Elle's POV:

Cole and Beelzebub have been trying to catch up with me for the last few minutes. Moniqué is standing at my locker, her attention focused on her phone, which is hiding behind her binder. I gently push her away from the locker, spinning the inlaid knob idly while she talks

"Did you figure out the secret? Cole has choir with you. So does Jeb." She laughs, lightening my mood dramatically.

I nod. "Yep. I know. I also know that when we sing a duet, we cause a riot. And now, I am never singing to myself in front of him again."

She grins evilly. "I know. Someone Snapchatted a video. She turns her screen to face me. The small speakers distorts the sounds, making our voices sound tinny, nut we amazingly still sound...well, amazing. I slide my binder and math book into my locker.

I slam it shut, waiting for her to finish before we begin to walk to the gym.

I stop, remembering Coach Ramnor's warning from last week. I groan. "We have dodgeball today, don't we?" She nods sympathetically, then a shy grin spreads onto her face.

"But my class has the volleyball unit. Good luck." Sometimes I really wish she was in my gym class so that I could use her as a shield. Not even kidding.

She grins again. "What? Moniqué, just tell me. Please."

"Don't forget you have Cole in your class. Actually, he has all your classes with you. It's a little weird, actually." No kidding.

We reach the black and gold doubledoors to the gym, pausing. "Are you okay, Elle?"

"Fine. Let's just get this over with."

She swings open the left door, holding it for me as I enter, then letting it swing shut as she walks inside.

Cole and Ralem walk in, one through each door.

"Hey, Elle." Ralem walks up to me and gives me a brotherly hug. "Long weekend, no see, eh?" He grins slightly and introduces himself to Moniqué. I roll my eyes as her body language goes from friendly and cautious to flirty and bubbly. I tug her away by the shirtsleeve.

"He's in my gym class. Yay!" She practically skips as we walk over to the clusters of people sitting on the retractable bleachers. We sit towards ground level and close to the door, barely talking as the two teachers walk up to Cole and Ralem, checking a clipboard. Coach Ramnor nods her head and gestures to the bleachers, and the two walk over to sit behind us.

Cole leans his knees against my shoulders, and I lean back into him, feeling slightly tired. The crackle of microphone feedback makes me sigh and sit straight, listening to the Coach intently and trying to ignore the jealous stares of other girls on the bleachers.

"Alright. As you all know, we are playing dodgeball today. I know half of you were going to be playing volleyball, but Coach Frenley sprained her ankle, so we're all playing dodgeball. To keep it fair, the two new students will be team captains." Ralem and Cole climb down to stand beside Coach Ramnor.

"Heads or tails." A coin is poised on her thumb and index finger, ready to be launched.

"Tails." Ralem answers just after the coach finishes the sentence. She flips the coin, and from Ralem's happy face, I know he won.

"Choose your first player."

Ralem looks straight at me, and I sigh, knowing exactly what he's going to say.

"Elle." I weave my way down the bleachers. Once I reach ground level, I scan the crowd, searching for Moniqué. She smiles evilly until Cole calls her name.

"Moniqué." Her look of absolute horror belies her shock before she levels her expression and smoothly walks down the steps to join me. The boys pick the rest of their teams less certainly, and for millenia-old Angels, they seem incredibly akin to any new kid at high school that's been put on the spot.

The two finish picking, and each team retreats to the opposite end of the gym. Coach Ramnor blows the whistle.

"You know the rules. We're playing Infection. When you're out, you're out for the rest of the game. When two people are left, it's a free for all. Nowhere is off limits at that point, but before then, halfcourt is the boundary. Thostwo people are also team captains for the next round. One, two, three,"she blows the whistle where four should go, signaling the beginning of the game.

The gym is absolute pandemonium. People are scrambling to get the small dodgeballs along the border. Ralem picks off several boys and a few girls before he gets taken down by Cole. He shakes his fist at him, and walks over to join other "infected" from our team on the bleachers.

