Ethereal

Nina's POV

The first thing I felt was cold. Then, after stirring, I felt a light sting around my head and when I breathed, I coughed. A scraping sound later, a burning hand curved on my cheek.

"Phillip..." I croaked, eyelids fluttering.

Through blurry vision I saw sandy hair toppling over two beautiful sapphires. A distinct smell of coffee wafted among the... antiseptic? Blinking, I saw the white walls, the IV wire stuck to my arm and heard beeping.

In a rush, the car crash came back. Not just that, the game, Sam's ambush and Zeke's death. My heart balked.

"Nina, you with me?" Eyes settling on his, I nodded—groaning. "Try not to move your head. You have a nasty concussion," he paused. "And your neck got stitches."

Well, that explained the sore throat every time I breathed or swallowed.

Phillip was in the midst of caressing my cheek when a shudder racked his body. His head bowed, forehead pressing against my arm. The change completely knocked me into reality.

"Phillip—"

"I'm okay." He said, breath tickling my skin. "You scared the shit out of me, Nina. When I... When I got to the parking lot your car was gone. I followed down Madison Avenue and heard the crash..." Even through the haze, I felt the shakiness in his words. "I thought maybe you... you wouldn't make it because there was just so much blood."

I had to swallow a couple dozen times before my voice didn't sound like sandpaper.

"You saved me," I whispered. "I'm alive thanks to you."

Cocking his head, he looked at me. His eyes were shiny and a little red around the edges.

"I was scared of losing you, too." Just like that, I knew those unshed tears weren't only for me, but also for Zeke. Part of my heart warmed, knowing the Phillip I'd known wasn't so far gone, after all.

"You didn't." Twitching my fingers, I managed to lift a hand, smoothing back the rusty nest of hair. He leaned into the caress. It took me several minutes, but I finally noticed a glint among the sheets, where my hand had been lying motionless. "Hey... what's my necklace doing there?"

Phillip straightened in the plastic chair, taking my hand between his keeping it warm.

"It must've been Cam."

I jerked off bed so fast Phillip pushed me down—saving my stitches from being torn.

"Cam? He was here—really him?" I asked sounding crazed. "Tell me!"

"Yes," he hissed, putting a finger to his lips.

To hell with silence.

"When? How?"

"About three hours ago. I don't know how exactly, but he came here after the crash and he was himself, Nina. He came here for you—because of you." Phillip placed both hands on my shoulders, gently. "You need to stop moving so damn much."

Cam had been here. It sent a rush of adrenaline through me that acted better than any pain killers. I'd run across the country with cuts and bruises just to look into his eyes and see their obsidian hue.

"He lost control, didn't he?" the rush drained away, realizing he'd be at my bedside if he could. Phillip nodded. I fondled the star with a thumb, then, set it beside Phill's coffee.

The touch of his warm fingers made me shiver with delight.

"Scoot over."

That caught me off guard, "Huh... what?"

He smiled tenderly, cupping my cheek. I didn't resist leaning in.

"Scoot over, baby, you're freezing." He didn't leave me with much choice, climbing in over the covers, minding the wires.

What Phillip did was against hospital regulations—I was sure—but I didn't breathe a word against it. Phillip's long body barely fit in along with mine.

"Vanessa was here earlier. She compelled the floor nurses and doctors to leave us alone. I won't be leaving tonight."

With anyone else, I would've been wholly uncomfortable, with him... it was nice. Not because it reminded me of sharing a bed with his brother, either. Because there was nothing remotely close in how Cameron shared a bed with me—he didn't simply turn on his side, brushing his forehead on mine. Cameron crowded my body with his, violated every inch of privacy, making me feel complete.

Phillip was sweet, letting me have all the space I needed, running a hand down my arm. Being close to him was like being in a desert. In minutes, all my coldness was gone.

A strange sound left me.

Phillip took my chin, tilting it, "None of what happened is your fault."

My airways clogged, "I wish you'd stop saying that... Can't you see what's happened—everything that's happened since I moved here?" a muscle in his jaw jumped. "Maybe you'd all be better off if you hadn't met me."

"Cameron wouldn't be better off without you." Softly, his thumb caught a run-away tear. "He loves you, Nina." I tried turning away—he kept me in place. "I wouldn't be better off without you, either." He whispered, kissing the top of my head. It brought back memories from when we'd first kissed in the meadow, where his parents had met.

Time whisked away as he quietly explained Samantha was now Succubus-free. He told me how the exorcism was supposed to happen, but honestly, my battered brain caught only two or three details. Like, the Osha went around Sam's neck, the Succubus got sucked into it once Serena chanted some mambo jambo and burning the Osha effectively killed the Possessor Demon.

Good riddance.

Slowly, I drifted to a place where no one could touch me and as I fell deeper, Phillip's warmth comforted me. Never leaving me.

***

I got discharged on Sunday, mid-afternoon.

On Saturday, V had swung by, not staying long for two reasons. Hospitals made her peckish and she had to get back to Dawn. Phillip had moved Zeke's body into the locker room showers, a janitor had stumbled upon him. Paramedics had been called in, panic had ensued. Many people had ditched the after party. Zeke had been crazy popular—only he was—had been—one of those rare, good-guy types who got along with everyone, and in return everyone liked him.

