Ethereal

Phillip's POV

I handed over the precious four-paged paper on the French Revolution. Mr. Willbur regarded it, then me. He stroked his old-timer beard.

"I don't give many opportunities to make up for lost work, Phillip." I sighed inwardly, nodding at the sternness in his voice. "Don't let it happen again."

"I won't, sir." I saw the class room filling up. Daren caught my eye right before he sat down. I wanted to smirk. His nose cane didn't look very straight. "Will this still count as extra credit?" There were more important things than my handy work.

Like my B at History.

My teacher's old eyes wandered from a stack of papers to me, like he hadn't noticed me still standing there. With his old age, maybe he hadn't.

"'Cause... I really need to keep my B—for the Basketball team." I added.

"We all really need something in life, don't we? Take a seat, Phillip."

I hovered there like a demented idiot, for ten more seconds, before making my way to the double-seat desk by the window. Cameron was already there, only he wasn't rocking back in his chair like usually.

My bag hit the table with a loud thud. Cam's head shot up.

"Sleeping in class?" I pulled out my chair, sinking down. "Do you want old-man Willbur to pop a vessel?"

Rubbing his face, my brother reached for his bag, taking out his stuff.

Too bad these desks were for two; too bad we sat together since freshman year; too bad Nina was my Ex. Because if one of us changed seats everyone would think something was up, and since no one knew our dream vacation had been in Hell, they'd assume it was because I was angry about Cam dating Nina.

Which I wasn't. I'd practically pushed them together.

Anyway, enough rumors had circulated about Nina. I wouldn't give them more to print out.

Willbur wrote NAPOLEONIC ERA on the eraser board. He made a diagram, categorizing this era as the fourth and final stage of the Revolution. More blood and death. I rolled my eyes wondering why I'd enrolled myself in European History.

I looked to the left. Yeah, because Cameron had. And I usually ended up following him.

Crack.

I looked down. The number two pencil in my hand was now in half. I let it go.

Looking up, I saw Cameron staring.

"I'm fine." I said thickly.

"Tell that to your pencil." He shook his head, eyes slinking back to the black board.

I propped my head on a fist. Breathe in, breathe out, was what I told myself for the next couple of minutes. It wasn't until our teacher started asking questions that I paid attention, again. What the heck was the National Assembly? Whatever it was, Zeke didn't know, either. But of course, leave it to Cameron to know what the Cisalpine Republic was.

Mr. Willbur turned sights to me—saved by the bell. Yes!

When everything was packed, I moved with the rest of class for the door—

"Phillip?" Until Mr. Wilbur crashed and burned my hopes. I walked to his desk, shifty. "I thought about your question, about you still receiving extra credit? I think it wouldn't be fair. You had more time to put this together," he waved at my paper. "All your class maters handed theirs before dead-line and you missed even that."

"So... no extra credit?"

"I'll grade your paper, but you won't be getting an extra—no." My fingers closed harder on the bag's strip. "Maybe you'll have another opportunity."

"But I need to keep a B to play." I hated that my voice came out wistfully. But I'd do anything to play.

"I'm sorry," he shook his head. "You should've been more responsible."

I'd been responsible! I'd been studying my ass off so I could turn in the damn thing. Until Cameron got bitten by a freaking Cambion. Until I got dragged into Hell.

Yeah, I was really irresponsible for saving my brother's life.

Cameron was leaning on the opposite wall, once I made it outside the class room. My eyes rolled.

"You don't have to keep an eye on me."

"I'm not keeping an eye on you." He pushed away, putting us a foot apart. "I can talk him into giving you extra credit—"

"I don't need you to." I cut him off, a strange feeling stirring inside me. "I don't want your help. I just want you to back off. Can you do that?"

Flinching, my brother dropped back a step, looking behind me.

"If that's what you want..."

"It's what I want."

He nodded, eyes absent, "Have it your way, then." Was the last thing he said before walking off, calmly.

A calm-Cameron was a furious-Cameron.

Two weeks ago, I would've taken Cam's offer. No questions. I would've annoyed him until he did it—so why couldn't I do it now? Why couldn't I be that person?

