***ALEX***

"Thought we'd be watching a movie right about now."

I grin at AK. "Nah, we'd have been done with the movie by now, and maybe gone down into the mall to find some lunch."

"Pizza?"

Khan shakes her head at us. "You boys are such Americans. If you want good food at Maguire, go to Savera. They make the best biryani you'll ever eat."

"Duly noted." And in my head, I leave a note to self: find out what biryani is, because I've never heard of it, but it sounds delicious. And like something Mom would never want to eat, especially if it's too spicy. Mom's got a low tolerance for spice. She won't even eat pepperoni pizza. Oh well. More for me and Gabe, historically, even if we'd pay a price for it later by wrecking our insides. Worth it, though. Pizza usually is. Okay, make that "always is."

"So who are you working for?" We hear Sanchez talking over an intercom as he and Moss sit across a table from Firdaus and Ahmad in the interrogation room. I hate to think of it that way, but is there any other way to describe it? I watch so many cop shows, and none of them really have a fluffier and/or more politically correct term for the interrogation room. Even when, technically, this isn't even an interrogation Sanchez is conducting. Firdaus and Ahmad may have been caught in a compromising position, but they're not under arrest or anything. Not officially. I hope.

"I, uh..." Ahmad taps his fingers on the tabletop. Didn't he ask earlier if he could have a cigarette? He looks like the kind of guy who overdoes it on the chemical stimulants enough as it is, but he also looks more like the kind of guy whose stimulant of choice would be a can or two of Red Bull every couple of hours. Or whatever it is that's IT types' drug of choice these days. I should ask Marco - he's majoring in computer science at Cypress College in San Jose. Though I'm pretty sure that, being Italian, he sticks with coffee over all others.

I'm only assuming Ahmad's into IT based on the wires he and Firdaus were carrying. The blue ones. They looked like old-fashioned internet wires, the kind that used to connect from our home modem directly to a desktop, back when Mom had only a desktop and we had no Wi-Fi. How I remember that, I'm not sure - I think Gabe and I were seven when Mom upgraded to Wi-Fi. She's always been a little behind the curve on technology. We still don't have Blu-Ray. Or Netflix, even. I still have to borrow Luca's Netflix login on all my devices.

"It's all right, man." Moss slides a cup of coffee across the table. "Take your time. We got plenty of it."

I'm not sure which one of our new friends wants the coffee more - Ahmad, or Firdaus. She eyeballs the cup, then him, and he glares at her while tentatively reaching for it himself, only to stop short and pull his hands back. "You can have it," he says. "It's decaf."

Firdaus closes her eyes, sticks her nose up, and primps her hair, looking like a snooty sophisticate. But she takes the coffee anyway. "Unlike you," she says, "I actually enjoy this stuff for its flavor. Though all other coffee is weaksauce compared to the stuff you can get in an Arab home."

"It's caramel-flavored too," Moss adds.

Ahmad grimaces at the thought, as do I, but Firdaus responds by taking a huge sip.

"Speaking of home..." Sanchez pauses, waiting for Firdaus to finish. She swirls the coffee around her mouth for a moment, then nods, keeping up that connoisseur look. (Or, if you want to get into the ways the French language works with gender, connoisseuse. Yes, that's a word. Google it if you don't believe me.) "Where do you guys call home?"

"You mean for now, or where did we come from?" asks Ahmad.

"The latter," says Sanchez.

"Is it Hell?" asks Moss.

Bennet, who's standing to Khan's left, actually pounds the Plexiglas with his fist. "Doesn't he know how rude that is, just jumping in with a question like that?"

"I did it to you when we first met, remember?" Khan's cheeks redden.

"What makes you think we're from Hell?" asks Firdaus.

"Your wings don't show," says Sanchez.

It's true. I tend to overlook the sight of wings bulging under the backs of people's shirts, jackets, etc. myself. But when it's brought to my attention, then I really notice. Like now - I'm remembering how our first glimpse of Ahmad and Firdaus today was from behind. No wing bulges around their shoulders. Demons, or humans? Or something else, possibly? We haven't met any aliens yet. Or vampires. Or werewolves. But they could be just around the corner.

"Refrain from assuming," Ahmad laughs nervously.

Firdaus takes another sip of coffee. "It's actually too sweet, but...it's caramel." She pronounces it "Karamel," like the Supergirl ship. "But to answer your question, we're not demons. We're..." She pauses for a moment, looking unsure of herself, but then presses on. "We're humans."

"Humans," Moss repeats loudly. "Got it."

"What, you're not surprised?" asks Firdaus.

