Legacy of the Fox: Family of the Fox, #3

By F.M. Isaacs

In an effort to rescue her uncle, Corinne confronts a mysterious baron who turns out to be as infamous as he is legendary. Why would this stranger kidnap Uncle Jonas? Could it have anything to do with Corinne's brother Matthew's reckless efforts to "heal the world"? Matthew may be the country's newest superstar and prophet, but he has put his entire family in the spotlight and in danger!

 

In this compelling final book of the Family of the Fox trilogy, Corinne must protect herself –and the world!– from powerful relatives past and present who refuse to play by the rules. Can she right the wrongs committed by her ancestors centuries ago while safeguarding her own future? What will be the ultimate legacy of the Family of the Fox?

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: F.M. Isaacs
• Release date: Feb 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9780999840160

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

Allen and I stood in the statue-filled ballroom of a grand estate in Maine. The property’s owner, Samuel Rothbart, loomed in front of us, hands across his chest. I’d just learned that he had kidnapped Uncle Jonas and added him to the ghastly collection of souls trapped here as sculptural artwork. That revelation, however, was not the greatest source of my consternation at the moment.

What do you mean, Samuel is your ‘real’ father, Allen? I exclaimed. Are you telling me that this man is your actual, biological father? I dreaded the inevitable answer.

I shared my memories with you, Corinne, Allen answered softly. You must recognize him from them.

Even when Allen had shown me the old newspaper clipping of Samuel to help me locate him, I’d experienced the eerie feeling that I’d seen him before. Yet Allen’s three hundred years of memories remained cordoned off in a separate area of my mind; I hadn’t had the chance to sort them out yet.

The handsome, redheaded man grinned broadly, but there was something slightly sinister in his smile. I found myself looking away.

Indeed, my dear son Aaron is telling the truth...Granddaughter!

Granddaughter? I swung back around to view him. Just what I needed: being face-to-face with yet another ancient and dangerous ancestor who had somehow reached the twenty-first century.  

I stepped forward, gathering up the strength and nerve to confront him. He was dressed far too extravagantly for our impromptu visit, wearing a tuxedo that fit so well that it must have been crafted just for him; perhaps he had been expecting us.

Whoever you are, why did you kidnap my uncle? I demanded icily.

Before he could respond, disembodied words pierced through my thoughts. Get out while you can! Samuel’s a murderer! You can see it with your own eyes! He’s changed us all to stone!

Snorting, our mysterious host focused on the statue nearest to us. The male figure wasn’t particularly attractive, yet it was so lifelike that it seemed as if it would lunge at us at any moment.

"I’m a murderer? Let’s talk about your body count, Henri. The only reason I’ve kept you conscious is because you actually showed some remorse for your crimes."

And you have none! Who do you think you are? God?

Samuel smirked. Well, someone has to do his work.

Why you? Did he ask you to?

I didn’t need to be asked. I do what is necessary.

Necessary? You’re torturing us!

Placing his hands on his hips, Samuel mocked, Oh, the poor murderer is being tortured so terribly? He leaned closer, pushing his face into the unmoving stone visage. "Meanwhile, your victims are dead, you hear? Dead! Stepping back and narrowing his eyes, he added, Now that will be quite enough, Henri! Leave us alone or I’ll silence you."

You kids have to help us! Henri insisted. Get the government involved!

After glowing very slightly, the figure went quiet; I couldn’t sense anything from it at all.

Ah, much better. Samuel turned away, surveying the other statues around us. And I would appreciate it greatly if the rest of you would keep silent. He rubbed his hands together and, with a small sniffle, focused back on us. I do apologize for the unfortunate interruption. Now where were we?

I didn’t know what to say. How could I simply continue on as though his prisoners weren’t present in the room? It would be like accepting that they were just a part of the decor. I closed off my mind so I wouldn’t have to hear them anymore.

Father, Allen inquired, just how long has Henri been here?

