"Certainly! This is the classroom. It's terrible. Let's leave."

"Lets."

She shows him around for a bit. "That's Mrs. Jenkins' classroom, she teaches fifth grade and apparently she's a real hardass... that's Mr. Erickson's, second grade, very nice and a total pushover... hmm, I don't actually know what room that is."

Eric snaps his fingers. The door opens.

Zanna goes in.

"Boiler room," she reports. "Huh."

When she turns around, there's another boy standing much too close to her. "Boo."

He looks a little like Eric - pale, winged, nude - but his wings are sharp-edged, and his eyes are red, and he looks wicked somehow.

Eric appears behind the other boy and pats him on the shoulder. "She sees through glamours, Tom."

Zanna jumps a little, then laughs. "Oh, were you supposed to be a demon or something?"

"A rotting corpse. You can see through glamors? That's new. How d'you do it?"

Shrug.

"This is Tom. He's an asshole. That's okay, though. It's in his... humans call them genes, right?"

"That's rich, considering she's got the same blood," Tom says offhandedly.

"Excuse me?"

"Said what I said. You're my half-sister."

"Excuse me?!"

"...Did I miss something?"

"Had you not smelled it on her? Not even the unseelie bloodline? Embarrassing," Tom opines. "I can show you. If you like."

"Show me what?"

Something in the air blurs and melts, and they're standing in... Mrs. Richardson's bedroom. She's kissing someone who is definitely not her husband.

The man also has sharp, dragonfly wings, throwing off rainbows. If Mrs Richardson cares, she isn’t showing it. But then, she is a bit occupied. 

Eric sniffs Zanna’s shoulder. “Huh. You do smell… us.”

Zanna seems distracted. "She's - why is she -"

"Thinks he's your daddy," Tom shrugs. "- right, you can't see the glamor. She's got no idea she's cheating."

Zanna collects herself. "I don't think that counts," she mutters. "You can't cheat on someone by accident."

Her mother starts stripping. Zanna gags theatrically. "Do we have to watch this?"

Eric shrugs. “Why not? Your mommy’s beautiful. Like you.”

He says this like he’s admiring a nice painting, not how an older boy might.