"Not as much as we should be, I guess," says Sanchez. "So...humans. How'd you get to Heaven? And how'd you find out about this place?"

"Because Josh brought us here," says Firdaus.

"Josh..."

"Graziadei," supplies Ahmad.

There's that name again. Sorta Italian, sorta Latin, unambiguously translating as "thanks be to God." But he's not the same Graziadei they were talking about earlier, were they?

"Sorry?"

I look up at AK, startled, until I realize I spoke out loud. "They referred to that Josh dude by his first name, not his last. That makes me think he and that other Graziadei are two different people."

Khan gives a concurrent nod. "Probably."

"By any chance do you have a picture of this Josh Graziadei?" asks Sanchez.

"Yes..." Firdaus passes her phone across the table.

"You mind if I send this to myself?" Sanchez asks after looking at the pic for a moment.

She and Ahmad shake their heads. Moss, meanwhile, looks at the screen while Sanchez texts himself the picture, then forwards it to Khan and Bennet. Bennet then shows it to me and AK. "Look familiar?"

AK and I lean in close to Bennet's screen. The guy on the cover looks close to our age, or maybe early twenties. He looks like a more attractive version of me - or, more hopefully, what I'll eventually look like when I hit my peak post-high school. Brown skin (darker and richer in tone than my greenish olive), deeper brown eyes, sharp cheekbones, square jaw covered in about two days' worth of scruff, and black hair looking like mine this time last year, when I still hadn't cut it in forever and couldn't style it because it was just curly enough to be virtually unmanageable. Though I get the feeling that he doesn't have to deal with acne the way I did when I grew my bangs out.

"Are we sure this is that Josh Graziadei guy?" AK asks. "Because he almost looks like-"

I've got the same thought in mind. "Tyler Posey?"

Khan, who's looking over our shoulders, smiles at the sound of that name. "Posey, like Buster?"

Oh, she's thinking of the San Francisco Giant. "No relation," I say. "He's an actor, and Josh kinda looks like him."

"Even more than you do," says AK. "You ever consider cosplaying as him?"

I take off my hoodie and pull up my left shirt sleeve, revealing a pair of black ink bands wrapping around my upper arm. "I've got a nice start, don't I?"

He pokes the skin on my arm a couple of times. Probably examining not only the tattoo, but also the old scars that the ink partially covers. The first time I'd attempted to get this tattoo, I'd pulled away from Mrs. Jackson at the last second, earning myself a long ink-scar that hurt like bloody hell. It was about a month before I finally got the chance to have that mistake lasered off - Mrs. Jackson having recently acquired a new piece of Hellish tech that let her do it instantly, not in multiple sessions the old-fashioned way - and another month before my skin healed enough that I could get the tattoo for real and forever. I'd probably have gotten it done sooner, but I had to wait a month because cutting class to help my friends with the Black Mirror had gotten me temporarily banned from leaving school grounds.

At least I'd taken that time to consider what I really wanted. My old scars, they were one of my last remaining physical links with Gabe. He and I agreed that inking up would help us let go of each other. I don't think it's really worked, though, considering we've still been sharing dreams.

Then again, I never stopped sharing dreams with Fionna, even after we both started seeing other people.

At this point, I don't think I can let go of either of them. Not completely. But as long as I'm still functioning in society (as much as I can with increasing anxiety and possible depression), I think I'm good.

"...don't you think?" AK waves his hands in front of my face. "Alex? Alex, you there?"

"Huh?" I jump back, blinking rapidly, then shake my head. "Sorry. I was kinda lost in my thoughts. It happens."

"I was...well, I was just saying you're not the only one using tattoos for celeb cosplay." He tilts his head towards the two-way glass. "Ahmad there, he's got all that ink on his arms...he could pass for Zayn if he wanted. Though he needs some leather jackets. And rock-n-roll tees-"

"I could supply him with those-"

"And a nose ring."

I do a double take. "Zayn has a nose ring?"

"What, you didn't know that?"

"No...but I'll take your word for it." I look again at the picture of Josh. "I don't think I've met this guy, though."

"Would you have?" asks AK.

"Maybe. Or if I did, I would've already forgotten about it." I scratch my head. "At least we know we've got another fanboy friend to think about now."

"Haha, what if Josh has the same tattoo you do?" AK laughs. "Fanboys unite!"

"How is it you have a tattoo?" Khan asks me. "Aren't you..."

"Underage? Only in Heaven."

"Yeah, seventeen is legal age in Hell," Bennet points out for those not in the know. "So, what, you popped on across the Bridge somewhere to get that? Let me guess-"

"Coldfire Creek. I go to school there."

