Mr. Smythe says he's gonna go back to the bookstore to talk with Mr. Darknell again, and in the meantime, we get to mix and mingle with each other, like it's any ordinary day.

The basement proves to be way too small to handle everyone's presence at once, so I go upstairs to the living room, with Aron and Paul following me. Dani and Jeanne emerge soon after, then Gabe. I hear Fionna chattering animatedly with the souls, so I guess she'll be staying down there for a while.

Just as well, then. I want to be alone with her at some point.

Feeling suddenly crowded as Jeanne and the Smythe brothers settle onto the loveseats, I get up and step outside into a chilly, misty afternoon. Sitting on a tree stump, I turn on the garden hose and spray a small arc into the air, trying to freeze it before it lands. It doesn't really work - it usually doesn't unless there's a large source of water at hand, like a river or a lake.

"Hey, bro." I look up and turn around, seeing Gabe walking up to me, his hands in his pockets.

"What's up?" I ask, shutting the hose off. "I take it you've heard the latest developments."

Gabe looks around before finding a tree to lean against. "Just...yeah. Our dad - not Ross, our sperm donor - being confirmed to be the same guy who got his shit fucked up with Red Rain, yada yada. So it's true? The Aqua Killer really is our dad?"

I nod, my lips itching to curl up. "And he looks exactly like you."

"You mean, I look like him," Gabe says. "He came first, unfortunately. What was he like?"

"Tall, blond, and Southern," I say. "Not sure if that matters or not, but he did have an accent. And he was scary. He just didn't have any emotion at all."

"Isn't that, like, the first requirement of a serial killer? Being emotionless?"

"Does he even count as a serial killer?" I ask. "Sure, there's the thing about him going after all the firstborns, but I thought serial killers always took out their victims the exact same way. Like some kind of ritual."

"I've heard things about 'disorganized' killers," Gabe says. "Killers with no pattern, so they're harder to catch."

"Terrifying," I say. "And you know, now I'm starting to wonder...if he can swim through the pipes, does he have to go naked? Can he only bring organic material with him, like in Terminator?"

We both shudder at the thought of our killer dad skinny-dipping in people's plumbing.

"You wanna go back inside?" I ask, shivering as the breeze picks up, driving more mist in my face.

Gabe, who's facing downwind, isn't as strongly affected, but he agrees to follow me back into the cabin. Inside, we find Fionna sitting all by herself on a loveseat.

"Hey, guys," she says, perking up as she hears us approach. "Where've you been?"

"Outside, processing things," I say. "It's not every day you learn your biological dad's trying to kill your friends."

"I dunno about the others, but I promise I won't hold that against you," Fionna says, laughing.

We chuckle along with her, then Gabe mutters something about needing to take a piss. Taking my cue, I direct him upstairs, and sit down next to Fionna, sighing heavily.

"You all right, Feathers?" Fionna asks, holding my hand. It's probably just because she's a fire elemental, but her hands are always at least warm, if not hot.

"Yeah," I say idly before Fionna's question really has a chance to register in my brain. "Ehh, not really. I..." I turn to my left so I can look her in the eye. Her eyes are so very pretty. I could look at them forever. "I...uh..." Why can't I just spit it out?

Her face twitches as she frowns slightly. "It's all right. I'm seeing it in your thoughts anyway."

"You mean how my bio dad wants to kill you?"

"You say that like there's a chance he will." She reaches up to the top of my head and strokes my hair. "But he's not you, and he's not Gabe. I love you both too much for you to be evil." She kisses the side of my neck. "Especially you."

I chuckle, feeling unusually giddy now that this particular burden is off my back. "I promise I'm not evil."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"I wanna kiss you," I tell her. "Can I?"

"You don't gotta tell me twice," she says as she obliges my request.

All I can sense is Fionna, one of her hands in mine and the other getting tangled in my overgrown hair. Her mouth presses firmly against mine, then pulls at my lower lip.