Serena had gone over with Jade, too. Jade had nearly squeezed the life out of me. She was strong for such a small thing. Serena hadn't bear-hugged me into next-year—she didn't strike me as cuddly—but she'd given me brownies. Which, yeah, made me love her.

Hospital food sucked big time.

I'd gotten a kick watching Phillip and her keep their hands to each other, when it was obvious to me Phillip wanted to grab her and have his way with her...

Hmm, maybe I'd taken too many pain killers. I felt a little drunk. That wasn't good. I had English in ten minutes.

"How are you feeling?"

I spared my carpool driver a glance, smiling. Oh yeah, I was a teensy bit high.

"Don't pretend like you care."

Sighing, gray eyes moved back to the road.

"Good to know you haven't lost your edge." Lux muttered, pulling into the parking lot with a rough left. My hand shot for the door handle—heart thundering. "Please don't tell me you're afraid of cars now?"

"Jerk." I bit, getting out of the Camaro. He was by my side in a blink.

I stood my ground as he gazed down at me, watching something I couldn't understand. It wasn't often that I saw more than irony, anger, cruelty behind those cold silvery irises. But like when he'd looked at the velvet sack, the frigid barrier seemed do dwindle.

Unlike other times, I didn't jump five-feet when he touched me. His finger swept over the center of my forehead. I knew it was purplish even after covering most of it with make up. Under his aged stare I felt incredibly young, innocent and... blessed. Because I didn't think I'd be able to live with myself knowing as much as he did, or after seeing and doing what he'd done.

"Believe it or not, I mean you no harm." He combed long fingers through my hair, locking it behind an ear.

Stunned, I forced my voice to work, "Sorry if I have a hard time believing that."

With another hand he touched the gauze on my neck—I flinched. The skin was still tender. Lucifer pulled away.

"It's true. I take no pleasure in your pain." He said, sounding honest. Plot twist. "But I want what I want." Etna, I thought. Whatever she had he wanted, it had to be powerful.

He reached forward, opening the backdoor, grabbing my bag. I frowned once he slung it over a shoulder.

"You don't need to do that..."

"You were in a car accident three days ago. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't carry your bag?" Leaving no room for argument, he lightly pushed me forward.

I had no idea what to expect and once we crossed the school doors, I could feel the change in the air. Morose faces walked at a slow pace, murmuring, commenting between each other about drugs, steroids, and alcohol. Some didn't talk. No one was smiling—not really.

Down a hallway, students were gathered around a locker. Zeke's. There were flowers, stamped photos of him, of friends—Cam was with him in the football team photograph, Phillip in the basketball one. White candles formed a circle around the memorial.

I wiped a tear before it got too far. Blinking, I noticed Phillip leaning on one of the opposite lockers, Vanessa by his side. I was wondering why he'd left earlier... this must've been why. Phillip's gaze barely locked on his 'brother', quickly settling on me, softening.

He was just walking over when a blond intercepted him. I recognized her as she tilted her head, letting me see a blue eye. It was Felicia. Their faces told me they were talking about Zeke's passing. Doubt took root, though.

Hadn't she been looking at our table a few days ago?

I dropped the detective frown before I cornered her, interrogating her niceness. Hanging with Cameron too long had its side-effects. I sighed as Phill moved past her, stopping oh-so close to me.

A finger ghosted over my banged up neck. He cleared his voice before using it.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay," I whispered, enjoying the nice-guy act. "Better than Zeke..." it slipped.

He pushed copper strands back, eying over my shoulder. Oh. Guess he hadn't expected Lux to bag-carry, either.

He caressed my cheek leaving a warm trail. I found myself wanting to lean closer—it was too cold.

"I'll see you in English." I nodded, watching him go, looking over his shoulder before turning a corner.

English was uneventful. Mr. Carter said a few words about Zeke's death, sneaking in some warnings. The kind you saw at a guidance counselors office. Dawn was a no-show. Worry laced with a touch of guilt punched my stomach. She hadn't answered my calls—she'd texted, especially after V told her about my accident. But she'd never mentioned Zeke. I was taking comfort in the fact she'd been dodging Vanessa's calls, too.

The funeral had been yesterday morning, I'd been stuck in the hospital, though. V had been there and... Well, she'd had no words to describe the scene. I couldn't imagine what it must've felt like. Because you're a coward, a snide rung in my head, you didn't even have the guts to attend your parents funeral!

I heaved a breath, hunching over some Trigg equations, trying to engross myself in work. Ha. If I'd been having trouble before, when life wasn't a complete circus, now it was impossible to keep up. At least I wasn't painting my nails behind my Trigg book.

How was it, that after everything she'd done—Sam didn't have any repercussions? After Serena's Witchy-spell, Samantha had been out of her wits, so, V used her nifty compulsion. She erased any wicked memory from her time as a Succubus host, about what we were—that had taken almost two hours.