***

Three classes, a lunch break, and two more classes later, I finally got down to the gym. The team was practicing hoops from different ranges once I got there. Some dudes from the football team played, too. Zeke was one of them. Unfortunately, so was Daren.

"Look who decided to pays us a visit!" Coach Adams took me in, hands on his hips. His mouth turned down when some players stopped practicing to look over. "Did I tell you to stop, Callen? Get back to shooting!"

The guy scurried off to find a ball. Daren ran by me, giving a glare. Right back at 'ya, buddy.

"Why aren't you in training clothes, Leale?" He barked, crossing his arms.

"You wanted to talk to me, sir?" Coach Adams wasn't known for his memory.

He grumbled something, motioning me to follow. As we left the gym, Coach yelled at them to do suicide runs. I could hear sneakers squeak on the waxed pavement, even as Coach Adams closed his office door.

"You know why I wanted to talk to you, Leale?" He let an inch file with my name fall on his desk.

I winced.

"I have a pretty good guess, Coach." I didn't bother sitting. It would just prolong the situation. "It's about my grades."

"You're damn right it's about your grades! Color me surprised when I learn that my best player just lost his C average!" He flipped open my dossier where my grades from last semester waved snarkly at me. Fire clawed at my veins. Oh, I wanted to burn some paper. "C at English, C at European History, F in Geography—" I swallowed. "C at Psychology and... B at Economics?"

I said nothing. My hands simply tightened on the chair's back.

"You had a 2.0 GPA before the semester ended, now, you have 1.80!" Coach Adams was known for being a loud talker. Once, he made a girl cry. True story. "Now, I'm not going to go ahead and call you stupid—but are you stupid?"

Hmm, let's see. Going over the past few weeks... Yes, I was very stupid.

"No, sir."

"Then what's gotten into you? I never had this problem with your brother. He gets aggressive and I bench him. But this... You're not benched. You can't play until you lift one of these grades!" It had to come back to Cameron. Everything always did.

"Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Believe me, son, if there was anything I could do, I'd do it. I've got twelve boys out there and only two don't make me wanna hang myself." One of them was Zeke. "So, as much as it kills me to say this, you can't play. You're… off the team."

I couldn't play. Because I'd missed the fucking deadline on that History report. Because I'd lost my B. Fuck Mr. Willbur. Fuck me.

"Do you have your equipment in there?" Coach Adams nodded to my bag, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah…"

"Well," he closed my file, getting up. "The rules say you can't be on the team, but there's nothing against you joining practice."

I tapped a finger on my bag strap. It wasn't the same as playing games... but it would help. And right now, it was all I had. I was pretty quick running for the locker room. Once I ran out onto the field, not even Daren's presence knocked me down.

The minute a ball was in my hands, trouble faded away. I knew exactly what to do before I did it. The first ten minutes, I scored hoops. Next, Coach Adams made me Point Guard. It was my usual position—no biggie.

It was one-on-one.

Basically, I had to stand in front of the Three-Point Line and stop the guy coming my way.

The dribbles—were what I always focused on—the dibbles and the ball position. If you could anticipate where it was going next, half of your job was cut out for you. My gut never failed.

The first one tried to make a pass by going from right to left. That was all too predictable. Before he got one foot in the half-court, I snatched the ball from his hands. Next thing he knew, dude was dribbling air.

I chuckled, passing the ball to the next victim.

Everything went smoothly until Zeke's turn. He actually put up a defense. He shot from the Free Throw Line. I jumped, smacking the ball from course.

"Better luck next time."

He threw the ball at me, grinning. I threw it at Daren—the next in line.

Everything told me to knock him on his ass, but the last thing I needed was for Coach Adams to revoke my training card. So, I just stole the ball like I'd been doing so far.

By the time Coach Adams whistled, my Jersey was clinging to my back and my shorts were glued all over. It made things down there pretty itchy.

"All right ladies practice's over! Hit the showers!" Coach Adams called.

Wiping my hair line, I jogged into the locker room. I stripped out of my sweaty clothes, dumping them in my gym bag. Grabbing a towel and shampoo, I went into the showers.

I turned the water all the way to hot. Steam crawled out the shower head before water hit my head, it slid down my nape, my shoulders blades—every ripple of skin. Showering with a row of guys had never bothered me. It was just a matter of knowing your sexuality.