He’s a murderer, son, Samuel replied nonchalantly. Does it matter?

Allen shook his head in disapproval, and his father looked to me for further comment.

I have to be strong, I reminded myself. Once Uncle Jonas is safe, I can try to help anyone else who needs it.

So you're Allen's father, I stated nervously. I took a tentative peek into Allen’s memories and quickly spied Samuel’s intense features winding through many of them. Of course I didn’t need to ask how he could still be alive. As evidenced by the statues all around us, Samuel was a changer, just like his son. If Allen could shapeshift into different forms to live for centuries, then so could his father.

The man’s green eyes shined at me. You might not believe that we’re related, given the guise my son has taken on for you. He studied Allen’s dark hair and blue eyes with poorly-concealed distaste. You’ve shown her your true appearance, Son?

We have no secrets, Allen grunted in reply.

Very shrewd of you. Samuel nodded solemnly. He faced me, and a smile slowly inched its way across his lips. But yes, Corinne. I’m his father, and, through Aaron’s brother, that makes me –he raised his arms theatrically– your grandfather – give or take a few 'greats'! Gently, he took my hand and planted a kiss on it.

Samuel Rothbart is at your service, Mademoiselle! He bowed deeply.

When he let go of my hand, I blinked at it for several moments before dropping my arm to my side. No one had ever treated me so gallantly – not even Allen – and I had no idea how to respond.

Allen didn’t seem very impressed, however. "'At your service'? Really, Father? I thought everyone was at your service," he chided, waving his hand toward Samuel’s silent prisoners. I followed his gaze to a nearby table, where the porcelain figurine of Uncle Jonas rested precariously close to the edge. Dressed in pre-Civil War finery, he was transformed so completely that he wasn’t conscious. He existed only as a work of art, and I needed to rescue him.

Disregarding Allen’s pointed barb, the dashing Samuel continued. "My great-granddaughter must be addressed like royalty! In fact, my kin is beyond royalty. Come, Corinne, you belong on this red carpet." Grabbing my hand, he led me onto a scarlet runner. We followed it through the room and up a small platform. On reaching the top step, Samuel proceeded to climb onto a throne-like, velvet chair which matched the color of the rug to perfection. I paused, glancing back worriedly at the statue of my uncle. It took a great deal of self-control not to grab him and run right then and there.

Are you unsure as to whether you belong on a red carpet, Corinne?

With a start, I realized that my left foot had strayed onto the white marble step. The whole situation seemed ludicrous, and yet I hastily repositioned myself back onto the runner. Never really been into the whole royalty thing much. Sorry, I mumbled.

Oh, you mustn't apologize to me, he chuckled. It is I who must make his apologies to you. I understand I caused you and your uncle some angst by following you through time.

Allen walked up to the foot of the stairs and snapped, You've caused us more angst by kidnapping the man!

Samuel gestured dismissively. Fortunately, Allen didn’t keep quarreling: after all, we needed answers, not arguments.

Would either of you like to sit? Samuel offered.

No thank you, Allen replied stonily. 

I glanced back and forth at them, hoping that Allen would reel in his anger. So you’re the ‘little girl’ who followed us around in the past, I commented. It’s a little hard to believe. 

I did it for my son. My Aaron asked me to help. He peered over at Allen, who avoided returning his gaze.

Father, I’ve told you to call me Allen now. You never listen.

Of course, of course. What’s in a name, right? Samuel turned back to me. It’s like I told you. Aaron – Allen – wanted me to keep an eye out for time travelers so that he could return to you. I can’t time travel, but I can sense disturbances in time, and I kept detecting you and your family popping in through the centuries. When you became a cheetah and pinned me down. I'd already picked up some English from Aaron, so I took those few moments to figure out who you were by hearing your thoughts. You had your mind quite open to me at that point.

"Allen, Father. Call me Allen."

I shook my head. I had wondered about that cheetah experience. Even though I’d been ready to rip the throat out from my little-red-haired-girl prey, she had merely grinned at me.

