Unforgiven (7 page)

Lilith sneezed and hugged her stomach. Hunger was running with rusty scissors through her insides.

“A hunger sneeze,” Cam said. “I should never have let you talk us out of getting something to eat. Good thing you're with me.”

“Why?”

“Because we're good together.” He brushed his dark hair from his eyes. “And because I travel with exquisite snacks.”

From his canvas bag he produced a sleeve of water crackers and a short, fat jar with foreign writing on it. He put his hand on the lid and tried to turn it. It didn't budge. He tried once more. The vein appeared on his forehead again.

“Here.” Lilith took the jar from him and slid it up her guitar strings, letting one of them pop the vacuum seal. She'd done it once at home when Bruce was hungry and a jar of pickles was the very last thing they had to eat.

The lid twisted open in her hands.

Cam ran the tip of his tongue across his teeth and nodded slightly. “I loosened it for you.”

Lilith peered into the jar. It was crammed with tiny, wet, black eggs.

“Ossetra,” Cam said. “The finest caviar.”

Lilith had no idea what to do with caviar. Where did he get it—especially if he'd slept on the street the night before? Cam opened the package of crackers and used one to scoop out a mound of the glistening black stuff.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” he said.

She didn't want to, but hunger got the better of her.

The cracker was brittle, the caviar soft and lush. Then the brininess of the eggs struck her, and at first she thought she didn't like it. But she let it sit on her tongue for a moment as a rich sensation spread through her mouth, buttery with an edge of sharpness. She swallowed, already addicted.

When she opened her eyes, Cam was smiling at her.

“Is this expensive?” she asked, feeling guilty.

“Tastes best if you eat it slow.”

A calm silence fell between them as they ate. She was grateful for the food, but it bothered her that this guy acted like they were closer than they were. “I should get home,” she said. “I'm grounded.”

“In that case, you should stay out as long as you can.” Cam tilted his head, looking at her the way guys in movies looked at girls they were about to kiss. He stayed like that for a moment; then he picked up her guitar.

“Hey!” Lilith said as a chord filled the air. Her guitar was her most prized possession. No one touched it but Lilith. But as Cam's fingers strummed her strings and he began to hum, she watched him, mesmerized. His song was beautiful—and familiar. She didn't know where she'd heard it before.

“Did you write that?” she couldn't help asking.

“Maybe.” He stopped playing. “It needs a female vocalist.”

“I'm sure Chloe King's available,” Lilith said.

“Speaking of which,” Cam said, “how about that prom theme? Battle of the Bands?” He tossed his head. “Could be cool.”

“Cool is the very last thing it could ever be,” Lilith said.

“I'll sign up if you sign up.”

Lilith burst out laughing. “That's supposed to entice me? Has anyone ever told you you're a little bit conceited?”

“Not in the past five minutes,” Cam said. “Just think about it. We've got two weeks to throw a decent band together. We could do it.” He paused. “You could do it. And you know what they say about Revenge.”

“What?” she said, waiting to hear what he'd say next to piss her off.

He gazed into the distance, at something that seemed to make him sad. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “It's sweet
.
”

Fourteen Days

T
he next morning, as the sun broke over the hills, Cam peeled himself off the roof of the Trumbull gym, where he'd slept the night before. His neck was stiff, and he needed a hot shower to loosen it. He glanced around, making sure the coast was clear, then swooped down until he was level with the high windows of the gym. He found an unlocked pane and slipped inside.

It was quiet in the boys' locker room, and Cam paused for a moment to stare at his reflection in the mirror. His face looked…older—his features more angular, his eyes more recessed. Over the millennia he had changed his appearance many times to blend in to his surroundings, letting the sun bronze his pale skin or adding muscle to his naturally slim frame, but he was always the one to make those changes. They didn't just
happen.
Never before had he been startled by his own reflection.

What was going on?

The question nagged at him as he showered, stole a clean white T-shirt from some kid's locker, slipped into his jeans and motorcycle jacket, and headed outside to wait for Lilith's bus.

