froze as footsteps fell along the hall. Gretchen threw her legs in front of them.

"Is everything okay in here, ma'am?"

Gretchen gave the stocky man in a suit a fake smile. "All is well."

"Is there someone you were talking to?" the officer pressed.

"I was talking to myself. I do it all the time. No one usually worries until I start answering myself," Gretchen said archly.

Chris sidled up to Gretchen's pant leg for a better view.

The officer's condescending eyes had a hint of amusement in them. "Can we chat for a minute?"

Chris realized the situation was heading in the wrong direction and directed everyone underneath the couch.

"Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?"

The officer clearly sensed the shift in her demeanor; she was probably angry and frightened when she had opened the door to his team a few hours ago, and now she was being flippant and coy. "Why don't I escort you?"

"Is that really necessary? Honestly, the thanks I get for alerting the authorities. You treat me like a child in my own house. Hopefully, for your sake, my lawyer doesn't have to hear about this."

Chris let out a nervous breath. There was hope for Gretchen yet.

"Ma'am, calm down," the officer insisted. "There's no need to take that tone with me. Meet me in the kitchen when you're ready."

Once the officer left the room, Gretchen reached under the couch. "Just so you know, I'm doing this for my sister and not for you—and definitely not for your father."

"That's cool," Joe replied as she shoved them all in the front pocket of her zip-up sweatshirt.

The five fairies clung on tight as Gretchen strode down the hall and climbed through the bathroom window. There was one large thud to the ground, an extended period of jogging through the wind, cold, and instability of the beach, some stair climbing, and then a knock.

A door creaked open. "Gretchen? How are you?" an elderly woman asked her. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine. Linda, I need a favor. . . ."

Gretchen spun an incredible story to her neighbor that explained away the SWAT team and resulted in being handed the keys to Linda's Mercedes. She proceeded calmly to the garage, backed the car down the driveway, and drove past the police cars.

Once they were rolling along, Joe crawled out of her pocket first. "Gretchen, you were incredible! I couldn't have done better myself!"

She let out a deep, dramatic breath. "Remind me again why I'm doing this?"

"Because we're your nephews and you love us?"

As Chris stepped out of Gretchen's pocket, he noticed that she looked annoyed rather than amused. Joe's charm wasn't nearly as effective as it had been the day prior. With one wrong word, their aunt could change her mind and thwart his and Joe's quest to find their father.

"All right," she said once her knuckles unclenched a bit. "I want a better look at you."

Chris raised the edge of her pocket. Morgan and Ryan flew out and spiraled around each other, settling into a hover just below the ceiling of the car.

"Chris's children can fly?"

"Yeah, isn't it amazing?" Joe replied.

Chris then helped Cassie climb out. With Joe leading the way, they jumped from Gretchen's lap to the cup holders in the central console. They lined up within Gretchen's sight, but not in her way.

Gretchen's eye wandered over to Cassie. "So, you're a princess?"

Joe and Cassie exchanged looks. They both started speaking at the same time. "She's—"

"Yes, as Joe told you, my name is Cassiopeia. And, Gretchen, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Thank you for assisting us. Words cannot express how grateful we are."

"Beautiful and polite. You could teach these boys a few things." Gretchen glared in Chris's direction. He chose not to glare back. Instead, he looked to the cloudless morning sky outside the passenger-side window. "How do you know my nephews?"

Cassie exchanged another glance with Joe. "We met a few days ago in the city where I am from."

"She's technically . . . kind of . . . our ex-stepsister?" Joe added with a chuckle. It was the first time anyone had expressed the odd and twisted terms of the relationship.

"You'll have to explain that one to me," Gretchen said, shaking her head.

Joe enlightened her to some extent until Chris cut him off. "Gretchen, I hate to be the prince of darkness here, but the less you know, the better. Also, as Joe said back at your house, it's extremely important for you and your daughters to disappear for a while. Don't say anything to anyone about us. You're not potentially in danger. You are in danger."

"Fine, Chris. I understand," Gretchen claimed.

Her offhanded tone, however, suggested to Chris that danger wasn't exactly a concept she grasped.

⭐️⭐️⭐️