"So..." I say, laughing as I look at Dani, who's sitting next to me. "What are you in for?"

"You asking me?" Dani says. "God, I'm just so confused. I mean, I always knew my 'rents were wackjobs, but if that stuff about them being secret government scientists is true...you know, that would actually explain a lot."

"Like what?"

Dani glares at me, and I shut up. She then turns to the souls and asks, "So you guys are all dead? Well, I already knew Steve was dead, but the other two, I don't know you guys."

Freddie steps up to Dani and introduces himself, then Penny does the same before adding, "Yeah, we're officially dead and cremated...or I guess buried, in Steve's case. Do angels still insist on burials?"

"Yeah, I've already been buried back home in LA," Steve says.

"Uh-huh," Dani says, nodding. "And then Paul was the victim of a botched murder attempt by the same guy, who also happens to be Alex's father. Am I right so far?"

"Pretty much, yes," I say. "Wait, in that book you guys checked out, did it say the names of who was involved with Red Rain? Besides Elijah and Rector, I mean."

Freddie shakes his head. "Nobody else's names were mentioned. The book's information was pretty incomplete, anyway. So I'm gonna rely more on Mr. Smythe's explanation."

We stay silent for another few minutes. I look all around the room, taking a look at the wood-paneled walls, until the door opens up again - except it's too soon for Mr. Smythe to have possibly come back from picking up pizza.

It's actually his wife, who steps into the living room, sees Paul sitting there with his eye still bandaged, and then runs over to hug him.

"Mom, I'm okay," Paul says, giving her a quick embrace back before shaking her off gently. "Don't worry about me."

Mrs. Smythe lets Paul go, then looks around wildly. "Where's your father?"

"He's getting dinner," Paul says.

"Oh," Mrs. Smythe says. "Okay. I guess I'll...oh, hello, Steve, Freddie, Penny, Alex. What's going on now?" She looks at each of us, finally spotting Dani last. "We've never met before, have we? I'm Lana Smythe."

"Dani Cabrera," Dani says, shaking her hand.

"Short for Danielle, right?"

"Daniela, actually."

"Oh, I see," says Mrs. Smythe. "Well, I'm still...oh no. He didn't kill you too, did he? I thought he never went after more than one person at a time."

"You know about Elijah?" I ask.

"Of course I do," Mrs. Smythe says. "My husband's never kept me in the dark about his past. He knows he can trust me with his secrets."

"They told me if I didn't come here, I could be next to die," Dani says.

Mrs. Smythe sighs. "Hopefully not anymore. But from what I know, your parents must have been right all along."

"What do you mean?"

"Robert told me they always feared Elijah would escape, and so they packed up and moved to Earth as quickly as they could after their work ended."

Dani shudders. "I figured they were always on to something in some warped way. I mean, the way they..." Her voice trails off, and she sits back down, blushing heavily and biting her thumb.

"Okay..." Mrs. Smythe says. "I'll go take a shower, so I'll be back out in time for dinner, presumably. I guess you kids can just sit tight and wait, then." She leaves the room, and we once again find ourselves in another seemingly endless awkward-ass moment.

A few minutes later, Paul finally breaks the silence. "Is it true? That you used to live on Earth?"

Dani looks up, withdraws her thumb from her mouth. "Yeah. But I don't like to talk about it. It wasn't a pleasant experience."

She shoots another nasty look at me, as if I were the one asking about her life, not Paul. I guess Dani still hasn't quite forgiven me or Luca for trying to pry into her past.

"Well," I say, clapping my hands, "as long as we're all airing our secrets, I might as well go next. I'm dating a demon girl."

"That's not a secret, dude," Steve says, gesturing to himself and the other two souls. "We already know that about you."

"I already knew Dani's secret, too."

Dani snorts derisively. "You don't know the half of it."

"I didn't think so," I say.

"So do you got a better secret to tell us?" Penny asks.

I rub my left shoulder, briefly contemplating revealing my scars, but decide to go for something a little more humorous instead. Grinning stupidly, I say, "Elsa is my favorite Disney Princess."

This gets the reaction I expect - laughter, and bushels of it. As soon as Freddie can pause long enough to draw breath and talk again, he says, "Technically, Elsa's a queen, not a princess."

"Whatever," I say. "She has a killer voice, and I'd love to learn to use ice powers from an expert like herself."

"You guys saw Frozen?" Dani asks, trying not to burst out laughing again.

"Everyone saw that movie at some point," Paul says. "I'm not ashamed to say I went to see it in theaters when it first came out."

Dani shakes her head. "I've never seen it, period."

"Really?" I ask. "Not even once?"

"I don't do princesses," Dani says. "Or Disney in general, really. I rely on my own fantasies."

