Ethereal

Nina's POV

I twisted my body, shifting, moving my head. There was no going back to sleep.

Almost four in the morning.

I grumpily rubbed my heavy head. Eyes weighing the same as sand bags, I stared at the ceiling.

Having no idea what woke me up, I threw back the sheet, blanket and duvet, rolling out of bed. The initial temp change caused tiny shivers along my arms. I hugged myself, going for the bedroom door. The hallway was dark, the only light came from the stairs bottom. My hands felt along the wall for a door on the left. I knew I'd find an empty room before I poked in.

Not a single shred of unnatural warmth along my neck. No Cameron.

I went in, anyway. Cameron had been hunting every night. Phillip going along made my heart beat a little easier.

I stumbled to Cameron's softy bed, tugging covers back, wiggling in. At a rate that made me wonder if I was obsessed with him, I found the pillow with his scent. Eucalyptus, safe and welcoming.

I snuggled it.

Being surrounded by all that was his, helped with the antsy thoughts. That boy's dead face kept circling me, like a vulture waiting for its prey to die. His complexion had been paper-white. The TV report had only shown it for fifteen seconds.

And it was going to stay forever in my memory volt.

A person was dead because of Sam. Because of us. Cameron had been rightfully angry, wanting to rip her piece by piece. Phillip had gotten home shades greener, feeling as nauseous as I had. I still was. But... we couldn't do it. Killing Sam would make us monsters, just like the Rebels who'd killed our families because they'd wanted a problem taken care of.

I wouldn't be Helena. My hands balled up, holding the comforter close. Samantha was overwhelmed with Power, plus, her morals weren't that high. I refused to think she was that stone-cold, killing a human just to keep nifty abilities, feeding something horrendous.

I inhaled Cam's earthly scent, doing my best to go under. Gears shifted, though. Problem-Sam gave way to Problem-Cameron. Not that there was a problem per se, unless his flares of anger, arrogance and even tiredness were a problem.

Cam was moodier than the Grumpy Cat. Fact. But ever since his little showdown with Phillip, since Raphael told him to play nice, he'd been reeling. Okay, honestly, I wanted to kick Raphael and Michael where it counted.

Cameron wasn't Heaven's mercenary. Neither was Phill.

But there was more, it felt like there was. I couldn't put my finger on it, but even today at our three-hour training, he'd been exhausted. Hadn't opened his mouth complaining, but I'd seen dark bruises under his eyes.

I bit my lip, eyes starting to fall on their own.

The thing was, by now, Cameron knew he could tell me anything. He'd told me about killing his father. His darkest secret. If anything out of ordinary was going on, he'd say something.

Right?

Sometime during the night, I thought I felt a string of fiery goodness running over my spine. There'd also been coolness against my cheek and heat as my body rolled somewhere. Or maybe I dreamed all of it because when I woke up, the bed was empty.

Soft light came through the blinders. The alarm on Cam's bedside shone angry red numbers, telling me to get my butt out of bed.

It felt like I hadn't slept at all.

Looking over the room, I called, "Cam?" No answer. And the shower beyond the arch wasn't running.

Getting up, I ran—in fluffy pj's—downstairs, checking the parlor room and kitchen. No tall, dark and handsome, either. Resisting to stomp my way up, I wondered where the hell was he. Had he even slept? Come home?

Peeking into Phillip's room, I saw him asleep, like the night we returned. Only today, I walked in, shaking his broad shoulders.

Mumbling incoherent nonsense, Phill shifted his head, causing fiery hair to cover shut eyelids.

"Phillip," I hissed smacking a tattooed shoulder. He jerked aside. "Phillip!" I all but screamed in his ear.

His head lazily lifted, eyes sleepily drinking me in. "...Serena..?" He whispered, velvety voice scratchy.

Serena—? Oh, sweet baby Jesus. I didn't have time for this.

"No, not Serena. Nina." At my clarification, his eyes went saucer-sized. "Did Cameron come home with you last night?"

Sitting up, he wiped a groggy look, blinking several times, mumbling "what?"

"Cameron—did he come home or not?" My arms dropped, exasperation coating every inch of me.

"Ah, sure. We came in around four. Why?"

"He's not home," I toyed with my fingers while he pulled out of bed. "Was he alright? Were you guys hurt—"

"We were fine, Nina, chill." Chill. Seriously? I had an urge to stomp his foot. "He does this sometimes, leaves earlier."