I grab ball and wack Moniqué in the fist. She narrows her eyes at me but she's still smiling. Cole reaches behind his team's shield, a mat standing up and folded into three walls, and pulls out a ball. I duck as it whizzes past my ear, ruffling my hair.

I snatch one from a poor random person and huck it at his torso. He neatly pivots away at the very last second. He clucks his tongue and wags his finger, chiding me for playing the game against him.

I decide to leave him be, and focus on picking off other people. After what feels like hours, there's only four people left on the court. Cole's the only person left on his team, and I'm one of three. While I'm grabbing a ball, I hear two quick thwaps of a ball hitting someone.

"Looks like Cole and Davis are last two."

I quickly yelp out, for some reason needing to prove that I can hold my own against Cole. "No. I'm still here." I wave my hand above the mat and a ball flies past just as I jerk it down.

Ralem hoots happily, pumping his fist. "Yeah, Elle! Whoop him!" I roll my eyes and begin to gather the dodgeballs inside the arc of the shield.

I hear somebody's shoes squeak on the ground outside the shield, and I hop quietly to the outside of the shield. I hear Cole's disappointed sigh as he throws his ball out behind him. His mind reaches for mine, but I form a wall long enough for me to quietly snatch his discarded dodgeball from the ground. I tiptoe to stand behindhim, and the whole gym stares in quiet excitement as I raise my arm to throw the ball at his back.

I release the wall, and he sees the situation through my eyes. His whole body tenses in the split second before I lightly toss the ball at his shoulders.

"I win." He turns to face me, smiling slightly like he's proud of me. My team shouts in congratulations to me, while his team congratulates him only after he reminds them that he was the second-to-last player left.

Coach Ramnor walks up to the crowd, her whistle swinging at her neck. "To be honest, I really wasn't expecting either of you two to win, but good job, Elle. That's one of the few times a girl has won Infection."

She turns to Cole. "Pretty good for the first time, Cole. Keep it up. OK, everyone. Round two. Heads or-" The bell rings, cutting her off, and we all race out the door.

Cole jogs up beside me, smirking. "You cheated."

"Sure. We'll say that for the sake of your ego. But we both know I won fair and square." I reach my locker, and he leans against the set to my left, sticking his hands in his jeans pockets. I grab my binder and a packet of paper, a script for my next class.

"What's that?" He snatches the packet, flipping it right side up by turning his wrist. "Romeo and Juliet?"

I grab it back, frowning slightly. "Don't even. You just got beat by a girl in dodgeball. And by the way, you can't mock me, 'cause I got one of the leads."

We start to walk and a grin swiftly finds itself on his face. "Let me guess-Romeo?" He laughs as I punch him in the arm. "Hey! I was joking."

I smile innocently. "I know. That's why it wasn't funny." I stop, seeing the drama room door, and he keeps going, now talking to himself. A pair of girls passes him, laughing hysterically. He reaches the end of the hallway and turns around, searching for me. I lean against the door, and he runs smoothly back toward the door, grabbing my wrist as I move to open the door.

"What? We only have a minute before the late sweep."

"Break a leg, Juliet."

"What was that for?" I look at him suspiciously.

He points to a sign on the door. Meet in the MPR. We're doing a dress rehearsal in front of the office staff. Don't be late.

"Great. Hurry up, Cole! We're gonna be late." I start to run, my binder thumping against my hip as I skid into the lunchroom/MPR.

There are racks of costumes set around the room, with students flipping through them, some with several gathered in their arms. I run to one of them, hrabbing a Victorian-style dress with a light petticoat. I search a box underneath it for a pair of matching ballet flats. Cole watches me in silence, and his expression reminds me of a sad puppy.

"What's wrong, Cole?" I grab his face in both hands, smooshing his cheeks together. He puts his on top of mine, and closes his eyes. An image sparks into view in my mind--he's imagining me as Juliet. And he's sad he isn't Romeo.

"Really? You do remember what happens in the end, right? They both die." I smoosh his cheeks further together, and he gently pulls them away, stretching his mouth open. He rubs his jaw, and the skin is slightly red from a light friction burn.