Near the cul-de-sac where the buses pulled in, Cam leaned against a glass-encased bulletin board promoting the school's various extracurricular activities. There was a German club meeting at three o'clock.
LEARN HOW TO ASK YOUR DATE TO PROM IN GERMAN!,
the flyer boasted. Another held details for cross-country tryouts.
GET IN SHAPE AND LOOK GREAT IN YOUR PROM DRESS!,
it promised. In the center was a glittery flyer promoting a gig for Chloe King's band, the Perceived Slights, the following week. They were opening for a local band called Ho Hum.
BE ABLE TO SAY YOU SAW THEM BEFORE THEY WON THE BATTLE OF THE BANDS AT PROM!

Cam had only been in Crossroads one full day and already he was feeling the school's prom-mania. He had been to a prom before, once, decades ago, with a cool girl from Miami who'd had a crush on him. Even though they'd disabled the fire alarm and spent most of the night up on the roof watching shooting stars, they'd also danced to a few fast songs, and Cam had enjoyed himself. Of course, he'd had to fly before anything got too serious.

He wondered what Lilith thought of prom, whether she had any desire to go. It dawned on him that he would need to ask her to be his date. The idea was thrillingly old-fashioned. He would have to make it special. He'd have to do everything just right.

At the moment, winning Lilith's love was looking like a losing bet. Lucifer was right, she hated him. But the girl he'd fallen in love with was there, somewhere
,
buried underneath all that pain. He just had to reach her somehow.

The squeal of brakes startled him, and Cam turned to watch the caravan of yellow buses lining up. Students filed down their steps. Most of them walked toward the building in clusters of twos and threes.

Only Lilith walked alone. She had her head down, her red hair covering her face, the white wires of her earbuds dangling. Her shoulders were hunched forward, which made her look smaller than she was. When he couldn't see the fire in her eyes, Lilith looked so defeated Cam could hardly stand it. He caught up to her as she walked through the doors to the school's main hallway.

He tapped her shoulder. She spun around.

“Hey,” he said, suddenly breathless.

He wasn't used to having her so close, after all this time spent so far away. She was different from the girl he'd loved in Canaan, but just as wondrous. When he'd made this wager with Lucifer, he hadn't anticipated how difficult it would be not to touch her as he used to. He had to restrain every impulse to reach for her, to caress her cheek, to take her into his arms and kiss her and never let her go.

Lilith looked at him and flinched. Her face twisted with disgust or something worse as she removed her earbuds. He'd done nothing to her in this life, but she was hardwired to despise him.

“What?” Lilith asked.

“What are you listening to?” he asked.

“Nothing you'd like.”

“Try me.”

“No thanks,” she said. “Can I go now, or did you want to make more painfully awkward small talk?”

Cam's eyes caught another flyer for the Perceived Slights gig taped to a nearby locker. He ripped it off and thrust it at her. “This band's playing next week,” he said. “Wanna go together?”

She glanced briefly at the flyer and shook her head. “Not really my kind of music. But if you like bubblegum pop, have a blast.”

“The Slights are just the opening act. I've heard Ho Hum is pretty good,” he lied. “I think it'd be fun.” He paused. “I think it'd be fun to go with you.”

Lilith squinted, adjusting the strap of her backpack on her shoulder. “Like a date?”

“Now you're feeling me,” Cam said.

“I am absolutely
not
feeling you,” she said, walking away. “The answer is no.”

“Come on,” Cam said, following. The halls were a chaos of students at their lockers getting ready for the day, tossing in books, putting on lip gloss, and gossiping about prom. “What if I can get us backstage?”

Cam doubted there was a backstage at this gig, but he'd pull whatever strings needed pulling if Lilith would say yes.

“Did somebody say ‘backstage'?” came a sibilant voice. “I've got passes to whatever backstage you want.”

Lilith and Cam stopped and turned. Behind them, in the middle of the hallway, stood a boy with auburn hair and a smirk on his square, almost handsome face. He wore distressed jeans, an argyle-printed T-shirt with subtle gray skulls inside its diamonds, and a thin gold chain around his neck. In one hand he held a tablet.