Bennet clicks his tongue. "Thought so. Good choice too. Nothing fancy, but just edgy enough to be rebellious. Bet your mom and dad didn't like that, did they?"

"My mom doesn't mind."

"What about your dad?"

I can't stop a glare flashing across my face for a split second, and in any case, whatever autism-induced psychic blocks I've got spike up enough to make Bennet back off without another word.

"...never seen him, though?" I hear Sanchez ask.

"No, no, no, of course we have," says Firdaus. "Josh brought us to Heaven in the first place."

"At the same time, or separately?"

"He found us separately," says Ahmad, "but we came to Heaven with Josh together."

"Mm-hmm..." Sanchez keeps on taking notes. "Do you mind me asking how he found you both? Was he, uh, specifically looking for people with your skill sets?"

Firdaus scoffs. "I'm not even sure what my quote-unquote 'skill set' would be, unless you count useless pop-culture knowledge."

"'Useless?'" AK and I repeat simultaneously.

"She's not serious!" I laugh, even though I know she can't hear me, and neither can Sanchez or Moss. "Pop-culture knowledge is one of the greatest weapons a fighter can have!"

"I know!" Bennet wags his finger at Khan. "But you would never agree with me, would you, Shanza?"

"How many times have I told you not to use my first name?" Khan gripes.

"Oh, sorry, sorry..." Bennet does a facepalm. "Sorry. My mistake."

"And what exactly are your plans in Heaven?" Moss plays it casual, like he's a customs agent at the airport.

"That, we're not entirely 100% sure on..." Ahmad's voice trails off in a way that could almost pass for a kind of dramatic pause.

"But it has something to do with that kid you've got tagging along with you," says Firdaus.

Sanchez looks at us through the glass. Not that he can actually see us - and aren't all the cops supposed to pretend that glass really is just a mirror? "Which one?" he asks.

"The tall, dark one," says Firdaus. "What was his name...uh...Alex Snow."

Yep, God's got my name in His little black book, that's for sure. Why do I get the feeling He's going to walk in any moment now-

"Excuse me?" My heart stops at the sight of none other than Josh Graziadei himself poking his head through the door. "I'm looking for Firdaus Sayid and Ahmad Pirzada...oh, there they are." He steps in between me and AK, peering through the window at his friends. For a mysterious guy who may or may not be linked to the next great conspiracy, he looks pretty unassuming, aside from being only a hair shorter than I am. His clothes, though, look designed for maximum invisibility without the aid of a certain Deathly Hallow. Collared shirt peeking out from under a wool sweater (which smells faintly of rainwater - oh wait, no, I'm smelling the coat he's got folded over his arm), and also khakis. It's an outfit that makes him look a little like Barry Allen and Cisco Ramon's love child. "Tell me you guys didn't arrest them," he says to Khan.

Bennet pouts, as if wondering why Josh isn't looking at him like he's the one in charge, even though it's so obvious he's not.

"We didn't," Khan assures him.

"Good. Then they're free to go whenever, right?"

"Well, it's not so simple," Khan says. "I mean, they've admitted they're not Heavenly citizens, so they're kinda here illegally-"

"See, I was under the impression the whole Bay Area was cool with illegal immigrants being around, unless they were causing trouble." Josh drums his fingers against the glass, momentarily attracting the attention of all on the other side. "Or was that just in the city?"

"Uh..." Khan blushes.

"Never mind." Josh straightens up and claps his hands. "Okay, so if you're gonna let my friends go, I'll take them with me. Oh, and I'd like to bring these two with me as well." He gestures to me and AK both.

"Me too?" AK asks. "Really?"

"Yes, really. You're a witness, so you'll be just as important as any other associate of mine."

AK's eyes widen. "Wait, I'm already an associate of yours? Do I...uh, do I get business cards and benefits and shit?"

Josh bites his lip for a moment. "That depends. Are you an adult?"

AK glances over to me. "I...well, if you want me to be-"

"The truth, dude."

AK sighs. "Yeah, I'm an adult."

"Well, I can't offer you any benefits or pay, but business cards aren't totally off the table." Josh does a flourish towards the door. "We gotta get going, though. Quickly."

I bristle. "Going where?"

"If I waste time saying, we might get caught."

"Caught by whom?" asks Bennet.

"You don't wanna know, trust me." Josh opens the door. "Let's just say that they're responsible for that truck crash you guys are investigating."

"So you're saying..." Bennet begins.

Khan picks up after his voice trails off. "Scoville's after you?"

