Nocturnal

As a little girl, my grandmother told me stories. Some were scary, others were enchanting, adventurous. I remember my favorite one well. It was a love story, to me it sounded like one of those fairy tales from Disney. Only instead of a princess, the girl was just a ordinary human. And instead of a prince, the boy was an angel.

The story of an Angel who fell in love with a Human, she used to say. It was like all the words she'd spoken about the tale rushed to my brain, words I hadn't heard since she passed away.

"The story began in Greece, back in ancient times," she'd start. "There was a kind maiden, beautiful, too. She lived in a small village named Kritsa, Crete. One day, she was out wandering through the forest and saw a boy." A goofy smile always spread on my lips when that part rolled around, she would smile back, just as fondly. "She had never seen such a fair young man. Tall, cut features—and he was staring right at her with his wise eyes. Immediately she knew. Knew that he was something else, no man or woman had eyes as old and young, so deep and profound." She would go into detail about how the boy had been watching her for years, how he'd always been watching over her—how he'd fallen in love with her selfless acts, her benevolent heart, her desire to do good.

Then she would tell me of his big sacrifice for her—for them, "To live with his beloved, to have a family, he had to give up everything. His power, his grace and immortal soul. They conceived a child. And that child was half of them both. Part Angel, part Human."

Nephilim.

Phillip had said it. And now I recalled where I'd heard the word before.

"That child was a hybrid, a Nephilim." My grandma had said.

A hand touched my arm, I jerked away, eyes wide with reservations. With worry. Phillip's jaw line was a hard, white line. His hand dropped from me. He'd reached for my injury. Had he planned on healing it? Could he do that? I breathed unsteadily, back hitting the wall. I slid further down when my legs refused to work.

"I know it's a shock... you're in shock..." he began in a hushed tone. "But I'm not the bad guy, okay? I won't hurt you."

He had no idea what I was thinking. My thoughts were on a spiral. I'd been right all along—the speed, the heating—it made sense. They were something else. They were half Angel, half Human.

My eyes darted to the carcass rotting, the thing that attacked me. A monster had attacked me and... it was dead now.

"You... killed him—" I gulped a hiccup. "You killed that... that thing—you... killed a man..." the phrase was laced with less horror than expected. I should be running and screaming. I wasn't.

It hadn't been a man towards the end, had it?

"That wasn't a man. At least, not at that stage." Cam's mutter caught me off guard. "That was a Demon." I stared in awe; he wasn't looking my way.

He was walking to Vanessa. Oh my God—she was impaled by a broken broom hilt. And... she was alive. She had something piercing her stomach, was bleeding gallons, and was still breathing. Struggling to get the thing out.

"Is... is she a Nephilim, too?"

I must have said something funny, Cam snorted a dark laugh.

"No," he grabbed the wooden piece, placing a hand to her shoulder. "That's a definite no. Hold still," Cam pushed her into the glass. "She's a—"

"Cameron—"

"What? The cat's out of the bag, gotta tell her the whole shebang now—" his words got cut off by Vanessa's inhuman wail. Cam had ripped the embedded piece out of her. "In all fairness, I said hold still." He dropped the bloody hilt.

V gasped, on her knees, holding the wound.

"She's a Vampire."

A Vampire. And Cameron said it like he was telling me something trivial, like "the sky's blue" or something. And... a Demon? He said the man was a demon, right?

I swallowed hard. Vanessa's eyes didn't fall on me, just the floor.

"You're always so sensible about things, bro." Phillip moved to my left, hiding the dead thing.

"You're sensible enough for both of us." Cameron glared around; then made his way to us, to me. "I'll get them out of here. You—"

"Get rid of evidence." Phillip cut off, annoyed. "I know the drill." The drill. I could hear my heart thundering— "Do you have blood bags on you?"

Blood bags? He was talking to Vanessa. Who, in turn was gazing at me, eyes focused in a predatory way. Like the day I'd been looking for Phillip. When she bumped into me her eyes were on my neck. She'd been in a hurry, afraid. It all fit together, now. The anxiousness, the reason why she didn't want to be around people—why Cameron said Phillip was putting people's lives at stake.

He'd lied to me.

"Nina's wounds are bleeding," Phillip urged his twin. "Keep her safe."

"I knew I'd end up cleaning your mess." Cam grumbled, crouching with grace before me. "Any other wounds?" he brushed my hair. I didn't pull from him. If anything my heartbeat relished in our proximity.