Had been worth it. Sam was acting her shallow, bitchy self. Only without the Demonic boost.

V had done the right thing. God only knows what would've happened if that blabbermouth went around telling people about all things supernatural. Still...

"It's pretty isn't it?" She said, catching me looking. I blinked as freshly painted blue nails were turned my way. "It's such a pretty blue... Too bad I can't remember where I bought it." Sam muttered to herself. She shrugged, dipping the brush, starting on her other hand.

Okay. No bitch-slap-comment? Shocked.

Classes, lunch, more classes and the car ride home flipped by like book pages. Lucifer hadn't been much of a talker since his morning moment of apparent sympathy. I gave up calling Dawn after the eleventh missed call. I thought about calling Henry. Last time we talked was the day after we returned. Kid had been raving mad because I hadn't called on Christmas. Or New Year's.

I winced, throwing my phone into my bag.

I wasn't in the mood to deal with his tantrums, even if they had a good reason.

I rolled onto my back, blowing a strand of hair away. Tried to. I ended up having to tuck it away. Absently, I rubbed the strands. I couldn't remember a time when my hair wasn't long, dropping below my shoulders, covering my ears, the sides of my neck. Mom used to love the feeling of air rustling her hair.

My chest heaved. She wasn't here anymore. Like Zeke.

Strolling into the small bathroom, I flipped the light, bracing myself on the sink. Golden eyes stared deep into the mirror. I was a hot mess. Make-up had rubbed off sometime during the afternoon, leaving ugly purple stains on my temple and forehead. My sun-kissed skin had lost some glow, maybe from the cloudy weather or from the crash. Maybe both.

Pulling back, I hugged my arms.

Five months ago, my hair wouldn't have been messed in tangles, my skin wouldn't have been discolored and I wouldn't be feeling a hollow spot where my heart should be. But now, staring into my own eyes, I saw someone different. New. A Nina my Mother would've called a stranger.

Fingers trailed down voluptuous waves. I wasn't little naive Nina anymore. Whatever had been left of that girl, had died in that crash. Where I should've died two months ago, in the same fire that killed my whole family.

Opening the drawer, reaching for the pointy scissors—was instinct. But looking back at me, slipping my hair into a bun and chopping the whole thing off? Was completely voluntary. I had to cut several times until I cut through its mass. Tawny hair fluttered down into the sink.

I ran my fingers through what was left. My long hair had been reduced to short, reaching inches below the chin. I combed it, brushing wavy bangs left.

***

Dark eyebrows arched after Cameron's head poked into my bedroom.

"What happened to your hair?" I thought it was pretty obvious. "Never mind," he came in, shutting the door. I propped my back against the headboard, wary. "I figured it was time you started working on my missing person case."

A glorious smirk set in as he sat at the foot of bed. I crossed my arms.

"Okay," I said, slowly. "But before I do anything... I want to know things. Like... Why would my grandmother help you get me—get Cameron? It doesn't make any sense."

Lucifer's eyes flicked from the small velvet bag. His thumb—unknowingly or not—was stroking it.

"Not to you. See, I had every Psychic in your family brought to me along the years. But none were able to help me—until Grace, your grandmother." His lips teased at a smile. "Funny name—Grace. Anyway, I've always looked after your family's lineage, even before Grace professed your coming and Cameron's. But once I learned about you, I ordered the veil across San Diego—I couldn't take any chances of you not being born."

I wasn't sure if I should feel flattered...

"I don't understand—"

"Then don't interrupt." My mouth closed at the dripping authority. "When Grace was taken to see me, I explained—like every other time—why I wanted their help. I can't say she believed it completely, but she believed more than anyone else before her. Your grandmother had a tendency for empathy, sort of like..." He paused, looking lost, looking into my eyes. Only he wasn't seeing me.

Several heartbeats later, I shifted, dragging out a "So...?"

"So," he carried on, like he'd never gone A-wall. "She told me she couldn't find Etna, but she knew who could. Someone who hadn't been born yet. And she told me about Cameron. I wasn't too surprised, Gabriel had always been fascinated by humans."

"Probably didn't get that from you."

He chuckled amused, "No. But he didn't get it from Saint Michael, either." What did that mean? Crap. Every word dropping from this guy's mouth gave me more questions.

"You're saying my grandma told you about us because she... pitied you?"

"I wouldn't say she pitied me—sympathized, yes." Ah. Total game changer.

I scowled.

"And why was she sympathetic with you? The way I see it, she should've been sorry for this Etna chic." A dark look passed quickly, a shadow running in broad daylight. It made me shiver. "Plus, why have you been keeping my family safe for so many years?"

Leaning back on his elbows, a blank look slipped on.

"To answer your first question: I think it's better if you see for yourself. If others of your family had been able to see into the past—like you—they would've believed me." How was he so sure? My skin was crawling with excitement. "The second one is easy."

He fell silent. I swear my teeth were grinding together with suspense. Lucifer took his sweet time, pretending to admire my new hairdo, curving his lips a tiny more each second. When blood vessels threatened to pop...

"Etna's your ancestor. A Nephilim."