I damn well knew mine.

Anyway, I never stayed under a shower for so long. Not even at home. When it felt like I'd finally woken up, I rinsed off and toweled-up. Back in the lockers, just two guys were left. I grabbed for my clean clothes, taking another towel to dry off my hair. I could just heat my body up, but having witnesses never ended well.

I stuck with human procedure.

Two minutes later, I was alone, slipping on my jeans and Tee. When I was sitting on the bench, putting my boots on, giggles came from behind the next row of lockers. Happy giggles.

I shook my head with a smirk. Some lucky dog—there were a couple of more groans, but what made frown was the voices. One of them was Daren's. Yuck. The other one... it felt like Sam's. But... sultrier and raspy.

It did something really strange deep down. Like really down below.

Pushing the feeling off, I messed my hair out of my eyes. I zipped up my gym bag...

Those weren't happy sounds anymore. Not unless they were into suffocation stuff.

That's when the air became thicker. Saturated. Power—someone was using it. Not a small amount, either.

Dropping the bag, I marched behind the lockers.

Samantha's back was to me, Daren was sprawled on the bench... head immobilized by her hands on either side of his face, his eyes were wide open, unflinching. Something... something was definitely wrong.

Starting with the immense Power wafting off her, and her long curved nails.

Speeding forward, I tossed Sam off him. The impact dented a locker.

"Daren?" The jerk-off didn't move. At least his eyes had closed.

I whipped around, catching a lunging Samantha by the throat. I pinned her to the damaged locker. What I saw stunned me out of my wits.

Her eyes were white. Completely and utterly... white.

"What the hell?" I had a sudden urge to stand five feet away from her.

Samantha didn't try pushing me or my hand. Instead, she let slip the wicked eyes, and retracted the longer nails.

"Phillip," she said, smiling, still in that all-too-sexy tone. "We really don't want to do this." We?

"What are you talking about? Who's—"

Her hand skimmed up my stomach, slowly, and it was like injecting my veins with pure pleasure. She rubbed my chest for a little while. A musky smell took up my nose, lulling me into a daze.

My thoughts were going fast. I remembered feeling this way before... this smell...

Her hand uncurled my fingers from her neck. I let her. She smiled more, cutting the distance between us, and my heart pounded faster.

"Wow, this is so much fun. I've tried this on lots of guys... but you... You're just..." she bit her lip, wrapping her arm around my neck. My eyes darted for her lips. The musky smell grew intense. "Having you like this is such a turn on."

The little part of me that was still sane, wanted to rip her away. The much bigger part wanted to rip her clothes off and have her against the locker.

"I'm not going to feed on you," Sam touched my nose gently. Every touch made me hurt. Hurt from how much I wanted her. "After all, it's because of what you did that we're together. That wouldn't be much of a payment, would it, hot stuff?"

"Sam," I hissed, between daze and reality. "What are you—"

A shadow knocked her over and the smell drifted off, not much, I still felt paralyzed and all my eyes wanted to do was find her.

"Phillip," Cameron's voice broke my muddy thoughts. He shook my shoulders. "Snap out of it, idiot."

I blinked.

"Cam?"

"This really isn't going like we planned. You boys have sucky timing." Sam brushed off her skin-tight sweater. I felt like a fourteen year old virgin tying to use X-Ray vision. "See something you like, sweetie?" Sam grinned deviously at me.

"What did you do to him?" Cameron's hands dropped from my shoulders. He stepped in front of me.

A bubbly laugh left Sam. It chilled my core.

"I thought you two were supposed to be experts on supernatural creatures. Don't you kill them?"

My focus shifted from desire to worry. How did she know that? What the hell was she? She wasn't a Witch. Witches eyes didn't go white. Or use Power. Or grow longer nails. Or do whatever it was she'd been doing to Daren.

"What are you, Sam?" I asked out loud, stepping out of my brother's shadow.

Curling a strand of brown, polished hair around a finger, Sam smiled coyly at us.

"We're not telling." Again with the 'we'. "So much built up tension," she mused suddenly, eyes sliding between us. "I think you boys should work things out. Don't you?"