Later, when I saw you in Safed, I quickly fetched Aaron over to you. Although he disguised himself, he still wasn't successful in convincing you and your uncle to take him forward in time.

Giving up on correcting his father, Allen burst out, "Unless I forced them, which I refused to do, why would they take a stranger forward? Look what happened when Daniel – her brother – took me ahead!"

Perhaps if you were more convincing, my son.

"Why didn't you just force them, Baron von Rothbart?" Allen yelled. Rather petulantly, he stepped away from us.

I could have heard a pin drop in the silence. Allen might have been several centuries old, but that didn’t stop him from acting like the teenager he’d changed himself into for me.

I cleared my throat. Why did you run from us, Samuel?

With his eyes still on his son, he explained, I couldn't let you find out who I was! I could shield my mind from you as much as I wanted, but I was concerned you might sense our blood ties. I hoped that being transformed would make it harder to pick up.

Why were you disguised as a little girl? I demanded.

Well, I kept my hair color! Samuel pointed out.

Disgusted, Allen exclaimed, I had no idea that's the form you took to follow them. Why didn't you tell me? I figured you were your usual owl.

Oh, my son! Have some fun! A young girl blends in most easily, and the feeling of youth is exhilarating. Have you been a child recently, Corinne?

I blinked at him. This monster who changed people into artwork liked to be a child?

About five years ago, no transforming required, I answered a little too brusquely.

Perhaps, but you're no child any longer, Samuel said, studying me intently. You have centuries on your soul. He pointed at Allen without facing his way. You mind-merged with her, he intoned almost accusingly, and he finally made eye contact with his son.

As they glared at each other, I stepped away from Samuel’s chair.

Please remain, Samuel ordered. I froze.

Allen flung his arms to his sides. Father, you know I haven't touched her, he said, shaking his head as he spoke.

I know. But you burdened her.

I love her and I want to marry her. You know that very well.

My mouth fell open. Allen didn’t flinch, nor did he look at me. Corinne, you’re aware of my intentions. You were there as a bird when I said it to Jonas that day.

He'd known all along that I'd been spying on him and my uncle! Feverishly, I debated what was the best way to respond, considering his father appeared quite keen on hearing my answer as well. Honestly seemed like the best choice. I'm...I'm not ready... I stuttered.

An expression of approval crossed Samuel’s face and he nodded as if he were expecting my reaction. This bothered me so much that I flipped around and stared pointedly at poor, imprisoned Uncle Jonas. I did not approve of how my uncle had been treated.

I hoped that Samuel would mention Jonas, but Allen cut in. I waited centuries for you, Corinne. I'll wait some more. He deliberately stepped away from his father and into a corner of the room. If he could have, he probably would have walked through the wall to add even more distance between them.

We will discuss later, Aaron. Samuel cleared his throat and turned toward me.

So, Corinne, welcome to the house of Rothbart... Baron von, if you prefer to use the title that Her Majesty inadvertently bestowed upon me. Please, I’d really like you to sit and get comfortable. He rose and dragged a marble bench next to his chair.

There was that name again. "Rothbart – like in the Swan Lake ballet?"

He sat back down. Indeed.

Allen coughed.

Wait, so you’re...Baron von Rothbart? I exclaimed. Like, the ballet’s about you? Perhaps I would have been more surprised at this if I hadn’t known that Allen was the villain of The Sad Little Peahen.

Corinne, please get comfortable first, would you? Samuel requested.

As I settled down onto the bench, I heard someone cry, Watch it!

I jumped up and scrutinized the room, realizing only then that the words had been shouted in my mind. I noticed that if I wasn’t consciously focusing on keeping my mind closed, words from the transformed would sometimes break through. Who was that? Who just yelled out?

Samuel yawned. Oh, that's just your chair. Randy's never been used. He tapped at the marble, and I could swear I saw a contorted countenance in its veins. I quickly averted my gaze.

