Well. Well, well, well. I didn't expect that at all. Way to throw me for a loop, Steve.

I go light-headed for a moment, I'm so surprised. The next thing I know, I'm looking up at the sky, and my head is resting on some warm, solid surface. I turn to my left and find my face half-buried in Fionna's stomach - the surface supporting my head turns out to be her lap. As comfy as her lap is, I rise up as fast as I can, ignoring the resulting painful head rush.

"What happened?" I whisper to her. "I think I might have blacked out for a second."

"I'll say," says Fionna. "How else would I explain the fact that you just now dropped a rare Alex Snow F-bomb?"

"How do you know I...?" I begin, before the thought pops into my head and Fionna and I invoke the name of my twin together.

I turn to Steve, Freddie, and Penny, who are bunched together next to Fionna. "Well, apparently I might have already said this, but Steve...What. The. Fuck?"

"I'm not saying you're the Aqua Killer," Steve says, backpedaling. "I mean, sure, you're a great water elemental, but not that great. And you don't have any demon powers, right? Even though your brother is a demon."

"No, I don't have demon powers!" I yell with more force than is necessary.

"We're not saying you do," Freddie says, holding up his hands. "Steve, I told you this was a stupid idea. I mean, lots of people have gray eyes."

"Not really," Steve says.

"But who says the ones we saw were Alex's? Or his brother's?"

The thought of Steve accusing Gabe next enters my head and sets my blood boiling. "If you start telling lies about my brother, I swear I'll take your head and-"

Steve turns to me, frowning deeply and holding his hand up to partially cover the scar around his neck.

"Yeah, that was uncalled for. I'm sorry."

Steve waves my apology aside. "I know it couldn't have been you or your brother, Snow," he says. "You guys aren't killers. You don't have it in you."

"Should I be offended or praised by that statement?" I ask Fionna.

"Don't ask me."

Steve pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket and unfolds it. "Here, look at this," he says, giving Fionna and me the paper. "First opportunity I could after I died, I re-drew the Aqua Killer's eyes from memory. It helped me figure out where I'd seen eyes like those before."

Fionna and I glance down at the drawing. Steve wasn't kidding - these eyes really do look kinda familiar. They're practically the exact shape and color of my eyes - and Gabe's.

"So, if it's not you, or Gabe..." Fionna mutters. "Maybe a cousin? Which side of the family did you guys get your eyes from?"

"Not my mom's, I don't think," I say. "She's got hazel eyes. So do most of her relatives."

"Then your dad? What about him?"

I stay silent. My mind has already gone there, and with my severely limited knowledge about this half of my family, I have no idea what to think.

Gabe and I have grown up our entire lives without ever knowing who our actual, biological father is. Obviously we have one somewhere, but we've never actually met him. According to Mom, she'd actually been engaged to a man named Ross Whelan, an angel, but for whatever reason, they couldn't have children together. So Mom, desperate to get around this problem, convinced Ross that they should try artificial insemination. It worked, and Mom got pregnant with Gabe and me.

But there was a catch. Normally, these kinds of places have impeccable quality control, but in a one-in-a-billion mistake, Mom managed to get impregnated with some kind of mixed sperm containing samples from an angel and a demon. (Or, more likely, one guy who, like us, was a hybrid himself. We've agreed that because Gabe and I have those same eyes, that should mean we also have the same father.) She didn't find out until she was six months along - a routine ultrasound showed that only one of us had developed fuzzy baby-bird down on his wings, like we were both supposed to have done.

Luckily for us, she was totally fine with it - as long as her twin boys each had two wings, ten fingers and ten toes, she didn't mind.

Guess who did mind. Very much.

Mom told us that Ross had been so against the idea of raising a demon son that he'd told her she should sue the fertility clinic and have an abortion. She wouldn't do either, believing there would be no point. Besides, Mom being Catholic, an abortion was unthinkable to her. So she told him, in no uncertain terms, to kindly fuck off. Ross therefore packed his bags and left with only two months to go before Gabe and I were born.

Eventually, he came back into our lives. He started doing what all absentee dads seem required by law to do - even though he wasn't really our dad. He'd send Mom money for child support (with his high-paying job at some Silicon Valley tech company, he could definitely afford it.) He'd even come up to Spellman every so often and take Gabe and me to dinner and a movie, or to Great America, or some other fun father-son-type thing. Mom always told us that he was an old work friend of hers, but that didn't explain why she seemed so unwilling to be in the same room as him for any length of time. Or why she always discouraged us from calling or talking to him, except for those days he came to visit.

The truth of the matter was told to us on our thirteenth birthday, at Gabe's demand.