Cam stopped with the 'asking questions' approach, taking a step forward, "Listen you..."

A strong smell like burning rubber sent my blood pumping quicker, like I'd never experienced before. A bursting anger traveled from my toes to my head. My muscles swelled with Power.

"I'd love to stay for the show..." she shrugged, I could barely hear her over the throbbing blood in my ears.

Suddenly, all I could see was my brother and a whole load of rage tore me inside. The burning smell heightened and a restrain in me just... broke.

An arm wrapped around my brother's neck. His hands grasped for it, trying to pry it off, but I wasn't budging.

"Why do you keep getting in the way, huh?" I hissed into his hear, tightening the head-lock. "You think I can't take care of myself?"

Cameron sent a punch at my forehead. My grip faltered. He made a swipe at my leg, sending me flying to the ground. My head hit a bench corner.

"Can you?" He towered over me, looking as smug as ever. "All these years I've been taking all the crap you wouldn't. I took the blame when you screwed up," he pinned my shoulder to the floor, increasing the pressure by leaning down. "I was the one that Raphael chained inside our basement day after day. I nearly died to get you back!" He yelled, aiming a punch right above my eye. He did it again. "You're being all whiny because you were two weeks in Hell?"

Cam grasped my neck, looking right into my eyes.

"You're pathetic."

I grabbed the hand pinning me down, twisting it. Not satisfied with the crack, I sent my brother sliding across the room's floor. Up in a second, and on top of him in another, I punched him. Again. Again. Again. Watching with strange satisfaction as his head snapped sideways.

"Pathetic? I wasn't the one who let my brother date the girl he liked because he was too afraid of his emotions." I slammed my knee into his gut, tearing a groan from him. "I gave myself up for you," I breathed hard, holding a bloodied fist up. "I saved your life. I went to Hell for you—and you... you can't leave me alone. You're always there—suffocating me!"

I watched blood run down my brother's face, from his nose and mouth. The burning smell still lingered and all it made me want was more. My Power wanted more, too.

Cameron snarled at me. A pure bolt of electricity sent me crashing into a wall. I got to my knees, gasping, eyeing the brunt hole in my Tee. The tear in my stomach healed quickly.

Cam kicked my side viciously. I winced raggedly.

"Maybe you should've just let me die." Cam gripped the back of my T-shirt, flinging me into the wall, kicking my back while he was at it.

The more I breathed, the angrier I got. I took a big breather.

I wasn't even sure how fast I was, just that I grabbed his shoulders bending him down, and at the same time, I lifted my knee smacking it into his face. Cameron stumbled completely disoriented, sliding down a locker.

"Maybe you're right, brother."

"Daren...?" An all-too-familiar voice came from the door way. But it didn't stop me from kneeling before my brother, tugging his head up and— "Cameron!"

My knuckles were beginning to hurt from punching someone as durable as I was. The force I applied on him, was applied right back to me. Physics.

"Phillip! Stop!" Nina's hands took my arm, trying to keep it from moving. It was no use. I kept hitting. Kept feeling bones crack underneath my hands. "Please, stop! Whatever he did... it's enough...! Stop!"

Cry me a river, I thought darkly, watching my brother's chin resting on his chest. Something close to a book smack hit my cheek. My blue eyes slid from my brother to her. I knew her, but it was like all the burning consumed me, all the rage was unstoppable.

I wasn't going to stop. Not until a much stronger hand twisted my arm behind my back. A strange ventilating sensation took up my lungs, taking the burning smell away. Cleaning the air around us, too.

Power was all over the place, but this one I knew.

Between a cough, I glanced back, catching Raphael's eyes.

Nina's POV

I'd spent all morning trying to get Cameron alone, to talk about last night. I'd finally managed to corner him in the parking lot. Then, he took off running inside the school. After a while, I finally got the tingles passing near the gym.

Imagine my surprise when I found Daren sprawled on a bench. Surprise turned into full-fledged horror once I saw Phillip hitting a knocked out Cameron.

I clung to Phill's arm, trying to get him to back off.

The fury in his electric eyes was... overwhelming. I thought Phillip was going to kill him, maybe punch his head so hard it would get ripped off. That's when a strong Power splashed through the air. Phillip got torn away quickly and easily, I gasped.