"Sorry. But it's ok. I'm sure you'd make a great Romeo." I smile, hoping to lighten his somber mood, and succeed.

"Oh well. You should get ready." He smiles and hands me a pair of flats. He had them the whole time.

The teacher runs up, a panicked look harshening her classically beautiful features. "Elle! Thomas is sick today. I was wondering if you knew anyone who you think could fill in for him." Both of our gazes fall on Cole, who suddenly looks like a cornered animal.

"Do you two want me to play Romeo?" He grins uncomfortably, a resigned expression on his face.

The teacher nods appreciatively. "Yes, please. If you know it, I mean. If not, it's fine."

He sighs and rubs the back of his neck, but I can see from the sheer joy sparkling in his eyes that declining the request hasn't even registered in his mind as an option. "Sure. I'll do it."

The teacher taps her chin in thought. "Are you two, uh, comfortable enough with each other to do this."

We share a look, and I blush slightly. "Yeah. We can do it."

She nods, and the tension etched on her face melts away. I whisper into his ear, standing on my tiptoes. "You do know this play, right?"

He nods confidently. "Oh yeah. I played Romeo at the first big performance."

"Um...what? Like, the first big performance in the 21st century?"

He rolls his eyes, mild annoyance coming off of him in waves. "No, the first performance. Shakespeare was the director. You had to be there or you never got to see it."

"Wow. What was it like, knowing Shakespeare?" He shrugs, his nonchalant attitude the polar opposite of mine. I feel like jumping up and down, I'm so excited. I know it's completely different than knowing the real Shakespeare, but it feels like somehow I'm talking to Shakespeare somehow.

"Five minutes to Scene One. Hurry up." The teacher, Ms. Traviss, turns the mic back off and steps behind the heavy curtain hiding the stage from view. I run from one rack of costumes to another, searching for Cole's costume. I find it on the last rack I search, and grab it, inspecting to make sure it's the right one.

There's a simple cashmere tunic hanging over a pair of black jeans, brushed with a wire brush to soften the fabric. A pair of gray riding boots are set under the rack, and I hand the bundle of clothes to Cole, who runs into the bathroom to change. I run into the girls' bathroom and quickly shimmy the dress up to cover my torso. I fiddle with the laces, finally succeeding in tightening the built in corset enough for it to stay in place.

I exit the bathroom, almost running straight into Cole.

"Oops. Sorry." I fidget with the waistline, turning it straight.

He shrugs and gestures for me to follow him. "Come on. The show must go on, and we can talk during lunch." He transitions to a run, and I crumple the dress in my fists, trying to keep up with him.

"No fair. You aren't wearing a floor length gown."

He turns and runs walks backward. "And you aren't wearing jeans two sizes too big. I don't even have a belt."

We reach the stage and I release the skirts, leaving them slightly rumpled and wrinkled. I find Ms. Traviss helping a secondary character lace her dress' back.

"Where are the props and set, Ms. Traviss?"

She ties a neat bow and pats the girl on the shoulder, signaling that she's finished. "We aren't using them. We're just running over the basics and dynamics. I hope Cole's good enough to fill in for Thomas. We can't afford anything less."

A grin spreads onto my face as I recall our conversation. "He told me he played Romeo in a big production a few years ago."

She nods, and I see her hands are slightly shaking. This play must mean a lot to her, more than anyone realises.

"We're gonna do great. And it's because of you. Trust me." I smile and give her a hug. She's always treated me more like a daughter than a student, even more so when she found out how mean my step-mother was to me.

She smiles weakly, her gray eyes sparkling. "You're right." Her expression turns maternal and stern. "Get out there, Elle. The show must go on." She shooes me out, fussing with a corset strap before I get onstage. A student helps me to my first position, and as the curtains open, I notice a man watching me intently. I turn away, but keep him in my peripheral vision. My mind goes on autopilot, my mouth uttering each syllable by muscle memory. I hope I don't sound too robotic.

Cole walks onstage, looking like every little girl's fantasy of their prince. His hair has been touseled to look wild and untamed, and his clothes fit relatively well for being off size.