Slowly, I reached with a shaky finger, touching my temple.

"Just this one." I felt something sleek ooze—my blood.

His fingers brushed mine on accident. But it did wonders for my fear and I never wanted to pull apart.

"You'll live to see another day. Lucky you." He showed me a private smile. It vanished when Phillip moved. "We have to go." He took my waist, putting me on my feet. "Can you walk?"

I was tempted with saying no, just so he'd keep his hands on me. Phillip, I chanted, "Yeah."

Leaving me to lean on the wall, he helped Vanessa to her feet, keeping a steel-grip on her arm. Preventing her from lunging at me.

"Do it fast, brother." Cam said as he pulled V out of the cafeteria.

Our gazes crossed. He looked angry, ashamed and wild. His eyes pulsed powerfully. I glared around, the shed human skin, the blood pooling around it, around the vending machine—the burned... Demon.

They'd done that. Phillip had done that. I couldn't begin to imagine how.

"Go." He ground out.

My eyes were equally hard. He knew why. He had lied to me. That's why he felt ashamed. So, without a word, I went.

***

After making a stop by V's locker, Cameron detoured us to the infirmary, closing us inside, hitting the lights. Cam told me to sit on one of the makeshift beds. Vanessa sat on a chair draining a blood bag.

There was no denying it. It was true. She was a Vampire and that wasn't tomato juice she was so greedily swallowing—it was actual blood.

B positive, to be accurate.

On the way here, I hadn't been able to stop staring. It was disgusting, but fascinating at the same time; because through the hole in her shirt, I could see the wound closing, patching itself up.

Here, I busied myself with tracking Cameron. His hair was a disarray, T-shirt rumpled—not torn—jeans dirty and... his arm had the ugliest wound I ever laid eyes on. The tan skin was colored red, swollen in some areas.

My gut revolted with worry.

Cameron's chest took my vision, I felt myself—I was fighting the urge of latching onto his shoulders, lay my head on his chest—

Good grief, I was a bad, bad girlfriend. No matter how angry and confused I felt right now, it wasn't correct that I wanted to find comfort in my boyfriend's twin brother.

Plus, me and Cameron weren't even friends. My heart made sure to pound extra hard on that one—liar, it called me.

"This will hurt." I saw him hold a cotton ball; it was drenched in antiseptic.

Cameron caught hold of my injured arm; the bleeding had stopped, meaning the claws hadn't dug in too deep—I let out a moan of pain arching forward. Yeah, my body was a traitor. Guess where my head ended up? That's right; pressed against Cam's yummy, solid chest.

His muscles were stiff underneath the material. Was he going to pull away? Throw me across the room? God knew he could...

"Breathe, Nina." Huh...? "You're not breathing—breathe." Blinking several times, my eyes found his high above. I inhaled. "Heightened senses." As in, he could hear me inhaling? Oh boy.

Swallowing I bit down a whimper. I wasn't about to whimper, not in Cameron's presence. I wasn't a baby. Focusing on something rather than pain became easy when I grasped Cam's arm, the injured one.

I pulled it between us, onto my lap. He continued cleaning my own boo-boo, while I observed his. Looking closely, with squinted eyes, I saw skin knitting itself back together. The tissue was rapidly fighting the imperfection away.

Healing it.

"Doesn't it hurt?"

Cameron pressed the cotton ball deeper. My teeth clenched.

"I'm used to it." He said, pulling away the burning disinfectant. "Acid is ten times worse then a slash, though."

So, basically, I'd gotten off easy. Ten times worse? Pain throbbed my whole left arm, I couldn't imagine I would ever move it again.

Cam began dressing my long wound; it was done expertly, leaving me to wonder how often he'd done this.

Nephilim, I echoed. It still hadn't sunken completely. It felt like I'd been sucked into a fantasy world, where the supernatural ran amuck. But the fear, pain and danger I'd felt not even ten minutes earlier had been very real.

Plus, supernatural existence shouldn't be too much of a shock. I had dreams about future events, visions. I wasn't exactly Ms. Normality.

A cold thing brushed my temple. I gasped leaning away from sudden contact. Cam was holding a cotton swab, still taking care of me.

My cheeks burned at the thought, "Sorry," I leaned back in. "I was lost in thought." He said nothing.