Yes, I knew that. Phillip complained over it months ago.

"But he's been so tired..."

"Cam does what he wants. You've spent enough time with him to know how his head works." Phillip stood before me barrel-chested, sweat pants hanging low. I stepped back, faintly blushing. "You can try calling him, I doubt he'll pick up. Rarely does," his back bowed as he stretched long arms up. "He likes time off."

Time off.

"Time off?" My voice came out small. "From... me?"

Looking all kinds of uncomfortable, Phillip flipped his sandy-hair.

"Look," I met his eyes. "Why don't you go get ready? I'll make us breakfast."

Phillip was forcing himself to be his old-self and I should've happy-danced. But all I did was nod, turning for the door, and as I walked back into my room, the words hit me like a mantra:

From me. From me. From me—I sucked in a sharp breath. I had to be overreacting—I was. Cameron's life didn't revolve around me, just like mine didn't revolve around him. Except... yesterday, even before we learned Sam had killed the college guy, he'd been distant. These last seven days, he'd been teaching me how to fight and let's just say he usually touched places he shouldn't—nothing like that happened yesterday.

I stared mutely at my cell-phone. Call, don't call?

With heaviness in my chest, I dropped the phone inside my backpack.

I wasn't going to be the stalker-whiny-girlfriend.

***

Phillip could make bacon and eggs like a pro. He'd made mine extra crispy. Yum. The leftover flavor quickly turned sour on my way to Bio.

Sam was talking to Daren in the middle of the hall.

Forcing rage back, fingers curled harder on my bag's strap. Not like I could walk up and rip Samantha away, yelling 'killer'.

She fluttered her eyes as I passed, taunting me. Maybe I didn't want her dead, but my hand was itching. Tsking, I tried hurrying to class, already ten minutes late.

I was about twenty feet from room 212, when heavy footfalls came up behind me. A hand latched roughly onto my shoulder. It wasn't another tardy student—it was Daren.

His hair wasn't gelled today, falling at eye-level, in waves. The stupid side of me, thought it was a much better look. My back rammed into a wall between locker rows, a soft gasp made it out.

"Daren..." This felt too much like my first day at Julian Ivory.

Slowly, I focused eyes on his, understanding something was off. Daren's eyes were misty, unfocused, he wasn't acting of his own accord. I didn't have a minute to glare at the culprit, though. He pushed the hand on my shoulder down, moving to the middle of my chest.

Every muscle locked as his fingers hovered inches from my boobs. Not cool.

Sniggering came from the middle of the hall. My idea of letting her live swayed onto the kill-side.

"What do you think you're doing?" I smacked a hand into his ribs. There was a strange grin on his face.

"Just trying to figure out what those two got so hung up on. Sam wants to know." Tone on the mechanic side, I began twisting at the waist, trying to slip right—the football player's palm pressed down harder, my bones poked skin. "Keep still, babe."

"No, get off me—!" His other hand cut me off.

Kicking in a frenzy, a knee smacked his goods. A slap met my cheek, turning me over. Pain flared across my temples as I clung to a locker, wobbling.

"Feisty thing," Daren tugged me back—by my hair. Yelping, my eyes caught Sam, leaning on a locker watching the show. "Is that why Cameron likes you?" A heavy chest pressed all over my back, forcing me face-first into metal.

The skin above my jean's hem bristled. God, he was... his hand was slipping under my sweater—every instinct fired. Danger. I tried to hit Daren with any fancy move I'd learned—I just couldn't get it right and his fingers were trailing along my spine, too close to...

A whimper was cut off by a dry thud. Mr. Grabby Hands was pulled off, leaving me to slide against the lockers, breathing heavily. I clutched a hand to my chest.

"You sick bastard," Cameron growled, making Daren bite the floor. "I always knew you had a death wish—but this?" Rage leaked from his stance, legs widespread, towering above my abuser. He bent down, menacingly. "I should kill you right here, right now."

Daren—who'd gotten a nice split lip—looked over at me. His eyes were wide, chest rising and falling quickly.

The trance was broken.