All I can think is that her breath tastes warm and spicy, like the cinnamon toothpaste I loved so much when we first tried it out when I was twelve, but never got to try again because Gabe and Mom had hated it.

All I can feel are my wings beating madly, straining to get out of my shirt, matching my accelerating heartbeat and how much I want Fionna. I pull her closer to me, slowing the kiss down at my end so I can savor it better.

"Whoa! PDA alert!"

Fionna and I pull apart quickly, almost falling over the arms of the loveseat in the process. I turn around and see Aron Smythe standing at the foot of the stairs, his hand over his eyes.

"Is it safe to look now?" he asks, peeking out through splayed fingers.

I look at Fionna, then back at Aron. "Yeah, it's safe, little dude."

Aron rolls his eyes and brushes his long dark hair out of his face. "You know, little brothers always end up taller than their big brothers. I just got a lot of catching up to do."

"I can see that," I say. It's true - Aron doesn't look much bigger than five foot three. Then again, he's only fourteen. I was a shrimp at his age, and so was Gabe - though you'd be hard-pressed to get him to admit to it today.

"Whatever," Aron says, waving his hand. "I'm gonna go cook up some pizza rolls. You guys want any? After you're done making out, that is."

"I think we're done, yeah," Fionna says.

"Nothing like a loud-mouthed freshman to kill the mood," I chuckle.

Aron rolls his eyes again and moves forward. I punch his arm as he walks by me. "Hey, I'm just messing with you, dude. Don't worry."

"I know," Aron says, stepping into the kitchen. "To be fair, though, so was I."

Paul appears at the bottom of the stairs too. "Um, please tell me he hasn't fired up the oven yet," he says.

"I can handle it!" Aron yells. "I've seen Mom do it a hundred times."

"I said I'd take care of it, Aron," Paul says. "Are you sure you don't need my help?"

"Yes! I'm very sure!"

Paul rolls his eyes, looking so much like Aron in the process that I do a double take.

"You were right," I say. "He's a good kid."

Aron pokes his head back into the living room. "What have you told him?"

Paul laughs. "Not much. I just showed him your fan-art."

"What?" Aron groans, slapping his forehead. "Oh God, no. Why? That's so embarrassing, dude."

"What's to be embarrassed about?" I ask. "Those drawings were awesome. Especially Spider-Man - Paul tells me he's your favorite too."

"Well, that's real nice," Aron says, his tone aggrieved, "but I don't think Paul mentioned that I made those drawings when I was nine." He retreats back into the kitchen, blushing.

My eyes go wide. "But those were so bloody good. You must be supernaturally gifted if you could've made those at nine." I turn to Paul. "He's telling the truth, right?"

"Oh yeah," Paul says. He turns to the kitchen door and adds, "I just wish I could see the stuff you make today, little bro. Why don't you show people? They'd love it."

"What fan-art are we talking about?" Fionna asks. "I gotta see this for myself."

She leads the way upstairs, and then Paul shows us the Wall of Superheroes again.

"Oh wow," Fionna says, marveling at the sight. "These are beautiful. Where'd your brother learn to draw like this?"

"Self-taught," Paul says.

"Who are these guys?" Fionna asks, pointing to the array of original characters.

Paul explains these, then adds that they were not, in fact, created when Aron was nine. "More like when he was twelve," he says. "Look, they're so much better than the comic-book guys. You can see all this detail in their faces and stuff, see?"

"Don't you think this one's hot like me?" I chuckle, pointing to the vampire.

"You must be blind, Feathers," Fionna laughs. "He's a vampire, he's nothing like you!"

Downstairs, a loud metallic clang echoes up to us. "Sounds like Aron's making a mess," Paul says. "I'll just go down and see if he..." His voice trails off as he leaves the room.

"He actually does look a lot like you," Fionna says.

"Thanks for the honesty," I say.

"Likewise, my love," she says in a cringe-worthy phony British accent as we follow Paul downstairs.