Ethereal

Phillip's POV

For five minutes I'd been standing outside Serena's guest bedroom. Five minutes of rolling words around my head, breathing every two-seconds to catch her vanilla scent. Five minutes of wondering what I wanted from this—from her.

I'd never felt this way. So... powerless.

Serena had all the power here. The Succubus had been dealt with, Nina was home-save. She had no reason to stay. If she did go...

I rubbed over my heart, lowering my eyes to the ground.

I should want her to leave. Lucifer was losing patience with Nina, and it had been weeks since Uriel got her ass handed to her. I wasn't stupid enough to think she'd do nothing about it. Or that Heaven would watch quietly as the Devil walked free.

A fucking storm was coming. The further Serena got from here—from me—the better. The thought of it, though, it... it broke something inside me.

The door squeaked open.

Crystal eyes fluttered to mine. A violent flutter of mutant butterflies shook my stomach.

"Hi," I stumbled a step back. A loud thump was followed by a deafening crack. I'd bumped into a vase. Said vase was in thousand of pieces. "Sorry."

Serena laughed, a genuine kind of laugh.

"It's your house, Phillip." Yeah, I'd actually meant "sorry for being a lurker". "I can fix it, if you want?"

I shook my head, her words not even registering, and walked toward her. I didn't stop, so, Serena backed up into her room. She blinked at the door once I flung it shut.

"Is everything okay?"

No. Yes. Maybe—no.

Damn. She made me such a mess.

"We need to talk."

She crossed her arms, squatting her slim shoulders. Looked like she was giving me the green light.

Taking a deep breath, I locked eyes and flexed my jaw. I needed to get this over with, whatever this was between us, 'cause it was driving me crazy. Serena could crush every bit of me once I was done, but at least she'd know my feelings. There wouldn't be 'what ifs', no wondering "if I'd told her, would she have left?"

Life was freakishly short. Zeke's death served as a cruel and bitter reminder—one no one wanted.

"I know you didn't come here for me. I know you came for my brother—to bring Jade. And that I made you stay so you'd help us with Sam, but... I want you to know..." My lungs felt on the verge of collapsing. What made it worse were her parted lips, the soft, yet afraid posture.

"Phillip—"

"I couldn't stop thinking about you. I still can't." Serena's words died in an inaudible whisper. "Every time I think about you, everything falls away and when we're in the same room all I want to do is touch you. Hold your hand," That sounded mushier than anything I'd ever thought. "To kiss you..."

Control had been tossed away. My fingers trailed over her porcelain skin, lighting a fire wide enough to consume this whole bedroom. I wavered, stopping for a second, waiting for her to tear away. She just stood perfectly still, like a statue.

"Maybe you don't even realize it, but you saved me. In Hell? You gave me hope when all I saw was death and despair. You were kind and caring since the beginning—"

"I just did what anyone would've done."

"No," my fingers clutched her chin, forcing her to look at me. "You had just lost your mother and sister, you had every right to mourn, to give up... But you never did. You held strong." Strands of sandy hair fell forward, blending with pure blond. Our foreheads grazed. "You were my sanity, Serena."

Even now, I thought exhaling long and hard.

Little by little, my eyes closed. My entire body shook with anxiety. The stretch of silence made me want to take it all back, made me want to lobotomize myself.

Serena moved. Every cell in my body fired up with craving for her.

Maybe wishes did come true, because her palm settled on my shoulder. My eyelids flew open. She was shaking.

"Did you practice that? It was sort of perfect." It left her, in a breathless whisper. Eyes leveled with hers, I choked on a mirthless laugh. "Phillip, you're... God. Why did you have to say those things?"

A hand curled into a fist. Nodding once, I relinquished my hold on her chin.

"Phillip?"

Her confusion washed right off me, like water sliding down a window. Bitterness crept along, twisting itself around my heart, creating a stronghold so it wouldn't bleed out.

"I get it."

Startled, Serena shook her head, frowning.

"Get what? I didn't say..."

"Believe me," I bit out. "I get it. I'm not good enough. I'm never good enough."

Serena's face scrunched, deeper in confusion. Her arms dropped at her sides as anger shot past her eyes. Why did she get to be angry?

"Stop putting words in mouth! I never said anything about you not being good enough. Seriously, Phill, that insecurity complex ticks me off."

Head snapping her way, I felt a faint palpitation among a shipwreck of emotions. I snuffed it quickly, managing a bitter smile.

"Well, the last thing I want is to piss you off. I'll take my insecurities elsewhere."

A firm tug surprised me, propelling me a step closer to her. Serena's eyes were pools of uncanny strength, walls of fire raged deep within her filling me with awe and pride.

Fuck.

I was starting to get why Cameron didn't want to let Nina in. I was all over the place.

"You're a jackass."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. Sounded mad as a hatter, but hey, it was better than setting the whole forest on fire.

"Let me get this straight," I said, chuckling into dark territory. "I just confessed I have feelings—weird, deep-rooted, feelings for you—and that makes me a jackass?"

"No!" She yelled, punching my gut. Jesus. Girl was something fierce. "You're a jackass because you're not letting me talk. You draw assumptions based on your fears."