It's hard to believe, especially for those who haven't known us very long (in other words, basically everyone we've ever met in Coldfire Creek), but over the years, Gabe and I have gradually swapped personalities - I used to be the fun one while Gabe was always moody and broody. Being a different species from all the others in our class meant he was repeatedly picked on. His developing sexuality also made him a target, especially as we entered our teens and people began noticing that Gabe seemed more inclined to check out guys' chests than girls'. In a shining example of razor-sharp early-adolescent bully wit, "Gay Snow" was a pretty common nickname for him back then.

After a particularly rough day - Gabe having gotten a lovely birthday beatdown, and I having jumped in to defend him and gotten my ass spectacularly kicked as well - Gabe demanded that Mom finally tell us about our father.

She'd tried her damnedest to not tell. She could see that we'd suffered enough for a good long while, and didn't want to add to our problems.

But Gabe kept pushing until she finally caved.

The end result? We spent the rest of our thirteenth birthday lying in our beds, staring at the ceiling, and trying to hide our tears.

The memory of that awful night causes me to start crying afresh. I put a lid on it as soon as I can, but it's too late - the others have seen.

Fionna takes my hand. I try to pull away, but she won't let go.

"What's wrong, Alex?" she asks. I look up and see the faint trace of a tear forming in her eye as well.

I look back at the ground, my face burning. "I d-don't even know my dad."

Steve tries to approach us, but Fionna waves him off. "Is that why you're crying?"

"Sort of," I say, sniffling. "Don't make me talk about it, please."

"I'm not gonna make you talk about it," Fionna says.

I manage a weak smile as I wipe my eyes. "You have no idea how much I love you right now."

I reach up to her cheek and touch the single teardrop with my thumb. Our gazes meet, our eyes only inches apart. We could kiss each other, right here, right now. I want so badly to kiss her, it's not even funny.

But I don't. I feel so vulnerable right now, I don't think I can handle any more emotional overload.

So, reluctantly, I pull away from Fionna, stand up, and turn to the three dead people standing ten feet away. I take a shuddering breath and say, "Guys, I'm sorry, but I can't help you out right now. I don't really feel up to any more of this."

"That's okay, we understand," says Freddie.

"Maybe we could gather again tomorrow?" Steve asks. "But not here, I hear it's supposed to rain tomorrow. How 'bout the library?"

"Wait, wouldn't you have to check in on the Bridge for that?" Fionna points out.

"That's okay," Steve says. Except his voice appears to be disembodied, because he's suddenly nowhere to be seen.

I look at Fionna, unsure if I'm seeing the scene properly. "Are you getting this too?"

"Yeah," Fionna says. "Our dead friend is missing."

"No, I'm not," Steve says, his voice again appearing to come from some empty space between Freddie and Penny. I stare at this spot for a while before Steve suddenly reappears there. "Invisibility. It's pretty useful for dead souls who need to go incognito."

I nod. "Okay. So you'll just sneak onto the Bridge and then get visible again in the library, is that it?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Okay," I say, looking down at the ground. "What time?"

"Noon okay?"

I look at Fionna, and we both nod. "Sounds like a plan," I say, looking down again.

Steve comes forward and places his hand on my shoulder. "Dude, you don't need to be so embarrassed. God knows you're not the only one who's had a sudden emotional attack like that. You want some advice? Talk about it to somebody, sooner rather than later."

"Maybe I will," I say, wiping some stray tears from my eyes. "Thanks."

Fionna and I say goodbye to the others, then turn around and leave. "I'm still gonna go get that book for you, Fionna," I tell her.

"That's okay," she says. "I don't really need it right now. You can just mail it to me like I said before."

"No, really, I insist," I say. "Just stay put, and I'll be right back. Besides, you haven't even seen me flying yet!" With a ridiculous grin on my face, I take off flying, barely managing to dodge around the trees before I rise above their crowns and beeline towards my dorm.

Of course, it's only when I get there that I remember I left through the front door today, so my window is locked. Cursing under my breath, I fly up and over the dorm wing, then land in the courtyard and power-walk through the building. All in all, I lose about three minutes taking the long way around, but I make up for it by leaving my room through the window. A minute later, I land again in the woods, and Fionna claps her hands.

"And you stuck the landing, Feathers!" she cheers. "Ten points from the Hellish judge!"

I chuckle as I hold my hands up. "Thank you, thank you. Nothing like impressing a pretty girl to cheer a guy up." I hold out the book so Fionna can place it in her bag, then add, "Walk you back home?"

"Thanks," Fionna says, taking my hand as we move downhill. "I was kinda worried about having to cross the creek. I mean, if what those guys were saying about the Aqua Killer was true..."

"You mean about being part of the water?" I shudder. "Oh God, does that mean we can't take showers or go to the bathroom anymore?"

"I know, right?" Fionna groans. "I guess that's just a risk we'll have to take. But that's just disgusting. This guy is getting through the plumbing."

"Like the basilisk in Harry Potter?"

"Ew, don't remind me."