Randy, have no fear. You're fine and sturdy. Do your job.

Sorry, sorry, Sir.

Sit, Corinne.

I couldn't look at the seat. Sorry, I whispered. I closed my mind as tightly as I could and lowered myself down extra gently. Using a person as furniture horrified me, but I didn't want to antagonize Samuel; the way Allen was behaving toward him was bad enough.

Aaron? Would you like a chair?

"Allen would rather stand here in his corner," Allen answered pointedly.

Suit yourself. Samuel faced me, eyes sparkling. Now, you were asking?

Trying to forget the fact that I was using a human being as a chair, I resumed, You were also the man Allen talked to when we went to the ballet.

"I attend every production of Swan Lake I possibly can. It amuses me greatly."

And he never fails to laugh when the dancer who plays him comes onto the stage, Allen contributed.

Ah, those costumes are often so hideous! If I'm to change into an owl, I become an owl! No crazy makeup, no...tights! he spat.

Well, we can't all be changers, Allen said lightly.

I thought of the plot of Swan Lake, how the evil Rothbart changed innocents into swans. His spell made Princess Odette a swan by day and a maiden by night. In order to break the enchantment, a man needed to promise his love to her and remain faithful to his vow. How much of the tale was fact and how much was fiction? If my ancestor was truly the villain in the story, was Samuel more than just a changer? Were we safe around him?

What’s wrong, Corinne? he asked, noting the concern etched on my face. Is this about Jonas? Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time for him. Let's first finish getting acquainted, shall we?

I gulped. At least he’d acknowledged my uncle. Whether Samuel was family or not, I'd seen firsthand from my experiences with Allen how a man could betray his own kin if he felt desperate enough. I tried my best to appear calm and to act intrigued by his words. "So both you and Allen are fairy tale villains from history?"

My dear, Samuel cried, clapping his hands together, "we define history!"

A scowl threatened to come over my face. I fought it valiantly, yet Samuel noticed nonetheless.

What is the matter, pray tell?

Judging from Samuel's speech, I could see that he must have been far more isolated than his son. When Allen had first been brought forward from the 1300s, he'd started out sounding like an old English novel too, but he’d learned a lot of idiomatic English by talking with people and by immersing himself in literature.

"What’s wrong, you mean? Allen snorted. She probably thinks you're awful, Baron."

Samuel belted out a deep laugh and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, my dear, you mustn't believe all you hear! Swan Lake is just that – a fairy tale!"

"Just like The Sad Little Peahen?" Allen raised his brow.

"Ah, Aaron's story is much closer to reality than mine. Visit me again, and I'll tell you all about the real story. We'll transform; it'll be so nice to have a young daughter beside me once more. Mine are all gone; Aaron is my only remaining child – his sister Malka was killed. Sylvia is like a daughter to me, but she's no longer truly young."

After seven hundred years, you're lucky you have surviving children, said Allen.

Malka was killed? I exclaimed, remembering after a moment that I'd never actually met her – Allen had disguised himself as his sister when we'd traveled back to his time. Yet if I pushed into the area of my mind where Allen’s memories resided, I could see her threading through them. She had meant the world to Allen.

She was a very good person, I uttered. Allen bowed his head.

Yes, she perished long ago, Samuel answered, his eyes momentarily distant. Placing his arm around me, he finished his thought. All the more reason I'd love to show you the secrets of the centuries. Come explore with me one day.

Almost subconsciously, I cringed and pulled away.

Samuel dropped his arm to his side, looking hurt. You’d prefer not to. You’re worried about me?

Allen watched as I wrestled with an answer. I decided to be brave. You kidnapped my uncle. How could I not be?

Jonas is safe! I told you!

I gathered myself up, debating if mentioning his prisoners would anger him. Something needed to be said about them, and he needed to hear it from anyone other than Allen. You turn people into statues and...swans!

