§ § § - October 5, 2009

It became clear after the first two or three days that Anna-Kristina's personal demon was unusually vivid nightmares. She refused to discuss them in detail, and Leslie admitted that she could understand why. "Who'd want to relive something that terrified you?" she explained to Christian. "I had my share of nightmares before I had to face Michael's specter, and I've always thought I was very lucky I could never quite remember them."

By Monday, Anna-Kristina had begun to hallucinate some of the horrors that had been appearing in her nightmares; when Christian and Leslie dropped off the triplets at school, they took her directly to the B&B and to Rogan's greenhouse. Julie, who was refilling some of her kitchen spice jars, greeted them as Rogan came out of the back room. "Hi, how are you? Kids having fun in school?"

"They still love it," Leslie said with a grin. "We just got word that there's going to be a school fundraiser and all the grades, from kindergarten through fifth, will be doing artwork following a different theme for each grade level. The kindergartners will be creating pictures from different geometrical shapes. They'll send all the pictures to a company in California that does custom framing for schools and individuals, and then at the fundraiser the parents can buy the framed artwork. I think they're going to have that right around Christmas break—at least that's what I remember from the flyer they brought home from school on Friday. They'll have raffles and prize-winning contests, and Maureen said she'll be catering the event and donating seventy-five percent of the proceeds to the school."

"That's great," said Julie with enthusiasm. "Glad they're so excited. Rory didn't bring home a flyer though...or else maybe I just had a senior moment and forgot to check his backpack." Julie had to go through Rory's school backpack at least once a week to remove any school information, weekend homework assignments, and sometimes long-forgotten remnants of uneaten lunches. Leslie smiled at that, just as Julie noticed Anna-Kristina's pale face and twitchy demeanor. "Uh-oh. Rogan, I think you're needed here."

"Seems so," Rogan mused, taking in Anna-Kristina's drawn appearance. "What's been happenin', then?"

"I have the most horrible dreams I've ever had in my life," Anna-Kristina told him, shuddering. "I see such ugly and terrifying things. It..." She slanted a glance at a solemn-faced Christian and confessed, "It's like living in a Salvador Dali painting."

Rogan, Julie, Christian and Leslie looked at one another. "Like the kind with the melting watches?" Julie said.

"Exactly so," replied Anna-Kristina. "But much worse things than melting watches. Human forms being stretched and squeezed, and everything in nature and the sky changing to sickening colors, all shifting shapes and waving forms and...and the ugliest monsters and mutations. Every night I have worse dreams than the night before. Last night I saw my husband and daughters being tortured and mutilated."

"That's what you saw?" Christian asked, aghast. "Little wonder you woke up screaming as you did." He and Leslie exchanged a worried look, both well remembering their niece's ringing screams that had roused the entire family and terrified all four children.

"I'm deathly afraid of what I'll see next," Anna-Kristina admitted, wrapping her arms around herself as tightly as she could and shivering hard. "I wish it could be possible for me to go through the next two weeks in a coma."

Rogan let out a heavy sigh. "I think it's due to two things," he said slowly, as Julie resumed replenishing her stock of herbs and spices. "Yer family is prone to mental shenanigans as it is, the way Christian's mentioned before. But he told me that there's somethin' about yer mind an' personality that makes ye more susceptible than yer sisters. That, an' I think ye're more sensitive than yer sisters were to the thornapple in the cure."

"Is there nothing you can do?" Leslie asked. "I mean, I know you have to expect side effects with any kind of medication. But asking her to endure two weeks of mental horrors is just too much. There must be something you can do."

"Mr. Roarke gave Magga something to help with her endless hallucinations," Christian recalled. "It required her to remain in the hospital for several days, but then she seemed to reach a peak after which the hallucinations ceased entirely, as far as we know. If she had any others, apparently she didn't think they were worth mentioning. If you don't have anything she can use to ease these nightmares, we'll speak with him."

Rogan sighed again. "Aye, I agree...although it's early in the run to be askin' after some sort of relief. But if they're as bad as ye say, then ye'd better talk to uncle. Ye should keep in mind that whatever worked on Princess Margareta may not work on Princess Anna-Kristina, or it could have a whole different effect on her, good or bad."

"We'll keep that in mind," said Christian. "All right then, Kattersprinsessan, let's go to the main house and see what Mr. Roarke says. If it's this bad already, I can't imagine what worse hell lies in wait. Anyhow, Rogan, there's your latest update."

"Aye," he murmured and sighed. "Just remember, though—it all wears off after those first fifteen days, and ye'll never need the spice again."

"I've been trying to remember that," Anna-Kristina said with a game little smile, and they all chuckled softly. Christian and Leslie took Anna-Kristina out and drove over to the main house, where Leslie brought in a soundly sleeping Anastasia and settled her baby carrier on the floor beside the leather chair she sat in. Roarke listened to their account, then frowned a little, considering the problem.