"Then talk!" I growled, cupping her cheeks in an unshakable grip, eyes boring into hers.

Taking a steadying breath, Serena's hands climbed up my arms until they covered my hands.

Thoughts slithered down an invisible drain. Worries, fears, bad memories... They all went away. Her lips were softer than I could've ever imagined.

Serena was kissing me—she'd kissed me.

A shaky sigh escaped right before I spiced things up. Kissing her back, wholeheartedly. She was wearing lipstick, it made our mouths slide over one another with incredible ease. My tongue scurried over her bottom lip, hurriedly, wanting in. Wanting to taste every inch. Serena complied.

A groan left me as her fingers sifted through my hair, sinking in. My hands left her face, arms tangled around her waist, closing the distance. Our chests heaved against each other. Fingers skidded over one of my cheeks—I kissed her harder, enjoying the soft sounds she made.

Arms locked around my neck, she pulled back, eyes slipping open.

"Phillip," she sighed out, leaning on my chest. My hold tightened. No girl had ever fit so perfectly against me. "Oh, Phillip..."

I rested my chin on her head, fighting a losing war to get my breathing in check. Would it be awkward if I started singing and dancing?

"This... I don't want to hurt you." She said softly.

Lifting my head, I brought a hand up, tilting her face upward. Her eyes were glimmering with undeniable joy, but there was something underneath it. Worry.

"Do you have feelings for me?"

"I... Yes." She sounded confused. I got why. This little demonstration had spoken for itself.

"Then why would you hurt me?" The shattered heart pieces had mended quickly, it was beating faster than I could run.

"Because..." she hushed, rubbing her face into my chest. "I'm a Witch, Phillip. You're a Nephilim."

"So? I don't care." I smoothed her hair behind her ears. "You could be a Cambion for all I cared."

Her gaze went wide.

"You're kidding."

I grinned boyishly.

"Nope. Although, if you were a Cambion you'd probably want to kill me, not kiss me." Her cheeks reddened. "Seriously though, I'd give anything to feel like I do right now. It's like my soul slipped outside and is dancing around a bonfire."

There was a faint tip of her lips just before her mouth opened in a silent gasp. On cue, I grabbed her arms.

"Serena..."

"Oh my God," she husked, smiling. "You're a genius."

I found myself smiling broadly. "Well, thanks." Although... "Why is that, exactly?"

Chuckling, she stood on her toes, ghosting her lips on mine. My tongue flicked out, tasting her sweetness very briefly. I felt like pouting but Serena was beaming so goddamned much I settled for holding her cheeks.

She skipped for her purse, pulling out a small notebook and pen. She scribbled quickly before running back to me, putting a finger to her lips, handing it over.

I know how to save your brother. Let's go somewhere where HE can't hear.

An accelerating ray of hope grew, branching from my heart, spreading in my veins.

Lucifer was in the house, with Nina—if my hearing was accurate.

"Feel like going on a hike?"

***

Nina's POV

Etna is your ancestor. She's a Nephilim.

"Are you on crack?" I asked, blinking.

Lucifer's laughter boiled my blood until my veins fizzed like Cola.

"This isn't funny. Do you realize what you just told me? That somewhere out there I have... family. A person you want me to hand over for unknown reasons?" My heart pounded—family. Breathing got a little tougher. "How... Cameron and Phillip were the last born Nephilim. Angels say they're the only living ones."

"Technically, they are." My thoughts knotted into a giant confusion ball of yearn. "Etna was born... a while back. No one knows her whereabouts. Virtues can't sense her. Magic can't locate her. The only way to find her," Lucifer dangled the little bag between us, eyes sharp. "Is for you to use what's in here, tap into the past and tell me where she is."

I shook my head—a wince snuck out. Damn neck injury.

"Wait. Just how long ago was she born?" Lips tightly sealed, Lux closed his eyes. "I want my questions answered! You told me you knew about my family—so tell me."

"In 1849." I straightened. Eyes open, he faced me. "Etna Hallewell and Elia Hallewell were born in England, 6th of October of 1849. Daughter to Ariel, a Dominion and Callen Hallewell, a human."

"Elia? There are two of them?"

"No. Elia is your great, great, great, great-something grandmother. Etna is your great, great, great—"

"They're old. Got it."

"—aunt." He finished anyway.

"How's it possible she's still somewhere? Nephilim are mortal." Nephilim weren't rocking the immortal soul deal. That was reserved for Angels, Fallens and Cambions.

"True. Elia is dead, as it should be. Etna... isn't." I leaned forward, crossing my legs. Lucifer turned on his side, propping himself on one elbow, he stared at me. "Open this." He tossed the velvet bag my way.

I caught the worn thing, feeling the once soft surface, rugged. Driven by eagerness, I nearly tore the sack apart, fishing for its contents. Out came a ring. It looked vintage—old. Yet, beautiful. In the center, was a brilliant, mystic oval stone. Inside it, colors melted between blue topaz and fiery red. It looked an impossible combination. A finger pad traced the bronze shank. It was decorated with cut-out shapes.