Samuel stood up. To punish them! I change them back when they've served their time and learned their lessons!

Not all of them, Allen answered darkly.

Mass murderers do not deserve to be part of human society, Samuel replied. Don't tell me you disagree. He walked over to a side table, which probably was a person too. There were so many souls in the room that I could hardly distinguish one from the other.

Samuel grabbed up a candlestick that resembled a macabre version of a Beauty and the Beast character. The middle candle holder had a twisted face ingrained in the silver. I couldn't pull my eyes from the terror in its expression, yet, when I opened my mind to the object, it was absolutely devoid of consciousness.

That's a person? I asked, confused. I don't hear anything from him.

Solomon went mad ages ago. His sentience, soul, whatever you want to call it, is gone. He's dead.

I stepped back. Oh...no, that's...

Do not pity him! Samuel scowled, hurling the candlestick to the floor. Do you know what this man did? He killed our family! Yes, Corinne, that's your family too! He denounced us as witches since we healed and helped people. So many of our kin were tortured, stoned, or burned at the stake – the ones who couldn't help themselves, who couldn't transform or escape, including children! Then one day he came and took me. And I let him. He tied me to a stake, he lit the flames himself, and then, at the very last minute, I started to toy with him.

The pounding of my heart actually hurt. My body seemed frozen in place, Samuel’s words holding me ensorcelled. Yet Allen remained stony, folding his arms across his chest, revealing nothing.

Yes, Solomon was the worst kind of traitor! When he was a child, I saved his life. Yet when he grew older, he denounced me, threatening to destroy all I hold dear! So, as a changer, I invented tortures that no normal human would be capable of performing. When I was done, I made him into this! He kicked at the candlestick, sending it crashing into the wall. I made sure I burned candles in him every night. And yes, I let him feel it.

He stomped down the red-carpeted stairs, passing the statues without a glance. Allen followed, and motioned me to do the same. I pulled myself from my trance and stumbled after them.

We ended up in the front hallway, where a statue of Mercury guarded the door. Of course, it wasn’t truly a statue. It was a transformed teen named Nate, who I’d already met on my way into Samuel’s chamber of horrors.

It felt odd not to acknowledge the imprisoned young man, so I opened my mind slightly and delivered a quick greeting to him.

Nice to see you again, he replied.

Samuel ignored us both. Sylvia? he called out, his back to the figure.

I waited for him to say something about the statue, but he continued to pretend that Nate didn’t exist. Incensed, I spoke up. "Why is Nate here?  What did he do?"

Surprised and a bit irritated, Samuel regarded the staid statue. Nate? He burned my house down. Purposely. With a small smirk, he poked the stone arm. I considered transforming him into a new house, but who wants to live inside an arsonist?

He paused, perhaps expecting us to laugh. When we didn’t, his lips tightened, and he concluded, Instead, Nate stands by my door and guards it.

And how does a statue stop a thief? Allen scoffed. Does he fall on the person?

Anyone who deprives me of my property –Samuel spread out his arms– becomes my property.

Even though that hadn't quite answered Allen's question, I shuddered.

Sylvia entered. She moved past Nate dismissively, as if he were a piece of furniture or a neglected pet. Yes, Samuel?

Syl, show her around, would you?

She nodded, and Samuel turned to Allen. Come, let's talk, my son. He tapped Allen on the back. Allen blinked dubiously at me.

I held up my arms in an I’ll be fine gesture.

She’ll be absolutely safe, Samuel added as he opened the door. Go with Sylvia, Granddaughter, he called over his shoulder.

I grimaced at his term of endearment, but something shifted very slightly inside me. This man felt grandfatherly toward me; he started to remind me of a very extreme version of Grandpa Brian.

Sylvia and I watched father and son transform themselves into hawks and fly into the approaching twilight.

I love to see him change, she smiled, shutting the door behind them. He's magnificent.