Vanessa and I were left staring at each other while Cameron found a plastic bag, throwing in used up towels, cotton and the empty blood bags. He cleaned some blood off the floor—it had dripped from V's stab wound and even from my arm.

"Was it enough?" he asked her, guarded, as if she was the last person he wanted to talk to.

Vanessa briefly swept a hand under her ruined top, "It's patched up." She assured with a nod.

"That's nice," he shifted. "But are you still hungry?"

Creasing her brow, she folded her arms, "You can stop worrying. I'm not going to jump Nina—or anyone. Two blood bags did the trick."

Cameron motioned for us to leave. We did. He caught up after closing the door and lights, the plastic bag slung over a shoulder. The halls were shadowed, dead-silent. Like a possessed man hadn't tried to kill me and V.

I stopped.

"What?"

"I... I can't go home like this." I held open my arms. Blood stained my skinny sweater—the left sleeve was no more. If my mom was up—and she was—and saw me walking in like this, she would die of a heart attack! "My sweater's torn, bloody... I... I have gauze on my arm—"

"I have a hoodie in my locker. You can wear it over your clothes." Cameron said, walking down the hall.

I think he expected us to follow. V kept a healthy distance of ten feet. Her eyes cast to the ground. The blood on my clothes made her skittish. It didn't take a genius to understand.

I walked into Cameron's fierce swimmer back. Ouch.

He twisted the numbers that made his locker combination. Retrieved the hoodie and closed it.

Wow, I thought holding the clothing piece. It was big—two of me fit inside it. Cameron gave a skeptical glare. Right, I was just standing there admiring his hoodie. Without looking anymore creepy, I slipped it on.

The coldness in my bones numbed. The inside material was soft cotton, warm and lush. Although the hoodie was four times my size-number, it didn't feel wrong. It almost felt... undeniably right.

I wanted to smack myself. Wearing Cameron's clothes was not—by any standards—right.

Right? Right.

"It's my favorite hoodie. I'm going to want it back." He totally lost the knight-in-shining-armor points with that one. Jerk. "Washed and ironed, of course." He smirked.

Ant that smirk, in the midst of all the confusion, was familiar and easy to deal with.

"Oh, of course your majesty." I was being very glib—after seeing him control electricity, one would think I'd be scared for life. "I'll do you one better and dry clean it for you. I'll be sure to mail you the bill so you can shove it up your—"

"What are you still doing here?" Phillip's voice carried from the end of the hallway. "I took care of the cafeteria—" he held up a bag—it belonged to Vanessa and me. "Is this yours?"

We nodded. He perked an eyebrow. Next, he waved the box of condoms. From behind us, Cameron made a dirty noise. I wanted to shove my elbow all the way into his spleen.

"I hope you have a really good excuse to be here. At night. Alone. Breaking into school." He dropped the box into the white plastic bag.

"We were just..." V began, spying a glance at me—back at Phillip. "We were just pranking Daren and Sam... you know, their lockers?"

"You were supposed to take Nina home." Phillip's undertone was angry, he was trying to push a more placid feeling, though. "She doesn't know the dangers—you do. You've known for months now. Haven Hills—any place—isn't safe. Especially at night."

I didn't know what that meant. Only that I didn't like the sound of it.

"I... I..." Phillip sighed, glancing from the floor to her. "I'm sorry. I... didn't even listen for anything—I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry."

Cameron drew a breath of restlessness. He was right behind me. Inches apart—very distracting.

Phillip didn't seem to have it in him to scold her, further. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to, either. Vanessa's remorseful tone cut to my core, making me feel just how terrible she felt for what happened—for what might have happened.

I couldn't bring myself to speak, though. Maybe because Phillip was here. The heaviness between us was palpable. He avoided my eyes, I did the same.

My boyfriend sighed, "Let's just get out of here." He walked past us, standing shoulder to shoulder with Cameron. "One Demon was enough."

Cam clapped his younger twin's shoulder, "Someone's out of shape."

"Saved your ass..." he muttered along our walk to the double doors. Phillip had the keys to the school—a copy of them. Now it made sense why.

Cameron chuckled, "I didn't need saving, little brother. I was going to fry its brains—you just beat me to it."

After grimacing at the image Cam implanted in my brain, I saw V's car. It was the only one. How had they gotten here?

"They ran," my head spun to Vanessa who bit her lip.