We reach the bottom of the delivery road and gaze out at the creek, only two blocks away. It's a sobering thought, knowing that a serial killer with impossible powers is out there, not knowing who the next victim will be, because Steve, Freddie, and Penny have (seemingly) nothing in common. All the CSI knowledge in the world can't really help us now.

Fionna's hand tightens around mine, and we walk to the Bridge at a much brisker pace. Once we're admitted through the glass door, we take the spiral staircase all the way to the top level - the only one that isn't open-air. We cross the Bridge in silence, then stop as we reach the bottom of the stairs on the Hell side.

"Are you gonna tell Gabe about this?" Fionna asks me.

"Yeah, I'm gonna tell him," I say. "I want him to join us, 'cause he seems to be just as connected to all this as I am."

"It's really freaky," Fionna says. "The fact that you might be related to a depraved psycho."

"Do you really want me to start crying again?"

"Please, never." Fionna laughs weakly while I glare at her, but then I soften my expression as I reach out and hug her. While we're as close as we are, I look down and kiss her cheek, which I see still has a tear-stain on it.

"Thanks, Feathers," Fionna whispers. At a normal volume, she adds, "Don't worry, I'll bring you another book tomorrow."

"I'm pretty sure the library has a policy against bringing in outside books," I say, tilting my head a bit.

"Screw policy," Fionna says, breaking away from me. "See you, Alex."

"Bye." I wave to her, then turn around and return to my home dimension.

When I get back to Balthazar, I head for the bathroom, only to stop halfway there. Suddenly I'm actually afraid just to take a piss. After all, that's how Steve died. Except he never even actually did any of his business...hmm. What if I'm...oh God. Can the Aqua Killer get into piss as easily as he can get into water? I can't see why not.

But I can't just ignore nature's increasingly loud calls forever.

So I relieve myself as quickly as I can. Nothing happens, and while I wash my hands, I imagine the Aqua Killer trying to swim through the pipes just as I flush the urinal. The thought of this guy possibly getting exposed to angel piss sets me off laughing like a maniac. Luckily, I'm all alone in the room at the moment, but not for long. Another dude, one I don't know (sophomore, I'd guess, based on his size), walks in after I've spent a full minute busting my sides. He spares a second to roll his eyes at me, then walks into the stall.

I leave the bathroom and return to my room to find Luca sitting on his bed, typing away disinterestedly on his laptop. "What's the matter?" I ask.

Luca looks up and sighs heavily. "Dani got pissed at me when I tried to talk to her about what you found."

"What, were you, like, all confrontational with her?"

"We both said things we shouldn't have," Luca mutters. "Let's just leave it at that. What about you? Had a nice day with Fionna?"

I'm glad to hear no sign of snideness or disgust in his voice. "Yeah. It was a good movie. And then we saw the dead guys."

"'Dead guys?'" Luca repeats, blinking rapidly. "D-Dead guys?"

I shake my head, trying not to laugh at the way he just channeled Jeff Goldblum for a moment. "Yeah, it wasn't a hallucination, it turns out. Me seeing Steve Walker last night, I mean."

"And you both saw him today?"

"Him and two other dead people, who all say they got killed by the same guy."

"So...three dead people?" Luca asks. "Sounds as if there's a serial killer on the loose." He shudders.

"Yeah, nasty," I say. "Listen, I gotta call my brother. I think he's gonna want to hear what Steve told me."

Luca nods, then picks up his laptop and carries it out while I dial Gabe's number. As I listen to the repetitive, droning tones of the phone ringing, I imagine the chorus to "Brave" playing - the Sara Bareilles anthem being Gabe's ringtone.

"What's up, you cheeky bastard?" Gabe asks as he picks up his phone.

I let out a long sigh before answering. "A hell of a lot. You wouldn't believe what happened to Fionna and me after the movie."

"No! You guys didn't-"

"It's not what you're thinking," I say hastily. "Um, Gabe, remember how you made Mom tell us how we came to be born?"

"You mean, tell us how she got herself knocked up with demon sperm?"

"Yeah, that," I say. "Have you ever given any thought about it since then?"

"Every bloody day," Gabe says. "What are you getting at, Alex? I'd kinda like to know."

I sigh again before telling him everything. It takes five minutes, and not once does Gabe speak until I'm done. At that point, he finally says, "I'll be there tomorrow," and hangs up, but not before I can hear a faint, stifled sob.

No surprise there. There's a reason why we haven't talked about our mysterious missing biological dad since our thirteenth birthday. Both of us have always wished that things could have been different, that our actual father could have helped raise us. Could have taught us the sort of things boys are supposed to learn from their dads, which we've mostly had to learn ourselves. How to play baseball and football, for instance. How to shave. How to drive a car - although Mom's got that one pretty well in hand.

We've both known it probably only happened in some other universe. But despite the age-old adage about wishing in one hand and shitting in the other, we've been pretty damn determined to fill the wish hand first.