Sylvia wore dressy slacks and a lavender blouse. Other than her outfit, she appeared no different than she had in Allen’s old 1940s newspaper clipping of her and Samuel. Her dark hair set off a pale, plain face that was devoid of wrinkles or flaws. No one would ever guess that she really was an old woman.

The first time I saw what Samuel could do, I can't even begin to describe to you how amazed I was. I couldn't fathom that this dark, handsome man – he often goes out in public with dark hair – could actually transform! I remember staring at him as he stood there looking all dashing in a tuxedo, and marveling at how this large, wonderful man could shrink into a little beetle or something. It was simply mind-boggling!

I nodded, smiling to myself. Even now, she seemed pretty taken with Samuel and changers in general. Her experience sounded very much like my own first few encounters with Allen, right down to the tuxedo.

The first time I saw Allen change, I couldn't even process it, I replied.

She grinned. And it never gets old, right? She took my hand. On that note, why don't you come see more of Samuel's gallery?

Gallery? Is that what he calls it? I whispered, and my warm thoughts quickly died away. I felt like I was about to take a tour of the cemetery where Uncle Jonas was interred. Perhaps now would be a good time to try to save him.

I trailed down the hall after Sylvia. Her heels clacked against the granite floor, creating odd echoes. Did she and Samuel always dress so nicely? Somehow, I couldn’t picture either of them lounging around in sweatpants.

Not once did Sylvia look at the impressive artwork adorning the white-and-silver-papered walls, but I slowed down slightly and studied them closer. The colors and brushstrokes were exquisite. Perhaps they were real Monets and Van Goghs. If not, they were incredible copies. Most portrayed quiet nature scenes; there were no fantastical wizard images or swan-filled lakes. In fact, there was nothing inside or outside of the house to suggest who Samuel really was – no Tchaikovsky ballet posters, sculptures of ancient castles, or Swan Lake music being piped through the halls. Samuel appeared to live like any wealthy gentleman, including maintaining a rather extensive art collection. Only the eclectic assemblage of sculptures reminded me of the shocking truth about this powerful man.

I followed Sylvia back into the red-carpeted room. Does he live here? I inquired.

Well, not in this room. This is where he receives visitors. She smiled sardonically and waved her arm. Some of whom become residents, as you can see.

She didn't seem at all perturbed by her statement, which didn’t really surprise me, seeing how devoted she was to Samuel. Often, he comes here to observe his statues and to talk with them, to see who's been reformed versus who's unrepentant.

I wasn't sure if she knew that my uncle was part of the collection, so I kept silent about his presence. I didn’t even face in his direction, for fear of calling her attention to him. This was not the time for a rescue attempt after all, I decided. It would be much wiser to wait and see if Samuel would offer to do it on his own. But I did relax the barrier in my mind somewhat. It was unlikely that Samuel had suddenly brought Uncle Jonas back to consciousness, but if so, I wanted to make sure I would hear him.

The first figures we came across were two goddesses standing side-by-side. Sylvia rested her hands on one. Bob and Mike, these lovely Venus statues, were sport hunting on Samuel's land. Samuel can’t abide people who hunt animals for fun and then leave them to suffer and die. It’s one thing if they’re to be used for food, and it’s a quick, painless death, you understand? He knows firsthand that animals feel pain! She sniffled and shook her head. Anyway, he's got several hunters in this room. They don't seem to understand the ‘no trespassing’ and ‘no hunting’ signs. They're serving their time. Almost done.

Almost done? I've been here for a year already! one of them cried out.

Were they embarrassed that they were half-naked and female? I assumed that Samuel was trying to humiliate them. Either that, or he just had a nasty sense of humor. How much longer do you have? I asked. As statues, I mean.

Sylvia looked at me, stunned. You hear them? Are you a changer, too?

Yes. Allen helped me find out. I didn't tell her how that had transpired, since I didn't want to dredge up his long-ago cruelty. I also wasn’t about to share my life experiences with a stranger.