"You've been looking at the wrong Disney stuff, then," I say. "Maybe you should try out National Treasure. Or The Lone Ranger."

"Maybe," Dani says, "but really, I don't need movies to supply me with fantasies. I don't watch all that many movies, anyway. Or TV shows."

The front door opens again, and Mr. Smythe calls down the hall that he needs help carrying in the pizzas. It also turns out that in addition to getting some pies from Three Guys, he'd detoured back to Balthazar to pick up the luggage for Paul, Dani, and myself. Freddie carries the pizzas in while Mr. Smythe hands off duffel bags to us three live ones.

Dani and I turn out to have virtually identical black bags. I open the one that's handed to me and find inside a silver parka that I know isn't mine. I turn to Dani and she looks up at me, the sleeve of a blue-and-black flannel shirt hooked around her finger.

"You're holding my bag," we both say simultaneously.

We exchange bags, then look away from each other sheepishly while we examine the belongings that were packed for us.

Inside my bag, I have enough clothes to last me a week - which reminds me, I need to ask how long we're expecting to stay here in this cabin. I also have my usual toiletry bag - toothbrush, deodorant, etc. Also tucked in there are my iPod and book. Inside the book is a little note from Luca, who I'm guessing was the one who packed my bag.

"What the fucking hell is going on?" Luca's note reads.

"You and the rest of the world wanna know, buddy," I mutter as I put the book back in my bag. I wish he'd put my journal in there too, but it's pretty full to bursting as it is.

I join everyone else in the dining room for pizza - not knowing what everyone liked, Mr. Smythe simply ordered one each of plain cheese and sausage, both extra-large. While we eat, I ask about how long we're all going to be staying here.

"As long as it takes," Mr. Smythe says. "I don't anticipate it taking too long, though. My plan is to lure Elijah into a trap. He may be powerful in his own element, but Paul and I are land elementals, so we have the advantage."

"How so?" I ask.

"Mud," says Mr. Smythe. "The most effective known way to cut off a water elemental's powers. It's how they would keep him in check in prison."

I nod. "Okay. Note to self: never go near mud. And I assume you don't want any of us making contact with the outside world while we're here?"

"Correct," says Mr. Smythe. "It's too dangerous. I'm afraid you, Paul, and Miss Cabrera will have to let me hold on to your phones until it's safe for you to leave. You can give them to me after dinner, and I'll put them somewhere safe."

So much for answering Luca's message, I think.

When we're done eating, Mr. Smythe takes our phones as promised and carries them down the hall - I'm guessing to the master bedroom. Then he comes back and looks at us. "All right, so the sleeping arrangements...you'll still be staying in the Terminal, right?" he asks Steve.

I look at Steve questioningly, and he says, "That's the official name for the halfway house. Yeah, uh, and we should go back now, otherwise they might give our beds to someone else."

"Go ahead, then," says Mr. Smythe.

The souls say goodbye, then go downstairs. Mr. Smythe explains that the portal back to the Terminal, the halfway house, is in the basement.

"And now for our guests..." Mr. Smythe mutters under his breath. "This is just temporary, but as of tomorrow, our house is gonna get a little more crowded. I was talking with Jack while I was out, and he and I agreed we should fetch Aron as well tomorrow, along with the last demon consultants' child. Just because Elijah said he wanted to kill our firstborns doesn't mean he wouldn't settle for our younger children - especially if none of the firstborns were available for him to go after.

"So for tonight...Miss Cabrera, you can have the guest room upstairs, and Mr. Snow, you can bunk with Paul. Just in case Elijah somehow comes after us tonight, God forbid, you can all group together against him. You'll need every advantage you can get if you were to face him. Is that all right with everyone?"

I say nothing, just nod my approval and carry my bag upstairs, following behind Paul, with Dani bringing up the rear.

The top floor is tiny, containing only two bedrooms and a bathroom. The guest room where Dani will be sleeping is on the right-hand side of the landing, with Paul's room on the left. Inside, I see that Mr. Smythe meant it literally when he said I'd be bunking with Paul - on one side of the room, directly against the wall, is a bunk bed.

"You want top or bottom?" Paul asks. "Your call, guy."

I look at both bunks, each of which has different wall decorations. The top bunk has two posters - one of some football player in a red jersey, and the other of a glamorous girl with an oval face and wavy blond hair. With her brown eyebrows, she even reminds me a bit of Dani, but with much longer hair.

"That's Jennifer Lawrence, in case you were wondering," Paul says.

"Really?" I say, tilting my head. Oh yeah. Now I can see it. I'm much better at remembering names than faces. It's a good choice of poster girl, too.