"It's..." I trailed off, rubbing my finger on the crystal seeing if it burned. Nope, silly me. "Really beautiful."

Once I managed to look up, Lucifer was grinning.

"That crystal is special. It's called Ethereal Crystal." He sat, crossing his arms. I resisted ogling Cam's muscles as they strained against the dark sweatshirt. "Do you know the history of Witches?"

Dayum interrupted, I closed my fingers around the ring. Witches? I barely knew a thing about my family, how should I know...

There was one thing.

"Cameron told me Witches are humans who can sense and manipulate the energy around us. He said something about his Dad passing on the info on 'how to'."

"That's the origin of Witches in a nutshell. God was around this Universe a while after creating humans—what to me is a while, to you is hundreds of lifetimes, though. Witches appeared just before He vanished. But what is Magic? This energy only Witches can see and use?" I leaned back my head, feeling a pounding in my temple. "Immortals can never truly die. You can kill our physical bodies but our souls will roam forever. Not as one independent soul, the separate being we once were, but as something bigger. A current of energy that only Witches can tap into."

Crap on a cracker.

"Before Witches, the flow of energy—of immortal souls—was abundant. So much that it materialized in the form of a crystal." He nodded with his chin to my closed hand. "Ethereal Crystal is rare nowadays, because Witches channel the immortal souls' energy. But Ethereal isn't just pretty to look at. It's unbreakable. A Witch can mold it, harness it's power—but nothing can scratch it. And it can conserve anything."

"Con... Conserve?"

"Yes," Lucifer sighed, as if annoyed with my lack of knowledge. "If a Witch molds Ethereal to trap something—someone—inside it, whatever it is will never change. A human, for example, trapped inside Ethereal Crystal would never age. Not their body, not their soul. It would be like they were sleeping."

Holy Christ.

I had no words.

Puzzle pieces connected themselves before I thought about relating any facts. They were easy to sort out, staring me in the face. Etna was still around, after years, Ethereal Crystal could preserve anyone, Witches could mold it and Lucifer had gotten trapped after killing a Witch—a Witch who'd done something for him...

A loose strand tickled my cheer as I stared, blinking.

"She's trapped in this?" I lifted the ring, pointing the Crystal toward him. "That's how she's alive, isn't it?"

A corner of Cameron's lips ticked.

"The Ethereal piece she's in is much larger, but yes. Have I told you you're smart?"

Ignoring cheap compliments, I practically hopped off bed like someone lit a match under my butt. Lucifer's ashen gaze seemed unfazed, a little amused, while I imagined I looked panicked and slightly hyperventilating.

"Let me see if I got the four one one," I managed with a heavy inhale. "One of my Nephilim ancestor is supposedly alive. Trapped in some sort of Crystal created by large sums of energy."

"If you take out 'supposedly' you've got the four one one down."

His shit eating grin did not help maintain calmness.

"I'm also supposed to find this distant relative so you can do whatever it is you've got lined up in that sick, twisted brain of yours?" What bothered me was the lack of argument my own mind was supplying, almost like there was no debating the issue.

"Biscuit, don't dramatize. She's a long lost relative—her sister started your bloodline of Psychics, sure, but you hardly care, do you? I doubt you'd be stupid enough to trade the life of the boy you find yourself so deeply, irrevocably in love with for someone you've never met. She might even be a serial killer." I ground my teeth and he chortled, pissing me off. "Not all Nephilims are good."

Just like not all Angels fit the category of peace keepers, saviors and kindhearted good guys.

I stood in front of Lux, arms shoved over my chest. Logic, family values I'd been raised with, dictated that I fought him. An urge to refute that I would not be helping him find my great-great-old-something aunt sprung forth, only to die right on my tongue. Cam and me... we had something strong. Beyond anything I'd ever felt—it was this gravitating pull, an attraction on too many levels to lay bare.

Impossible to explain.

Giving him up would be killing a piece of myself. While my heart was filled with holes, leaky and broken by all that I'd lost and by boundaries I'd crossed, my soul was whole. I wouldn't tear us apart.

Love felt selfish this once, I thought, feeling frost bite cracking another heart piece.

My eyes widened at the suddenness of Lucifer standing, hovering too close. I wouldn't take any steps back, I willed my body to lock up. Only once I did, I wished I hadn't because every muscle felt paralyzed with both repulse and longing.

Cameron was inside. My skin pulsed, dying for his touch.

"I'll take your silence as a sign that you'll start working on finding her." A smirk tilted a mouth corner into creating a sexy dimple. Damn, I almost couldn't speak when he brushed past me. Cam's dimples were rare, like his epic smiles.

Whirling on time to see him leaving, I asked, "Was that what the Witch did for you, the one you killed?"

Tousled hair flew over slate eyes, making it severely complex for me to get a read on his emotions. This was something Cameron did often. My nails bit into my palms.

"Like I said, it's better if you see for yourself."

Then he left. Leaving me alone with a ring I wanted to cradle and surf through memories until I found what Lucifer wanted. Still, I couldn't quite shake the note I'd heard in his voice. It was the tone Cam used when we were alone, the soft timber that slipped on only when he talked to me.