"Man—I didn't—I'm sorry..." He stammered all over, eyeing me and Cameron. Not sure what was happening. "I swear I don't know—"

"Don't look at her," Cam's fingers grasped the collar of his teammate's shirt, propelling closer. "Don't you dare. You so much as look at her—come in five feet of her again? I'll rip your fucking liver out. You got that?"

Daren didn't get that. He was still staring my way, muttering out apologies for something he'd basically had no control over.

"...she said I should do it—if I wanted her—Sam, she..."

Cam's hand wrapped around Daren's throat in a severe grip. Daren's feet kicked, as Cam lifted him up, grip going stronger.

"Cameron..." I rasped. "Cameron," I tried louder. Still no reaction.

My heart pounded limitlessly—at this rate, he'd crush Daren's windpipe.

"Cam—Cam!" I cried, reacting by standing and grabbing his shoulders. "Let him go, you'll kill him." A soft gurgle left Daren's mouth. "You're killing him—it's what she wants. Sam's messing with you, stop."

My shoulders hunched as Cam's frenemy hit the floor like a flour sack. My boyfriend's handprint tattooed Daren's throat. His chest rose and fell so hard I expected it to pop.

"Get out of my sight." I doubled my hold on Cam's shoulders. "Before I really lose my head." Daren found the energy to scurry down the hall, sneakers screeching.

The obnoxious giggle made me storm up to that good for nothing Demon-possessed bitch.

"You," I couldn't get words out. Just... the satisfied smirk on her lips caused nausea inside me. "You killed that boy yesterday."

"Yep. He was the first I actually ate all the way. Very tasty." She sickened me. "It did wonders for my complexion, don't you notice?" Sam tapped her cheek softly, I barely saw anything but red. How could she talk about a human being like that? Like he'd been food?

"I really hope that's the Succubus talking." It came out as an afterthought, but her eyes snapped, both amused and attentive.

"So, you know what my new friend is? Did you and your lovers figure it out on your own or did you have help?" I squinted my eyes in a scowl. Help? Just how much did she know about us—about everything? "You're aura's orange... You're afraid."

My what? I stared at her, gobsmacked.

Hovering a nail very close to my cheek, gleefully, she said, "Don't tell me you didn't know? It's the funniest thing. Well, no, that's a lie. The funniest thing is making boys do anything I want—but I can see auras. An aura is projected by your soul, it allows me to know how you're feeling. Depending on its color."

I bet it was useful when she wanted to influence someone.

"What's so funny?" I asked, when she began grinning like Harley Quinn.

Her gaze scampered over my shoulder, "I can read everyone's emotions. Everyone only feels one thing at a time. Everyone but him." A pressure in my chest was what made me look behind, apprehension molding into concern.

Cameron was bracing himself on a locker, head bent.

"I think you should worry more about your quarterback instead of worrying who we feed on."

"What are you doing to him?" Against all judgment, I smacked a hand on Sam's chest. She was forced back a step.

For a second, I savored the ripple of shock.

"We're not doing anything, sugar. We don't need to." She stepped aside, ready to leave somewhere.

I let her.

Heart hammering, I ran to Cameron as he stumbled, gripping his head. Kneeling in front of him, I saw a teacher poke his head outside a classroom. Now they showed up?

Cam kept his head down, strategically. Ice grew in my stomach.

"Cam, look at me." I asked gently. He breathed in and out shakily. I bit my lip. "What's wrong?"

He tilted his head so I could see. It wasn't his right eye that scared the ever loving crap out of me, it was the left. It was gray. Gray instead of black.

Gunmetal-gray. I shivered.

Several things swirled in my head at once. He was in there—inside Cameron! Hadn't the ritual been interrupted? Coming up with theories would have to wait, the teacher was walking out and a steady stream of students pooled behind him.

I needed to get out of here.

"Keep your head down," I hissed. "Let's go." I helped him to his feet, dodging curious eyes.

Keeping an arm around Cameron wasn't the easiest task, but I launched us into a bathroom—locking the door. I eased him against the sink with a oof.

"My God, Cameron..." I began as his fingers dug deeper into his hair. "He's... His soul is..."

It made sense that Sam couldn't read his emotions. If auras were projected by souls, and each soul had one... Cameron had two souls. Two auras. She had no idea which emotions were his and—she'd known before any of us. That another soul was inside him. The Succubus had to know.

"I know," he said plainly, like I'd just told him the Beatles were the greatest rock band in history.