The bottom bunk is decorated, not with posters, but with hand-drawn artwork. On the left are several comic-book characters, with Spider-Man getting pride of place - his drawing is in the center, and is so much bigger than all the others. On the right are characters I don't recognize from anywhere, but I'm guessing they're comic-book characters as well. All of them are very obviously not ordinary - one's a vampire with his fangs out, one's a half-transformed werewolf, stuff like that.

"I think I'll take the bottom bunk," I say.

Paul smiles. "That's usually my little brother's bed."

Dani walks in at this point, carrying a towel and her overnight bag. "Any of you guys gonna take a shower?" she asks.

"Lady first," Paul says. "Then Alex, then me. Okay with everyone?"

"Uh-huh," I say, nodding.

Dani nods as well, then walks into the bathroom.

Paul looks around at the alarm clock on the table in front of the TV. "Eight o'clock," he mutters. "Finally." He reaches up to his face and takes off the bandage, revealing his injured eye - red and surrounded by scar tissue, but still looking otherwise intact. He then tosses the bandage into the trash can by the door, and ducks out for a moment, raiding the linen closet for more towels.

"Damn, that still hurts," Paul says as he comes back in, tossing a beige towel at me. "I can't even look at anything without getting a splitting headache."

I put the towel aside as I sit on the lower bunk, taking a closer look at the artwork on the wall. "I didn't know you had a brother," I say, folding up one sagging corner of an Iron Man sketch.

"You might've seen him around once or twice," Paul says. "His name's Aron, he's a freshman this year. He's one of those kids who wears black all the time and looks hella depressed, but he's really anything but."

"Nope, I don't think I've ever seen him," I say.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Paul pick up a framed photo on the bedside table. He passes the photo to me, and I see a younger Paul, maybe twelve or so, kneeling on home plate in a green baseball uniform, while a smaller boy, clearly Aron, stands next to him, wearing a catcher's mask and a goofy gap-toothed grin. Aron looks like Paul in miniature, but his eyes are brown instead of blue.

"That's nice," I say, not sure how else I should put it.

Paul takes back the photo and puts it in its place before climbing into the bunk and sitting next to me. He gazes at his brother's work, a fond expression on his face.

"It's funny," he says. "Our parents are an academic and a foodie, and here's me and Aron, the athlete and the artist. There's no genetic precedence for either one of us, not in our family. And yet, here we are. If that's not proof of God's existence, I dunno what is."

"Intelligent design, huh? So what, you think God broke the mold with you and your brother?"

"I think He broke the mold with everyone," Paul says. "Everyone's a unique case. You, me, Aron, Dani, Luca, Juliet, Steve...we're all different. We all got different talents, we all shape the world around us in different ways."

I say nothing, just continue to look at the superheroes on the wall. Finally, I speak up again. "I see Aron's a big Spider-Fan, too."

"Never heard it put that way, but yeah, that sounds about right," Paul says. "Spidey's always been Aron's favorite."

"Mine too," I say. "All my favorites are the ones with great intellects. Batman, Iron Man, Professor X. But if I knew Spider-Man, he'd probably be my best friend." I take another look at the Spider-Man picture, so bright and lifelike. "What about you? Who's your favorite? No, wait, don't tell me - Wolverine."

"Wolverine's cool, yeah," Paul says. "But not really my favorite. That honor goes to Captain America." Paul points to Captain America's sketch, placed between Iron Man and Magneto - the one villain represented on the wall.

The thought pops into my head that Elijah Emery's involvement with Project Red Rain is basically a supervillain origin story. In the real world, military super-science experiments wouldn't simply involve pumping Steve Rogers full of serum to buff him out and make him the perfect soldier to win America the war. In the real world, it'd be a complete and utter crapshoot, with the scientists not really knowing what the hell they're doing. In the end, this crapshoot cost Elijah his powers, his freedom, his sound mind and body. I almost find myself feeling bad for the guy.

Almost. I have to remind myself he's been killing innocent people. Dexter Morgan my father is not.

I decide to change the subject. "Who are these guys, then?" I ask, pointing to the paranormal creatures on the other side of the wall.

Paul turns his attention to this side. "They're not comic-book characters," he says. "None that I know of, anyway. Aron's been hinting for the last year or so that he wanted to start work on his own graphic novel, but I've never seen him actually doing that."

"Maybe he just wants to wait until he's done before showing you," I say. "Gabe spent most of his freshman year trying to do just that, before he gave up and he finally showed me his failures before he trashed 'em. God bless him for trying, but Gabe can't draw a stick figure to save his life." I take a closer look at the vampire character. He's actually almost indistinguishable from a regular person, except for his fangs. He dresses like a regular guy, he isn't so deathly pale, and he's got ordinary-looking brown hair and eyes. "So these guys are Aron's original ideas?"

"I think so," Paul says. "But like I said, I've never seen any of his graphic novel work...if that's what he's been doing. I've got no reason to believe he isn't, though."