"What was it you gave Magga?" Christian asked when a couple of minutes had elapsed and Roarke was still pondering. "Some sort of gas, if I recall correctly."

Roarke nodded. "A special anesthetic delivered by gas mask. It's only fractionally as strong as the tranquilizer I gave you for that tropical stink beetle last year, but most of the same ingredients are included in it. It wears off after approximately twelve hours, so it needs to be reapplied at regular intervals."

Christian's dubious look caught their attention, and Leslie asked, "What's wrong, my love? You look like you don't believe it."

"I don't," Christian said. "Not after what I was told about that insect spray. Just for curiosity's sake, Mr. Roarke, if you hadn't intervened and brought me back to consciousness after Julianne sprayed me instead of the intended target—how long would I have been out?"

"Approximately five days," Roarke told him, "give or take a few hours."

Christian's frozen gape didn't budge for long enough that Roarke turned to Anna-Kristina. "Should you in fact wish to go into a medically induced coma, you will have to remain in the hospital for the duration—not just because of the need for renewal of the anesthetic, but also so that you can be monitored for any adverse reactions, especially as regards the amakarna cure. It's entirely up to you, of course."

"Did Magga have any problems with it?" Anna-Kristina asked.

Leslie shook her head. "No, she was fine—but you have to remember, just because you're her sister, that doesn't mean you'll have the exact same reaction she did. There's some risk in it, no matter what you do. I know the nightmares have to be brutal, from what little you managed to tell us about them. But they might be preferable to some really nasty medical condition brought on by a bad clash between the anesthetic and the serum."

"How likely is this to happen, then?" Christian demanded, having evidently recovered from his disbelief over Roarke's little revelation. "There were two other people in the same trial with Magga who had the anesthetic applied to them as well. Did they suffer any adverse effects?"

"No," said Leslie with a one-shouldered shrug. "But remember, my love, everybody's different. In one of his very few chatty e-mails while we were in Lilla Jordsö waiting for Anastasia, Rogan told me three people had had problems when they tried to escape their severe hallucinations that way. Two in the third trial and one in the fourth."

"What happened to them?" Anna-Kristina asked.

"One kept going into convulsions, according to Rogan," Leslie said. "Another one had heart failure, more than once, and finally the doctors said they couldn't keep shocking him back to life and weren't going to use the anesthetic anymore. The other one turned out to be allergic to the anesthetic. So if you decide to go that route, those are just examples of what might happen to you. It's only fair to let you know."

Anna-Kristina sighed, looking deeply discouraged, and Leslie turned to Christian. "What if she requested medical records from her doctor in Lilla Jordsö—presumably Dr. Salomonsson at the castle?" she asked. "If she's ever had to be sedated for any reason, her records would reflect any problems or reactions, wouldn't they?"

Christian mulled it over for a moment or two. "I should think they would, and yes, it would be Dr. Salomonsson," he said with a nod. "Mr. Roarke, if you don't mind, we should call the castle, and Anna-Kristina and I will speak with the royal family's doctor there about getting transcripts of her medical records sent here, so that we can decide if it's medically advisable for her to take advantage of the anesthetic."

Roarke nodded. "Very well, by all means." He gestured at the phone, and Christian put the call through, asking in jordiska for the doctor's castle office and then giving Anna-Kristina the phone.

After several minutes of discussion, she turned to Christian. "He says that he can scan the papers in my record and then send them to you via e-mail attachment, if that's all right."

Christian nodded. "That'll be fine; then I can print them on this end. Tell him just to send anything that has to do with possible reactions, or lack thereof, to anesthesia."

She nodded and spoke into the phone, and Christian sighed gently. "Somehow it seems patently unfair, after a lifetime of being chained to that spice, for this serum to come burdened with so many terrible side effects. It's as if amakarna users haven't already suffered enough from having to take the spice every day."

"I understand, Christian," Roarke said, "but in cases like these, too often there are no alternatives. We did a good bit of experimentation at the LiSciola villa in Italy before returning here to the island and conducting further tests at Rogan's greenhouse. It so happened that the final mix of ingredients was the most effective." He studied Christian with a faint, knowing smile. "I have no doubt whatsoever that, were you yourself on amakarna, you would have chosen to take the cure without hesitation."

Christian's return smile was twisted. "I think perhaps you know me too well. Only another reason for me to thank the fates that I was born the youngest and thus not given the spice from infancy."

Anna-Kristina concluded the conversation then and hung up. "Well, the records are on their way. Dr. Salomonsson asks that we allow him an hour or so before you start looking for his e-mail."

Christian nodded and agreed, "Well enough." He tilted his left wrist to check his Rolex. "It's still early, not even ten yet. What now?"

"Maybe you could share another memory of a fantasy?" Anna-Kristina said hopefully.

Leslie and Roarke had just met each other's amused gazes when Julie came in, carrying a sheet of paper in one hand. She looked surprised to see them gathered around Roarke's desk as they were. "What's this, a caucus?"