Samuel says we have several more months before he'll consider letting us go.

Yes, said the other statue. I think it's seven. You lose track of the days after a while, being stone, you know?

But he will let you go, right? I tried not to sound too dubious.

I hope so. And if he does, I can tell you I will never ignore a sign again. Or hunt! I never once thought about how painful and slow a death we were giving these animals just so we could have a little entertainment.

Now what did that comment mean? He wouldn’t have come to these conclusions by being changed into stone, could he? What else did Samuel do to you? I had to ask.

Transformed us into deer and hunted us. Let us feel a few gunshots.

I cringed, but justice was justice. Samuel hadn't killed them; he’d reformed them so they'd never kill for fun again. Perhaps Baron von Rothbart actually did have some justification for his actions.

Sylvia’s face clouded over as she moved to the next victim. The stone eyes of this warped, contorted statue were filled with hatred and terror. This is...was...Melvin Boehm. Ever hear the name? Back in 1952, he attacked and murdered at least twenty girls, then disappeared.

The Boehm murders! I exclaimed. They made a movie about him, although he goes to Hell in the end. Repulsed, I studied the figure nonetheless. I’m guessing they were half-right.

Samuel set a trap for him. I offered to be the bait. She grinned, flicking some dust off of the stone man’s arm. It worked.

Curious, I reached out, searching for the soul inside, yet, like the candlestick, there was no trace of consciousness. Samuel had let this man suffer and die in a hell far more frightening than any biblical one.

So this happened in 1952, and Allen has a picture of you and Samuel from the forties. If you don’t mind my asking, just how old are you?

One hundred and... She paused, reddening. Well, far older than you.

Samuel...

Keeps me young. Yes. I help him, in turn.

Why you?

She sat back in a comfortable-looking loveseat sandwiched between the statues. This piece of furniture didn't seem to be a person, but I wasn't taking any chances. I remained standing.

Oh, Corinne, there’s a whole story behind it.

I'm listening.

She licked her lips, gazing off to a place somewhere behind me. Samuel has led a tortured life. To escape it, sometimes he’d go somewhere remote, transform himself, and stay that way for years at a time. He slept as a crystal through the nineteen-thirties and part of the forties, deep in the earth, waking in 1945 to discover the world had practically ended. Millions killed in Europe, so many of his descendants, and he'd missed his chance to save them. If there’s one thing he’s always regretted, it’s that he’s not a time traveler.

What a time to remove yourself from the world, I thought to myself. He simply slept for over a decade? Why?

I know Aldous did the same thing on occasion – I guess it serves as a well-needed break. The average human brain cannot handle living for so long. In my old age, I’m coming to learn that myself.

Samuel’s hardly average.

Nodding, she crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. Although you’re quite right, there’s still a human soul in there. In fact, he’s experienced so much heartache in all of those centuries, it amazes me that he continues to remain sane.

Well, I replied, lowering my voice, it doesn’t sound like he’s always been as sane as he could be.

Sylvia snapped her mouth shut, and I felt guilty. Samuel served as a father figure to her; perhaps it wasn’t so wise to speak against him. So what happened when he woke up?

He was desperate to find any surviving descendants. I'd survived Terezín – the Theresienstadt concentration camp – and was searching for relatives. Samuel sensed immediately that I was family. He took care of me, sent me to school, and treated me as his own daughter. In his spare time, he hunted Nazis. She nodded wistfully. You think any of them got away? Like they escaped to South America? She shook her head. Nope. Anyone who escaped trial eventually got transformed into whatever Samuel fancied at the moment.

But...some of them supposedly lived long lives after...

She chuckled. Until he found them. He faked plenty of deaths. Made it seem like they died, then he came back and, well... She smiled evilly.

My God... I breathed.

She gave a slight shrug.

Voices echoed from the front hall and Sylvia lit up. They’re back!

That was fast, I commented. I could barely imagine the discussion they must have had.

