Infernal

Cam's POV

Ever since I was a kid, I've asked myself about life. Why we were living it, what was the point. Even after my dad told me and Phill about the paranormal side of things, I'd wondered from where it all came—sure there was something called Power of Creation—an entity called God, but not to have a visual...? It still seemed impossible to me—sometimes it still does.

But why are we alive? What's the point of it all? No matter how smart I got, I never found an answer. So, I figured we were all expendable chess pieces, created for someone's amusement.

Me being me, didn't like to be someone's toy, to go on living without a stinking purpose.

My purpose was keeping my little brother safe.

Then she happened. Pulled me into a whirlwind of epic proportions without a clue. And, faster than I liked to admit, I'd found myself caring for someone other than my brother—I'd found myself wanting to protect her as much.

Which was why, yelling at Nina about going through with the ritual had killed me.

There was one thing about me that wouldn't change. Once I made up my mind about something, that was it. The rest of the world could screw themselves sideways.

"You're being rash about this." Rory murmured sitting on a step beside me.

I kept quiet, enjoying the freezing night air of December. It had been raining about an hour ago, and it was bitching cold, but I needed to cool off. We were out in the mansion's patio, the room's lights were out—mostly—Cambions and Vampires were out doing God knows what.

There was one light though...

I lowered my elbows onto my knees, scratching my neck.

"She's upset with me."

"Can you blame her? I'm not locked away in a room, but I'm far from happy with your choice." Courtney sniffed, her heels clicked on the cement as she stretched out her legs. "I don't know what to tell you Cameron, I know nothing I say will change your decision, you're too bloody stubborn—you take after your mother on that—at least tell me you'll try talking to her before we go out to meet Sabine. Try to make it right with the poor girl, she..." Rory stopped her words. I side-glanced her shadowed face. "She cares about you a lot."

"You think?" I said, sounding like an asshole.

Even in the dimness I saw her firm scolding glare.

"I know," I mussed in a softer tone. "She's weird, huh?" There was more awe than humor in me.

Rory's brown curtain of hair slid over a shoulder as she turned to face me.

"Weird... because she cares about you?" Pause. "Cameron," she admonished, hand falling on my shoulder, her thumb dug into my muscle, softly. "You have to get over this stupid idea you aren't worth lov—"

In a second, I was standing on the lower step, muscles taut with tension.

"Don't," I grounded. "Don't start with me, okay? I know what I did, I know it was unforgivable and I'm paying for it—just don't say anything." I looked towards the only light worth seeing. Nina's bedroom. "I'm going to try and force the rabbit out."

"Cam—"

"See you in a few, Rory!" I waved jogging up to the balcony, down the halls of doors and large windows, willing Courtney's conversation topic into a mental trash bin.

As a Nephilim, physical exhaustion was harder to reach. Along the years, Phillip and I tested our limits, saw how far we could push ourselves. Just for fun.

Nothing ever stole my breath like standing outside a Nina's bedroom door. Felt like I'd been running circles around the world.

The hall was shrouded by darkness except for the light coming from underneath her door. Clenching a hand, I knocked stiffly.

Ten seconds was all I gave her.

"Open up, Nina." I ordered tersely. My hearing stretched out, catching a bed spring squeaking. "I can hear you hating me." The joke did nothing, she didn't move an inch.

My eyes dropped to the knob. I could just break it and force an entering. Doubted it would win me brownie points, though. The tips of my fingers brushed along the wooden obstacle keeping me out.

Sighing, I dropped the hand, sliding down with my back against the door.

"Do you think I want to do this? To... leave you alone? If I wanted to ditch you I would've done it by now." I felt like a moron talking to myself in a hallway. "I told you once, remember? What I want to do, and what I need to do are two different things. Sometimes there's no choice—sometimes you can't have everything. Phillip needs me and he'd do the same for me, he wouldn't wait a month."

Eyes closing, I searched deeper, my hearing picking up on her slow, soft breaths. They were like a beautiful song. I stayed there for numerous lost minutes—they felt like hours—with my cheek resting on the threshold, arms on top of my knees.

I sat waiting for words that never came, waiting to hear the voice that haunted my dreams. Swallowing a shallow breath, I pushed the tendrils of fear creeping inside my soul. It wasn't like me to be afraid of death. I'd been faced with it more times than Nina knew of, but I was afraid. Not of dying—of being alone.

That was selfish of me, though. Forcing her to watch me possibly die. And if Nina was anything like me—and she was—her mind wouldn't change and the more time I camped out here would only make it worse.

"Say something," I leaned my head back. "Anything." I murmured.

Nothing at all.

When I got to my feet, it felt like a ball of lead was strapped to my ankle. Like a prisoner. Like I couldn't leave. My teeth gritted, I had to.