"Not exactly. We're just trying to take some precautions to see if Anna-Kristina will be able to tolerate sedation while the amakarna serum is doing its job," said Leslie. "She just asked us to tell her about another fantasy we remember."

Julie grinned. "I've got one for you. What about Delphine and Greg's wedding? I was always sorry I had to miss it because I was cramming like a fiend for my final exams at college. But for years I wondered how in the world she broke the news to Greg that she had the MacNabb powers." She grinned at Christian's and Anna-Kristina's querulous looks. "Delphine is my older sister. She decided she wanted to have her wedding here on the island, but she had another reason for coming as well." Leaving them with that, she turned to Roarke. "If you're going to tell them about it now, could I listen in?"

Roarke laughed. "If you have the time to spare, Julie, by all means. Why don't you all make yourselves comfortable and we'll take a little time to entertain Princess Anna-Kristina; I suspect this will be merely another in a long string of recollections she'll ask us for while she's here. But don't worry, Your Highness—the reminiscences are quite enjoyable for us."

Anna-Kristina looked relieved. "I'm glad to hear that. I look forward to this. And just what do you mean by the MacNabb powers, anyhow?"

Julie grinned. "Let's sit down over here and I'll tell you all about it." She handed Roarke the paper she carried. "That's the latest room list, before we get caught up in storytelling and I forget to give you that."

When they had settled around the tea table and Leslie had placed the baby carrier with the slumbering infant atop its marble surface, Julie proceeded to explain the provenance of the MacNabb powers to a fascinated Anna-Kristina. "For years, Delphine got a kick out of using them to torture me when I was a kid. Then she moved out, and I had a few years of peace, till our parents died and she ended up becoming my guardian. I was in college when she met Greg, and for the first time she began to wonder if having the MacNabb powers was an asset or a liability. But this is where uncle and Leslie take over."

§ § § - April 11, 1981

The first person out of the seaplane's hatch was a casually dressed man with a shock of shiny black hair and square-rimmed glasses, grinning with anticipation. "He looks to me like a college professor," Tattoo commented as the new arrival turned back to the hatch to lend assistance to an equally cheerful dark-haired woman in a bright-pink dress.

"You could say that, Tattoo, yes," Roarke said. "Actually, Dr. Paul Todd is a paleontologist, from an eastern university."

Blankly Tattoo asked, "A paleonto-what?"

Leslie giggled. "Paleontologist," she repeated, drawing the word out a bit.

"He's concerned with the origins of life," Roarke explained, and Tattoo nodded comprehension. "The lovely young lady with him is his assistant, Miss Elizabeth Drake."

"What's his fantasy?" asked Tattoo.

"To find positive proof that a creature once existed on this earth that was neither man nor animal," Roarke replied.

Tattoo looked confused, glanced at Leslie, then ventured, "You mean, we're gonna help him find some kind of missing link?"

"What he's looking for is even more strange and mysterious than that, Tattoo," said Roarke. "Also considerably more dangerous."

"Animal, vegetable or mineral?" Leslie put in, half jokingly. But Roarke only offered one of those annoyingly mysterious smiles of his, and she made a face, then shifted her gaze to the plane dock as a movement there caught her attention. This time a young woman with a cap of straight pale-blonde hair, a delighted grin, and a yellow sundress stepped out; Roarke smiled broadly at sight of her, as if he recognized her. Leslie glanced at him and noticed his expression. "Who's that? You look like you know her."

"That young lady is Miss Delphine MacNabb," he said, as a somewhat older man got out behind her. "For the past three years, she has been part of a successful stage act, working as assistant to the Great Zachariah."

Tattoo and Leslie were both impressed. "The famous magician?" she exclaimed.

"Once I saw him make an elephant disappear," Tattoo put in.

"Indeed, Tattoo!" said Roarke with interest. "Recently the act has been playing Las Vegas, where Miss MacNabb met the young man you see with her, Mr. Greg Randolph, a hotel executive. Her fantasy is for them to be married on this island, where she was born."

"You mean she's a native of Fantasy Island?" asked Tattoo.

"Wow," murmured Leslie. "How lucky!"

Roarke grinned. "A descendant of one of our oldest families, Tattoo; her parents were dear friends of mine. Regrettably, I am not at all sure I can grant her fantasy; there are certain problems."

"Then what'd you let her come all this way for?" asked Tattoo.

"Because I could not find it in my heart to refuse her, Tattoo. You see, she happens to be my goddaughter." At that, Tattoo smiled broadly, and Leslie glanced between Roarke and Delphine MacNabb with surprised interest—and, admittedly, just a touch of jealousy. It startled her to feel that way; she'd had no idea Roarke had had godchildren, and she decided to refrain from asking questions, just so she could get the full story.

Roarke accepted his champagne flute and raised it in toast, and their guests beamed back, lifting their own drinks in return salute. Leslie caught it when he winked at Delphine MacNabb, and she winked right back, grinning as if she had a secret.