Raphael was holding the younger brother down. I watched, helpless, as Phill's chest rose hard, like he couldn't get enough air.

My hands found their way to Cam's bloodied shirt. I was afraid of touching his face, of... of hurting him. His skin was beaten, enough for the golden complexion to turn a deep purple. Blood oozed from gashes on his cheeks, chin, lips... It was a disgrace.

"What did you do?" Phillip gasped the words. I looked over a shoulder, Raph had let go of him.

Raphael stepped over Phillip, the younger twin kept breathing hungrily.

"I cleaned out the air. Both in your lungs and around you." He crouched beside me. "Give me some space, please." I found it hard to leave a KO Cameron out in the open. Last time we saw Angels, they'd been sent to drag him to some Trial. And last time we'd seen Raphael... "I'm going to help with his wounds, I won't hurt him."

Taking another glance at Cameron's heavily swollen face, I shifted off to the side, giving Raph access to his fake-nephew. I still remembered how nice it had felt when the Archangel healed my first "war wound". Warm, breezy—like the purest caress in the world. He'd done it by just looking, but now, his hand hovered Cameron's injured face.

It was like watching a movie rewinding. The cuts knitted, the blotches subsided little by little, leaving his face undoubtedly irresistible. The only evidence that he'd been in a fight, was the blood drying off on his skin and clothes.

My hand cupped his face when he stirred, blinking rapidly.

His red-caked lips cracked, "Am I in Hell...?" I saw ebony eyes narrowing on champagne ones.

"Nice to see you, too, Cameron." The Angel smiled the tinniest bit, jerking his head toward Phillip. "I think we need to talk."

Groaning, Cam leaned into my touch. Didn't look like he was a fan of talking right now. Raphael got up and studied Phillip before deciding his wounds weren't as profound, plus, healing was underway.

I glared back and forth.

"What happened in here?"

"Ask Rambo..." Cameron mumbled, gripping his head.

Raph cocked his head, "Are you having a headache?"

"No," he breathed through his teeth. "I'm pretending because it's fun." Cranky-Cameron was in the house. One of Raphael's eyebrows arched. "Yes, I have a house-sized headache."

"That's strange. I healed your outside wounds, your own healing should've taken care of the internal ones—"

"He just got the crap beaten out of him. Give him a while." Phillip butted in, before Cameron burst a few ceiling lights. "We should leave before anyone comes see what the noise was all about. Or he wakes up." Phillip jerked his chin Daren's way.

"What's up with him?" I asked, tentatively brushing Cameron's hair.

The younger twin rubbed his neck before telling us how he'd found Samantha straddling Daren white eyes and all. Raphael walked to Daren's side, bending down, inspecting his pupils.

"It was like... like she had me under this crazy love spell or something. I couldn't think about anything but..." he paused, the explanation.

"Banging her?" Cameron suggested, slyly, enjoying himself once his brother's face flushed. Sounded like his headache was long gone. "Sounds more like lust than love, bro."

I nodded, "And what's with the 'we' thing?" I'd heard about people referring to themselves in the third person, but this? It was too much. Phillip shook his head. "Okay... Well, what happened between you guys?"

The twins actually looked one another in the eyes. It was strange how their eyes and hairs were so distinct, while their faces and bodies were perfect carbon-copies.

"I... I don't know." Phill confessed. "There was just... this sudden smell and I felt..."

"Angry." Cameron completed.

They're gazes weren't letting go of each other. It scared me how intensely they were staring.

Raphael shuffled back to our little group.

"On a body level he's fine. There aren't any injuries." On a body level? "You said the girl's mouth was poised over his—but not touching?"

"Yeah."

A strand of cropped blond hair fell to the middle of Raphael's forehead and he suddenly looked much somber.

"Has any other boy felt sexually attracted to her? On a strange level?"

"Yes!" I answered quickly. The Angel's eyebrows puckered, concerned. "Do you know what she is?"

"Not what she is," he started. "What's inside her."

Cameron finally had enough of sitting, pulling himself up. He leaned on the wall.

"You're saying a Possessor's inside her?"

"Not just any kind of Possessor. A Succubus."