"You know." I repeated, eyeing him squarely. "How long have you known?" He coursed a hand through his sweat-matted hair. Stepping closer, I breathed each word slowly, "How long have you known, Cameron?"

He sighed.

"Nina—"

"Don't 'Nina' me!" I exploded inches from his face, forgetting the people who could be outside, listening in. "Was it since we got back? How long did it take you to figure out you were harboring a psychopath's soul, huh? And why the hell didn't you tell me?"

"I knew since the day Raphael popped in—when the headaches started, the mood swings... The blackouts." My blood ran thinly cold.

"Black... blackouts?"

"Yeah," Cam rubbed his neck, left eye still tinted in shades of gray. "I had a few. Small ones at first—few minutes. But yesterday..."

Phillip's phone call hit me in the stomach. Cameron hadn't had a single wound, he'd been tired, but fine.

"You didn't kill those Demons, did you?"

Gathering a shuddering breath, Cameron shook his head. Cameron was skilled, Powerful—but he had nothing on Lucifer's century-old moves.

"Lucifer... He..." my lips pursed. This could not be happening right now. Not when there was a Succubus on the loose, not when we'd just— "No, tell me... Say it's not true, that I'm having a really bad dream or... or it's a joke." A really bad one. But I'd forgive him, I'd...

"I can't."

My hand moved fast as a cobra's strike and I did something I should've done with Daren. I put all the strength behind the swing—Cam's face snapped aside. There was bottomless silence, harsh breathing from both of us followed. The icy fright in my heart had long ago melted, blood now pumped with poking-hot outrage and betrayal.

"How could you?" I dropped my stinging hand. "You knew for a whole week—you knew, and you let me think everything was alright! How could you—"

He jerked his head towards mine, two blocks of black ice stared back at me. Cameron grasped my hand, preventing another slap.

"I didn't tell you anything," his grip tightened but I didn't wince. "Because we were happy and I wanted you to stay happy, Nina."

I jerked my hand, he let go, "Don't make this about me just because it'll make it easier for you."

"This is not easy!" In a flash, his fist found a mirror, smacking it. Glass cracked, letting shards fall over the floor, sinks, some dug themselves into Cameron's knuckles—bleeding ones. We shared a look. Cam's nostrils flared, "This is not easy." He held out his hand and I saw it was shaking, twitching out of his control.

The embedded shards fell out as his Power healed him.

"You should've told me," hair fell forward, shadowing my face.

"There's enough problems."

My hands fisted, "I don't care if the world was ending! You should've told me."

Smirking coldly, he cocked his head.

"Okay, fine. Lucifer's soul is inside me, Nina. Now what? What can you do?" A lump refused to go down. "See? There's nothing you can do."

"That's a low blow."

"It's reality," Cam stepped over glass, crunching it under his boots. "You can be angry all you want, but if this hadn't happened? You still wouldn't know."

My chest fell as I heaved a long breath.

"Why?"

Frustration got hold of him and his hands shot out, clasping my cheeks.

"Because I love you!"

We stared into each other's eyes, unblinking. Utter shock ripped me apart, then something very warm sprouted from the middle of my chest. It spread like an infection, touching ever part of me, calming the anger.

Cameron's mouth parted, silently thinking, looking into space. This wasn't the way I'd imagined it. I never thought Cameron would say he loved me—for the first time—in a bathroom, across from a bloody broken mirror, or that inside him would be the Devil's soul.

Things usually weren't how we imagined them, were they?

I wanted nothing more than to kiss him. But he'd done wrong. He was supposed to trust me with anything.

Cam looked at me like he was staring at the barrel of a gun. I knew it before I turned away—I knew I'd just hurt him more than he'd ever hurt me.

Unlocking the door, I stopped, placing a hand on it. I glanced over my shoulder, eyes heavy with determination and sorrow.

"I don't want you to protect me," I pushed away the events from minutes ago, breathing shakily. "I wanted you to trust me—"

"I do," he husked, eyes on the broken glass.

"Obviously you don't. You don't think I can handle this—what's happening to you." If I stood there longer, I wouldn't be able to take it. I'd forgive him and run into his arms and whisper—my throat locked. "I went to Hell with you and we made it—I made it. You never kept anything from me then."

Cam's head rose quick—not quick enough—I walked out.