"Were... were you in my head?" I deadpanned, hugging my arms feeling exposed—nude, unprotected.

Shame fell across the planes of her face, "Sorry. I don't... have much control yet."

I turned around rubbing my temples—wincing. I forgot one of them had a band-aid. Pushing the biggest scream inside, I whirled to face them—the three of them. I wanted answers.

I was so, so tired. So tired... exhausted... I didn't want to ask the question "do you know about me, what I am" because I had a feeling picking a fight would be unavoidable, then. Right now, my head throbbed unable to process much more.

"Take me home—just... I need to go home." My voice grew toneless. Phillip's expression pinched; regret swam in those undeniable blue orbs. "I want to sleep, I'm tired." I doubted I'd be able to sleep. But I wasn't against crawling inside my bed, tuck the covers and clench my eyes.

"Can you give us a lift?" Phillip asked.

Vanessa nodded, going to the driver's door. Cameron opened the door for me. I wobbled inside; he followed. Phillip was riding on front. In the backseat, I felt drawn to Cameron. He was so close.

I shook my thoughts. Maybe I needed to get my head checked. And my heart. And whole my tingling body every time I heard him change position, or breathe.

Could I sound more stalkery? I groaned looking outside. Fortunately, we weren't far from my house.

"Stop in the next one." I whispered strongly, not looking at anyone.

V did as told. Golden irises lingered on electric blue. I ripped us apart with a vicious turn of my head, climbing out of the car. My door wasn't the only one smacking.

If Phillip was planning on coming after me, he could forget it. I wasn't in the mood for discussing any paranormal, not tonight. Quiet words were exchanged as I walked across my driveway.

The car pulled away.

A breath I'd been holding escaped—my whole frame heated as that presence remained. So close...

"What are you doing?" I asked dumbfounded. Cameron walked to the first porch step, where I was.

"Warning you," he lifted his bowed head. "You can't tell anyone, Nina. Anyone—"

"Cameron—"

"I don't think you're a problem. I think you're good at keeping secrets, though." My mouth closed slowly. He tucked his lips in, keeping something in—a truth he wanted to get out. But just wouldn't.

He walked down the step.

I watched him; following Cam's broad shoulders, tracing the lines of his muscles rippling under the shirt. My gaze dropped to his bad arm—any wound indication was almost gone—I wanted to cradle it again.

My hands fisted in the hoodie's hem.

"It was a pleasure."

I stared at his fat smirk, "What was?" I whispered confused.

His lips tipped more, "Saving your life," the words hit me. "It was a pleasure."

And before I could comment—Cameron took off, like the freaking Flash. He was gone before I realized Cameron had just stated he didn't want me dead. And, yeah, in our relationship it was a big deal. I thought he hated me... what was I supposed to make of that?

***

Mom hadn't been up. She'd been asleep on the couch. Must have had a long day at the office. I covered her with a mantle, turning off the TV and living room lights.

It was better that she didn't ask questions. Like where was my car—something I had no idea—why was I wearing a boy's hoodie, why did I have a band-aid on my forehead?

All questions best left alone. At least, until I came up with a good excuse. I made my way up the stairs soundlessly. As I tread into my bedroom, I closed the door—locked it. And leaned on it. Nothing moved, no sound came from the darkness enveloping me.

Finding strength to move, I walked to my bed sitting down. Facing forward. Moonlight shone through the open curtains, falling to my bed.

The jeans went into the hamper. I took care of hygiene, washing some dried blood from my arm. I hid my sweater inside a empty shoe box, in my closet, I would have to get rid of it tomorrow.

I was in my pajama bottoms staring at the upper half. Then I glanced at the dark hoodie. It was wrong. But it was warm. But it was so very, very... wrong.

It didn't feel that way.

Grabbing the hoodie, I pulled it over my head and crawled into bed. I laid awake; comfortable, but afraid. I had to make sure not to pressure my left arm. In my jumbled thoughts Cameron popped up.

He'd saved my life. Phillip burned the... thing... but Cam had gotten there in the nick of time. I didn't know if the Demon only wanted to kill me, eat me—didn't matter. He stopped it. He patched me up, gently, carefully and... loaned me his hoodie.

I soaked up the smell it held. It wasn't sweaty, musty or even citrus—like Phillip—no. It was something I knew. From my dreams.

Eucalyptus.