As he says his first lines, I see him glance to where my eyes are. I activate the Bond, preparing to ask him something, but he beats me.

Move forward one step.

Why? It's not part of the-

Move! Now! Please, Elle.

The entire talk takes mere split-seconds, and I shift forward, moving just over one step. Cole nods, almost imperceptively, and I flinch as a small object flies past my hair and imbeds itself into the wall.

It's a small arrow. The shaft is creamy white, and the feathers on the back are speckled gray.

I face the man, now walking up toward the stage, deadly determination obvious on his leathery face.

Go get the teacher. Tell her the man shot an Angelshot. She'll know what I mean.

I improvise a line and add it in, ignoring the looks of horror the other students are shooting at me.

"Pardon me, sir. I have other matters to attend to. I apologize."

Cole dips his head, looking me straight in the eyes the whole time. Hurry. He's coming.

As I walk off stage, I steal a glance at the angry man, now almost onstage.

"Ms. Traviss! I need to talk to you! Now!" She runs from around the corner, her expression pained.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be onstage!"

"I don't have time to explain. I'm sorry. Cole said to tell you that a man shot at me with an Angelshot. And he's heading towards the stage." Ms. Traviss squeezes her eyes shut, and the people bustling around us stop midstep.

She opens her eyes, and large, opalescent pink wings unfurl behind her.

"Is every teacher here an angel?"

Her mouth presses into a thin line as she thinks. "No. There are some Nephilim. Wait, how are you not frozen?"

I close my eyes lightly and allow my icy blue wings to materialize behind me, slowly sinking to the ground.

"Oh. I never knew you were an Angel."

"Neither did anyone else. Come on, we have to save Cole. By the way, how does that Manipulation work?"

She shrugs as we weave through people. "It freezes humans and most mortals. Nephilim, trans-eternals, Angels, etc. are left unaffected."

We skid to a stop as we reach the stage. Cole is in a fistfight with a man with tattered black wings. They look tissue-thin, and the wings aren't a healthy and glossy onyx, but a cloudy smog colour. Cole's are almost blinding in comparison. They swing behind him, like a pair of giant feathered equalizers. The other man aims a small crossbow and shoots off another Angelshot, missing any and all parts of Cole by a large margin. Cole swipes the bow from the man, turning it to face the man by tossing it up into the air. He presses the tip between the man's eyes, the point drawing blood.

I expect to see either red mortal blood or gold ichor, but what I see abhors me to the point of gagging. The drop of blood (if you can even call it that) is black and greasy like oil, with marbled streaks of dark burgundy, like dried blood.

The man grins and shows a mouthful of teeth that resemble a shark's. They recede in rows behind rows, and all of them are sharpened into triangular points.

Cole ducks as the man launches an uppercut aimed at his cheekbone. "As I thought. You're a Reaper. You're supposed to be uncompromiseable. None of us are scheduled for Reckoning, so why are you here?"

The man smiles again, making my stomach churn. "Everybody has a price, Michoel. What's yours? How much does the Serpent need to give you for you to give up Her Highness."

"The world wouldn't be enough." Cole steps to the side as the man shoots a third Angelshot where he just stood.

"Then maybe her despair will make her give herself up, and you'll be out of the picture." He aims the crossbow at Cole, who has stopped. He's seen me.

I step from the shadows, feeling ridiculous in my dress. He turns, crossbow dropping to his waist. "You can't be the One. But I'll kill you anyway." He fires the crossbow, and time seems to slow down. Cole leaps at him, the pain etched on his face spelling nearly definite death for the Reaper. The arrow flies at me, and I can count the turns of the shaft.

One. Two. Three. Four... I hold my hand out, feeling the displacement of the air as the arrow slices through it. My hand closes around the middle, the arrowhead and feathers pressing on either end of my fisted hand.

I flip the arrow in the air like a baton, catching it backhanded. The tip nicks my thumb, and it feels like a stream of liquid fire has been shot into my veins.