Lucifer wasn't supposed to be here. This wasn't part of their bet.

“Who are you?” Lilith asked.

“I'm Luc,” Lucifer said. “I'm with King Media. We've partnered with Trumbull Prep to put on the best prom this school has ever seen. I'm the intern, but I think they might take me on full-time—”

“I'm not going to prom,” Lilith said drily. “You're wasting your time.”

“But you
are
interested in music, right?” Lucifer asked.

“How'd you know that?” Lilith asked.

Luc smiled. “You just have that look.” He tapped a password into his tablet and pulled up an electronic sign-up sheet. “I'm facilitating the student sign-up for the Battle of the Bands.” He glanced at Cam. “You gonna sign up, bro?”

“Isn't this beneath even you?” Cam asked.

“Oh, Cam,” Luc said, “if you refuse to do things that are beneath you, you'll never get much accomplished in this world.”

Lilith studied Cam. “You know this guy?”

“We're old friends,” Luc said. “But where are my manners?” He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Lilith.”

“You know my name?” Lilith stared at Luc with a look of equal parts wonder and disgust. Cam knew the perverse appeal of the devil. It was what kept Lucifer's ranks overflowing.

“What else could your name be?” Luc asked. “Or…King Media does its research,” he added with a smile as Lilith awkwardly shook his hand.

Cam tensed. This wasn't fair. He had two weeks to get Lilith to fall in love with him. He didn't have time for Lucifer's interference.

“What are you doing here?” Cam asked Lucifer, unable to hide the venom in his voice.

“Let's just say I wasn't being challenged enough,” Luc said. “Then I landed this internship with King Media—”

“I have no idea what that means,” Cam said.

Luc's smirk deepened. “Any questions or concerns about prom and the Battle of the Bands go through me. I want the students here to get to know me, to see me as a friend, not an authority figure. By the time prom rolls around, we'll all feel like besties.”

The intercom clicked on, filling the hall with even more noise. “Good morning, Bulls!”

Luc pointed a finger at the ceiling. “You two should really listen to this announcement.”

“At six o'clock this evening,” Tarkenton said, “there will be an open mic in the cafeteria. It's open to all, but mandatory for students in Mr. Davidson's poetry class.”

Lilith groaned. “I'd rather die than read some dreary poem in public,” she said, miserable. “But Mr. Davidson's class is the only one I'm passing—and I'm only barely doing that.”

“You heard Tarkenton,” Cam said to Lilith. “
Open
mic. You don't have to read a poem—you could sing one. We could make tonight Revenge's first gig.”

“
We're
not doing anything, because
we
don't have a band,” Lilith said.

By now the hallways had mostly emptied out. In another minute, they'd be late for class. But Cam felt glued to the ground: He was close enough to smell her skin, and it made him dizzy with desire. “Screw homeroom,” he said. “Let's sneak out right now and go practice.”

Long ago, in Canaan, music had connected Lilith and Cam; Cam needed it to perform its magic a second time, here, in Crossroads. If they could just perform together, the chemistry between them would break down Lilith's defenses for long enough for him to win her heart again. He knew it would. And if he had to attend a high school prom to play with her again, so be it.

“I, for one, would love to hear you sing, Lilith,” Luc chimed in.

“Stay out of this,” Cam said. “Don't you have somewhere to go? Freshmen to corrupt or something?”

“Sure,” Luc said. “But not before I add Lilith to my list.” He held the tablet out to her again, waiting until she keyed in her email address. Then he flipped its cover closed and headed for the door. “Later, loser,” he called to Cam. “And, Lilith, you'll be hearing from me.”

The day passed quickly. Too quickly.

Lilith had ignored Cam in homeroom and in poetry, and he didn't see her for the rest of the school day. He'd snuck out to Rattlesnake Creek at lunch, hoping he would find her there, strumming her guitar, but all he'd found was the tuneless trickle of April water in the creek bed.