"Oh, good, you confirmed that they're involved." Josh leaves the room and heads down the hall, where he opens the door into the interrogation room and waves to Firdaus and Ahmad. "It's not just Scoville you gotta watch out for!" he calls into the viewing room. "Oh, and by the way," he says to Moss and Sanchez, "why are you putting my friends in here? Couldn't you at least interview them in the break room or something?"

Sanchez scratches his head.

"I don't wanna cry 'racist,'" Josh adds, "but unless you gave the same treatment to the boys in the other room..."

"The boys in the other room had local ID," says Moss as he blushes, Weasley-like, furiously and to the roots of his hair. "And we found them doing something less incriminating-"

"Come on, man, don't start making excuses," Sanchez says. "Ahmad, Firdaus, I guess we're done here. You can go."

Firdaus rises from her seat slowly and nods politely, while Ahmad scrambles out the door, almost bowling Josh over. As he passes by the open door to the viewing room, we hear him call back, "Finally, I can get a fucking smoke!"

I'm about to follow AK out the door myself when Khan grabs my arm, making me gasp and jump an inch or two away from her. "Listen, if you need any help from any of us..." She takes a business card from her wallet and passes it to me, as does Bennet. "And make sure your friend gets these numbers too."

"Okay..." I stare at the card as I walk out the door, and almost walk into Josh as a result.

"You all right, Alex?" He stands back from me, then reaches out to dust off some imaginary particles on my shoulder.

"Uh...yeah." My voice comes out unusually flat and low. "Yeah, I'm...I'm good."

"You sure?"

I follow him, with Firdaus right behind me and AK behind her. "I'm sure I'm gonna regret asking this, but...what's going on? Why do I need to go with you?"

"If you don't, my father might..." Josh sighs, then swallows as we start climbing the stairs back to ground level. "No point beating around the bush. My father's got you marked."

"'Marked?'" AK repeats.

"What, like, targeted for termination?" I ask. Paling just a bit, Josh nods. "Why? What'd I do this time? Besides exist, I mean."

Josh waits for the automatic doors to open and let us out. Probably because there are four of us, it takes the sensors a little longer to pick up on our presence. "That's just it, really. Peppermint wants you and what you know, and my father's hired out Scoville to subtract you from the equation...but, you know, there's more to it than..." He stops talking as he spots Ahmad leaning against a pillar on the edge of the entryway, barely shielded from the wind and rain still pounding the outside as he puffs on a smoke. "Shit, haven't I asked him enough times to quit?"

"You can't get him to do it," Firdaus says dryly. "He tells me I'm an addict, but he's worse, if anything."

AK sniffs the air, and now I'm picking up on it too - a really sharp stench borne on the wind. I remember smelling something similar when I was in elementary school - an old friend from back then, he once brought in a big magnifying glass for show and tell, and at recess, he went out on the field and used it to focus the sunlight and burn a pretty good patch of grass. The smell he made, it reminds me strongly of that coming from Ahmad's cigarette.

"Funny you should think about that," says Josh, "given how in some languages, the words for 'grass' and 'herb' are pretty much the same. Herbe, yerba..."

"Wait, are you saying he's smoking weed?" I ask.

AK shakes his head. "I'm from Oregon. I know what weed smells like. That ain't it."

"it's a clove cigarette," says Ahmad in between puffs. "Like what actors use when they're on set."

"Or Adrian Ivashkov," I say.

Josh laughs into his hand. "Sorry," he says when we all look at him funny for it, "but...it's not every day I see someone who knows that. Remind me, did they keep making more Vampire Academy movies in Heaven, or was it in Hell?"

"Shit, I dunno. Ask my brother." I watch as Ahmad drops the cigarette butt into a tall, narrow plastic disposal unit that looks like someone made a knockoff hookah. "So where are we going to get away from your father?" I ask Josh. "'Cause if he's really out to ice me - and I would not be surprised if that were the case - then the further, the better. And..." I wring my hands. "Can we...can we find some way to make sure my mom's safe? A-and my friends too?"

"I wish I could say I've got people on it right now," Josh says, "but unfortunately, you're looking at all my people." He gestures to Ahmad and Firdaus, then adds, "Those I can spare in this 'verse, anyway."

"And in the meantime," I ask, "where are we going?"

"Somewhere it's gonna be hard for us to get located." Josh puts his coat on and starts walking through the rain towards the BART station. "Underground, and en route to the city. Don't worry, we'll be blending in with the tourists soon enough."

I shrug, then pull my hood up before following him. "Right. Don't worry. Because a near-perfect stranger said so."