I crumple onto the ground, my vision clouded by black spots from pain. I hear the man laugh, but the sound is distorted and distant, like I'm underwater.

"See? She's dead. She's not the Earthly One. Now you will die." He raises his hand and stops it inches from Cole's chest. His face is damp and his expression is resigned.

"Go ahead. I don't have anything to lose. You took it all." He clenches his jaw, staring the man in the eye.

It takes all my strenght to stand and speak. "What am I? Chopped liver?" They both turn to me, surprise and numerous other emotions flashing over their faces as I blink away the haze clouding my thoughts and vision. I feel the power from the potted plants around me flow into me, energizing me and chasing away the lingering wisps of confusion.

I step forward, my wings bobbing up toward the sky, as I saunter toward the pair, my icy glare settling on the Reaper. His black eyes rake over me greedily, and a cold shiver runs up and down my spine,

"I'm up here." I hold his gaze, my eyes unmoving and unblinking. He begins to sweat and looks away, his eyes beginning to show his feelings of fear.

I'm scaring him. And it feels good.

"Elle, how?"

I don't answer Cole, and slowly begin to step toward the Reaper. He fights to control his instincts of self-preservation, straining himself as I walk within arm's reach. I grab his jaw, the side of my mouth turning up in a snarl. "Did you really think I was just going to lay down and die?"

He levels his expression, straightening his spine. "Yes. That was the basic idea."

I roll my eyes at his answer. He's not telling me something. "Who sent you here?"

He shrugs, and his eyes gleam as he believes he's beaten me. "Somebody you don't know. Who you don't want to know."

I clench my fist around the short arrow, the edge of the arrowhead biting into my skin and shooting another river of fire into my body. I tilt my head, biting my lip as the pain subsides. The man's eyes are wide in shock.

"If I'm willing to do that to myself, imagine what I'm willing to do to you for answers. Now, who sent you here?"

He growls and I press the Angelshot to his throat, a small wisp of smoke swirling up from his throat. He stares me in the eye, his gaze filled with hatred.

"Fine. The Serpent sent me. To dispatch anyone standing between Him and the Earthly One. And the One, if need be."

My mind registers the capital in "Him", and the Serpent comment sends my minf to the story of Adam and Eve. I shrug cautiously, my mind knowing what his answer will be, but refusing to acknowledge it. "This...Serpent fellow...he wouldn't happen to be Satan, would he?"

The man laughs dryly, relieving the anxious pressure building behind my heart. "Oh, no. His name is Lucifer. Satan is the bastardized name you humans have given Him. And he knows about you and his general. He says He'll let it go if you agree to follow him. If you agree to rule with him." The pressure returns tenfold, almost crippling.

I can't keep a snarl off of my face. "Never in a million years," I ram the Angelshot into his jugular vein, ignoring the cold, oily slime that drips onto my hand. I yank the arrow out and throw it off of the stage, watching as the man disappears into a cloud of foul-smelling smoke.

Cole walks up behind me, laying his hand on my shoulder, and I press my cheek onto it. He turns my body to face him, and when I see that his hands are stained black, I look down at the dress. The calico fabric is saturated with the Reaper's bodily goop, a trail from my clavicle to the middle of the skirt fabric.

Ms. Traviss hesitantly walks up to us, tapping me on the shoulder. "We need to get them back to normal. That Manipulation condensed the whole ordeal into a fraction of a millisecond, but if it isn't returned to normal, time itself could be shattered."

I nod, eager to put this thing behind me. "Okay. What do we need to do?"

"Nothing, just prepare yourselves. You'll have all the memories, obviously, but the Manipulation will return you to the way you were a few minutes before the incident. Got it?"

Me and Cole both nod. She concentrates, beads of sweat forming on her forehead, and suddenly I'm standing back onstage, in the part of the scene just before Romeo enters. I recover, and say my next line perfectly. Cole steps onstage, and we resume the play like itcs supposed to be. I glance where the Reaper is supposed to be standing, but find it empty. He's gone, and the rest of the play goes fine.