"If he ever needs any help writing the story," I say, "tell him to let me know."

"You write?"

"Spider-Man fanfic, mostly. And a journal. And a blog."

Paul smiles. "Everyone's gotta start somewhere."

"Alex?" Dani's out of the shower, and she calls down the hall to me. I turn around, pick up my towel, and carry it into the bathroom.

Ten minutes later, I'm out of the shower and in a new outfit. I carry my dirty clothes downstairs and leave them in a basket which Mr. Smythe has set aside in the laundry room for all his houseguests. While Paul's in the shower himself, I sit on Aron's bunk, reading Scarlet with Muse playing on my iPod.

Paul soon comes back in and puts the TV on. "One really good thing about getting to leave school early," he says. "I can catch up on some of the TV I missed during the week. You like The Flash?"

"Yeah. Sounds cool. Wanna bring Dani in? Maybe she'd like to watch too."

"No thanks," Dani says from her room, only about ten feet away. Paul and I look down the hall as she closes her door.

"Your loss, then," Paul calls back, closing our door as well and playing The Flash off the DVR.

We watch that show, then Arrow, before finally going to sleep. At first, I'm a bit scared to take my pants off like I normally do before bed - but Paul insists that it's okay, because his own idea of pj's is nothing but boxers.

"Okay, then, I guess," I say. "Just so long as I don't have to see you half-naked."

Laughing good-naturedly, Paul climbs down to the floor, already stripped down to his underwear, and sets the alarm clock.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone that comfortable with their body," I say.

"It's nothing you wouldn't have seen before," Paul says. His wings flap a bit as he pulls himself back into the top bunk. I've noticed that there's no ladder or anything - he's got serious upper body strength. I can see how he'd get all the girls, being a much more typically masculine specimen than I am. I only wish I could have that much muscle.

"If you want, you could take up weightlifting," Paul suggests. "We got a good setup at school. It's open to everyone. Not just the basketball team," he adds, chuckling.

"Maybe I'll look into that," I say. "Good night."

I fold my jeans up and lay them at the foot of the bed, then settle in for the night.

Or, more accurately, for about a third of the night.

A few minutes before one, according to the alarm clock, I wake up to hear a faint noise. It sounds like someone crying, but I can't be sure.

Over my head, Paul rustles around in his bunk, then whispers, "Dude, you hear that?"

"Yeah," I whisper back, creeping over to the bedroom door. I open it just a tad and the sound becomes clearer. It's coming from down the hall, where Dani's sleeping.

I tiptoe back to the bunk, grab my pants, and put them on.

"Is that Dani?" Paul asks.

"It is," I whisper. "I'm gonna go see what's wrong."

Paul reaches for his T-shirt. "Want me to come with you?"

"No, I got this. Go back to sleep."

I walk down the short hall, feeling increasingly nervous with each step. I could just ignore Dani - that would probably be an easier, more convenient course of action for both of us. But if I did, I would probably hate myself forever for just letting her stew in whatever sad funk she'd gotten herself into. Deciding that it's worth it to risk embarrassment for both of us, I tap lightly on her door and call her name.

"Dani? Are you all right?"

Dani sniffles and whispers, "Go away."

"Seriously, are you okay?"

"Please leave me alone," she says, following it up with a high-pitched squeak.

I roll my eyes. What is with this girl? She so clearly needs help and won't accept any.

Well, too bad. I'm not going back to bed unless I'm absolutely sure there's nothing I can do for her.

I open the door and see Dani sitting on her pillow, fully dressed, her arms around her knees. She glares at me, but her angry expression is softened by the tears on her cheeks, which reflect the moonlight coming in through the window. It's a beautifully depressing sight.

"I dunno if I should be charmed or pissed right now," Dani says.

I shrug, leaning against the doorjamb. "I'm only being nice. You gonna hate me for caring about you?"

"Why do you care?" Dani grumbles.

"I just wanna know what's wrong. Is that a crime now?"

Dani wipes her face. "No. Well, maybe. I...I've just got way too much shit on my mind right now."

I reach out and gently take Dani's hand. "I think I know the feeling. Look, if you don't talk about it to someone, you'll just feel worse and worse. I'll listen to you. Hell, if Luca were here, he'd listen too. He really likes you, you know? He thinks you're the coolest girl ever."

Dani sniffles, and I pull away as she wipes her face again. Then she mutters something that I can't quite hear.

"What did you say?" I ask. "Speak up."

"I'm not." Dani's voice comes out soft, scared, childlike.

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself-"

"Really, I'm not the coolest girl ever," she says. "Because..." She swallows, looking so nervous that I really want to hug her. When she finally speaks up again, it becomes clear why.

"I'm not a girl."