Let’s go up front and meet them, she suggested. She stood up and beckoned me to follow her out of the room. I was just glad that I didn't need to continue the macabre tour.

We walked down the hall to where the two men conversed by the front door. They looked none the worse for wear after their flight.

Ah, Corinne, Samuel exclaimed on seeing me, Aaron insists I return your uncle to you.

My heart felt like it was about to leap out of my mouth. That would be nice, I replied, attempting to remain composed. I looked over at Nate, standing sentry behind the two men. He didn’t say anything, but I knew he was listening intently to our every word.

I think you owe her some answers about why you kidnapped him, Allen advised coldly.

Ah, Samuel said, bobbing his head back and forth, let an old man have his fun, Aaron. He smiled, but Allen’s face twisted in vexation.

Jonas did nothing to deserve that. He’s a good man.

I didn't actually kidnap him; I borrowed him. I wanted to meet you, Corinne, Samuel answered, and at long last, I saw something resembling human emotion in his eyes – wistfulness, or perhaps loneliness. I want to join my family once more. After all these years, I'd like to become part of the lives of my descendants.

We have other descendants, Allen said, but he phrased this more as a question.

Regarding him fixedly, Samuel answered, Well, other than your daughter Hannah, I lost track of most of them. It used to not interest me enough to search for them. Then, many were killed during the wars. You know that.

I tried to discern if Samuel was being truthful or if he had darker intentions, but I couldn’t detect much of anything from him. You could’ve just invited us over, I suggested carefully.

And would you have come? I think not. I've been imploring Aaron to introduce me for years, and he kept saying the time was not right. You know, the whole time travel thing made it so you didn’t know him yet... Anyway, I finally gave him a bit of incentive to bring you by.

You sure did, Allen spat.

Before I give you your uncle, promise me you’ll return. You must meet my swans!

With trepidation, I thought of the swans I’d seen in the lake nearby. Maybe they weren’t as innocent as the Swan Lake story let on? I would have to check on them to see if they needed help as well. I’ll come back, I agreed.

Good, good. Samuel continued on, clicking his tongue as he looked me over. However, this won't do. If you're to be my daughter-in-law, you deserve everything. Here, let me turn Nate into a diamond bracelet for you!

"Nate’s not a thing to–" Allen’s protest was cut short. The Mercury statue glowed and fell to the floor as a sparkling tennis bracelet, which Samuel fetched up.

Hm, you look good like this, Nate, he remarked.

I think my jaw dropped ten feet as he handed the object over.

Hey! I'm not jewelry! it protested.

I was so appalled that I couldn’t keep myself from reacting. I dropped the bracelet to the floor, changed Nate back into a person, and then stood back and folded my hands across my chest defiantly.

Blonde and quite attractive in human form, Nate stretched his arms out appreciatively. I haven't stretched in ages! Thank you so much!

Good job, Corinne, Allen commended.

Samuel's face darkened. With an angry frown at Allen, he said, Now, now. My own daughter-in-law-to-be isn't accepting my gift?

My mind went somewhere I didn't want it to. If Allen and I did actually marry, my father-in-law would be an evil villain, not to mention also being my own lineal ancestor. Of course, my husband would also be an infamous fairy-tale bad guy. Uncle Jonas would have a field day with this whole convoluted mess, genealogically and otherwise, if I ever rescued him.

Samuel waved at Nate, bringing my attention back to the present. Aw, damn, the young man managed to cry out, crestfallen. He glowed and fell back to the ground, now small, round, and opalescent.

If you won’t accept diamonds, you’ll take opals. Wear him! Samuel ordered, his voice chilling me to the bone.

Perhaps I’d gone too far. I didn’t want to get on Samuel’s bad side, but at least now he knew my views on the situation. Nonetheless, I complied with his wishes. Feeling guilty and awkward, I picked the bracelet up from the floor and slid it onto my wrist.

He pointed at my hand. "That's where he belongs. As precious jewelry on