Stealing one last glance at the door, I pictured her. The careless ponytail, the way the wry strands fell over her neck and sun-kissed cheeks. Her stunning, golden-bathed eyes, saddened and angry—at me. Nina biting her lip curled on her side, clutching the star necklace.

That's how I imagined her. Maybe it was giving myself to much credit, thinking she'd be that miserable over me, but it helped me push away from the bedroom door. Away from the hallway. Away from the mansion.

***

St. Louis cemetery was dead quiet. I smirked—bitterly. The graves embraced me on all sides, Rory had sent me a text saying she was already here, so were Sabine and Romeo. She said I only needed to follow the smell of burning candles. I caught on without a problem, there was something else, another scent. Some kind of plant.

I'd never met a Witch, had never seen Magic at work or a ritual. I knew how it worked—what I'd read in a few books.

Once I reached a wider aisle, I turned to the left where burning white candles formed a big circle. My hands left my pockets as I trudged over short, cut grass and stepped onto old marble. Why didn't it surprise me that there was a big ass altar here?

"Thought you'd chickened out." I arched an eyebrow, pinpointing Romeo. He was leaning casually on the wall of a huge mausoleum. Looked like a mini-Greek temple or whatever.

"Cowardice isn't in my genes."

His lips threaded into a smile.

"Because you're a Nephilim?"

"Because my parents weren't cowards." I said, tilting my head. "And this is for my brother, I'd do anything for him."

"Ah." The flame of a candle next to him flickered, his face stood out in a scary mask. "How noble of you."

Just before I could show him how easy it was to tick me off, Rory grabbed my forearm. She gripped me hard enough to force me around, facing her.

"Did you talk to Nina?"

My stomach coiled.

"We... weren't much for words." I said, hoping she'd take it to the naughty side of things. Not put two and two together and realize the truth.

Sometimes I wished Courtney didn't care so much. The deflated expression showed me she knew and the squeeze to the arm made me feel pitied. I hated that.

"Why are you acting like I've already died?" My hiss slithered around her throat causing her to take a sharp breath. "I'm alive—I'm planning on staying that way. Thanks for all the moral support, but I'd rather not have it." I snatched my arm, looking right into her eyes.

Courtney's hand fell by her side and if I didn't know better, I'd say Romeo growled from behind me. Something here was seriously messed up. Not my business, though. I had more problems then I could handle.

"Where's Sabine?" My shoulders hunched as a gust of wind blew across the cemetery.

Rory nodded behind me, I glanced over a shoulder finding the curly haired Witched working soundlessly. Deciding that staring into Rory's pity or picking a fight with her probable Ex wasn't a good choice, I walked towards her, crouching beside her.

"What are you doing?"

"Writing," she looked up as if sensing my confusion. "These are Sigils, I guess you can call it Witch language."

"Like Enochian for Angels." She nodded. "What does it mean, what you're drawing?"

"It doesn't really matter to you. The knowledge of how to use the energy around us or how to channel it from things is passed on through our blood and some bloodlines are stronger than others, but no matter how strong the Witch is, in rituals we always need to write an invocation. You can think of Sigils as the magic words."

"Open sesame." Sabine gave a little grin. I rubbed my hands on my jeans as she finished drawing a spiral with a pointy end. "Do you have these all memorized?"

She snorted, "No, of course not. We have Grimoires. They're books listing many different types of Sigils, every generation comes up with something new. A new ritual or a complicated spell." She shrugged. "They intensify our power."

"Oh." My eyes were fastened on the symbol I was pretty sure represented the moon. "How does this go down?"

Sabine kept the chalk moving over the marble, never losing her firm grip on the twists and turns. It was like watching someone write a perfect sonnet only in a language I couldn't understand.

"You stand in the circle of Sigils and candles and try not to die before I finish extracting the moon's power." I let out a short chuckle. A dark one. "See this?" Sabine withdrew a shiny, oval stone from her bag. "It's called a moonstone. I can harness the moon's energy inside it, trapping it until you want to use it—to open the Gate."

A thumb slid over the milky white stone, feeling its smooth texture. Smooth like Nina's skin, I thought and shut my eyes, breathing out.

"How long will it last?"

"I'll only know when I start it." Sabine's caramel locks bounced when she tilted her head my way.

In that minute, I was hit with another curly haired girl. A loud mouth I'd known since I was five, maybe six. Dawn, with her bubbly smile and lively personality rushed a ache in my chest. More faces sprung on me like glue, I shook it away.

Phillip. Phillip needs me.

"Ready?" She whispered.

I hadn't noticed her straightening to full height, or caught her putting the chalk away. She took the moonstone from my fingers, gently. Whatever I saw in her gaze... it wasn't pity. Not sympathy.

Respect.

Nodding once, I set out to the circle of dripping candles and white unknown symbols. For the first time since arriving, I looked up. Up in the dark sky, clouds sailed slowly, the moon overhead was barely visible. Just a thin banana shape.

I'd always known my father had been linked to the moon, that we were, too. Absently, I rubbed my left shoulder blade, where my crescent moon tattoo was.

"I just stand here and look pretty, huh?"

Sabine smiled to lighten the tense mood Rory's nail-biting was providing. At least someone didn't think I was doomed. The moonstone was big enough to fit in Sabine's outstretched palm; her fingers were wide apart and I didn't get a countdown, she started chanting.

The words were as foreign as the Sigils, it didn't sound anything like I'd heard before. The accent was thick and stern, commanding. Up above clouds roamed away faster, the moon glint seemed to stand out.

The candles' flames rose inch by inch, until I was darn sure they were knee-high with me. My heartbeat quickened.

I couldn't explain what happened next—I didn't understand. But I felt it. It started off as a pinch, nothing too bad. A feeling of fullness coursed my veins, my Power scattered. Like it was being driven away for something else to pass.

My limbs started getting heavier. Minutes flew by and that was all I felt. Heaviness. The pinch. I could see Sabine—hear her voice that was now louder than the windy whisper that had started it all. The moonstone... it was glowing. A faint, white-rosish light.

The stone glowed more. The pinch vanished, giving place to a clawing of epic proportions. Pressure built up, like my blood was pushing into the walls of my veins and arteries. That's when all the senses became duller, like my Power was shutting off completely.

No, was the only thing I could think. My throat hurt as I breathed, I couldn't stand anymore. I fell on my knees gasping, vision wobbling.

A red dot fell on the marble. Below me—my face.

With a shaking hand, I pressed my fingers to my nose. Wet. Bleeding, my brain supplied.

Why was I bleeding?

No, no thinking it... it hurts...! It hurts to think! Why... why does it hurt...?

I thought I couldn't breathe, but I screamed. Those were my screams filling up the empty ways of the cemetery. I grabbed my head between both hands, there was a... a pounding. It hurt so bad. Why didn't it stop?

I wanted it to stop!

Something inside me was beating harder, faster. I wanted the noise to stop, it was so loud. My head … my head was swelling. Why? What was I doing this for?

I doubled in agony, feeling more wetness trickling down my nose—I yelled like I was being stabbed in the eyes by forks.

It was coming out... The blood. Blood was pooling outside my eyes.

Instinct made me tug for my Power, it didn't came. There was a barrier keeping it away. No. No! I needed it! I...

Pain shot everywhere, my head was the worst but... but my knees gave out under me. Muscles and insides burned, torched by unknown heat. I coughed, feeling limp.

The current rushing through me didn't vanish. Stop...

Chanting and yelling became lower, the ringing in my ears was above all else. More blood trickled down my cheeks and suddenly I was watching the outside world through a pair of red lenses.

Faces stuck out, flashes of life ran by me. Somewhere a part of me whispered, Goodbye isn't the hardest, knowing what you left behind is...

Hmm. Wise even in death. Phillip would've laughed. I grimaced, tasting my own blood. Maybe not.

There was no time for thinking of what I could've done, to wish for more time, there was no room inside me to think. So, I let go. Giving into memories that threatened to suffocate me. And it was easy, not as painful as hanging on.

I recalled stupid things, like climbing trees, getting my ass handed to me in Halo by my brother. Remembered our fights about last slices of pizza. Shooting hoops. How his eyes reminded me of dad's, how his selflessness had come from mom.

How I promised to never leave him.

I wheezed a breath.

Most guys probably knew when and where their first kiss had been—with who. I didn't. Since I'd met Nina I only thought of her, of her plush lips on mine. How they'd brought me to life that night. I didn't remember my first time, instead, I thought about the first day I'd seen her at school.

Thought of how gently she moved. How she could either be strong or soft. How she tasted.

I saw her face until it faded out.

The first time I'd ran through the woods like a bolt, I hadn't been able to stop. A tree had, though. I'd felt alive, then. All my senses had been awake—jumbled—but awake. Not now.

I heard something squeak next to me—like sneakers skimming on pavement. Something that felt warm touched my neck and I didn't care it was pushing my head to the side, it was starting to numb—the pain.

That wasn't right, was it...? I was still bleeding, so the pain... shouldn't go away if... Eyelashes dropping, I caught a blurry sight of a dangling star. A finger came close to my eye, wiping running blood away. The hand didn't leave my face.

My last thought was of a girl with golden eyes and a goofy smile.