Unforgiven (29 page)

“Pardon me!” Arriane said, coming between them. “If I could make one sartorial suggestion.” A moment later she pressed something soft into Lilith's hands. Lilith held it up to the light. It was the gown she'd bought at the thrift store.

“How did you…”

“You should really start locking your bedroom window,” Arriane said, and chuckled. “There are some real ding-dongs out there who might have stolen your dress before I did.”

Lilith blinked. “You were in my room?”

“No big deal,” Arriane said. “While you were busy breaking up or making up or whatever it is you're doing with Cam, I made a few updates to represent your evolving style.”

Lilith looked more closely at the dress and noticed the hemline had been significantly shortened in front—to miniskirt length—while it stayed long in the back. A black lace panel had been sewn into either side of the bodice, making the waistline look even smaller than it was. The neckline had been lowered to a sweetheart cut, trimmed with black lace.

“Wow,” Lilith said.

“Turn it over,” Arriane said. “There's more.”

She did, and saw new cutouts in the center of the gown's back, in the shape of wings. It was the same dress, yet it was totally different. Lilith didn't understand how this girl had made such swift and savvy alterations, but she knew she would wear this dress proudly at the Battle of the Bands.

In fact, she wanted to wear it right now.

“Thank you,” she said to Arriane. “May I…?”

Arriane read Lilith's mind. “No peeking,” she told the boys, then nodded at Lilith.

Lilith turned her back to the creek, then slipped her T-shirt over her head and tossed it on the ground. She pulled on the dress and shimmied out of her jeans. Arriane's hands found Lilith's side and did up what must have been fifty tiny buttons.

“In a word,” Arriane said, “stunning.”

Lilith stared down at herself, at the dress illuminated by the stars in the sky and all of the twinkling lights Cam and his friends had strung. She felt beautiful…and strange, the way she had in the thrift-store dressing room. She couldn't explain it. She realized Cam was looking at her, and she could tell he felt it, too.

“I'm ready,” Lilith said.

She stepped into his arms and they began to move in time, their eyes locked on one another. Cam knew how to lead. He was careful not to go too fast and never came close to stepping on her toes. Every dip and turn felt instinctive, and his body felt so right against hers, as if they were two puzzle pieces snapping into place.

“I still don't understand how we got here,” Lilith whispered, arching back so her red hair reached the ground.

“We took the bike,” Cam joked. “Remember? The wind in your hair?”

“You know what I mean,” Lilith said. “You. Me. Us.”

“Us.”
Cam repeated the word slowly. “You know, that has a nice ring to it. We make a really good ‘us.' ”

Lilith thought for a moment. He was right. They did. And suddenly Lilith didn't want prom to end at Rattlesnake Creek. For the first time, she wanted to do more than just play her song at the battle and duck out. She wanted to experience the whole thing, with her friends and, especially, with Cam.

“Cam,” she said, her heart picking up pace as they swayed to the music, “will you be my date to the Battle of the Bands?”

Lilith thought she had seen Cam happy, but now his face lit up with something new. He twirled her around in a grand circle. “Yes!”

“I think he said ‘yes'!” Arriane hissed at Roland.

“We knew
he
was going to say yes!” Roland replied.

“Oh yeah. Sorry. Don't mind us,” Arriane said.

Lilith giggled as the girl returned to washing their dishes in the creek.

“There's one condition,” she said, turning back to Cam. “You have to rejoin the band and play our song. Think you can handle that?”

“Lilith,” Cam said, “I would play music with you forever. Or at least until you kick me out again.”

“Then it's settled,” she said. “Tomorrow night, me and you. And all of Trumbull.”

“Technically,” Cam said, checking his watch, “prom is
tonight.
”

Roland's guitar playing modulated to something foreign and familiar. It sounded Middle Eastern, but Lilith could have sworn she'd heard it a million times before.

“Now close your eyes,” Cam said. “Let me show you how it really feels to dance.”

Lilith closed her eyes and let Cam lead her, their footwork becoming more and more intricate as the song progressed. She'd had no idea dancing could feel so effortless. His hands grasped her waist and lifted her until she could have sworn that his feet had come off the ground, too; that they were floating up above the creek, above the trees, above the burning hillside, into the dense tangle of stars, about to kiss the moon.

“Can I open my eyes?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Cam said.

Then he kissed her deeply, his mouth firm and warm on hers—and Lilith kissed him back. A warm tingle spread through her as Cam pulled her closer, kissed her harder. She'd never done this before. Not even close.

His lips seemed made for hers. Why had it taken them so long to get here? They could have been kissing just like this all along. They should stay kissing, just like this, until—

“Lilith,” he whispered as their lips parted. “Lilith, Lilith, Lilith.”

“Cam,” she replied. She felt light-headed. A cool breeze whipped around them, tossing her hair, and before she knew it Lilith felt the ground beneath her feet.

“
Now
you can open your eyes,” he said, and she did. Up close, Cam's were flecked with gold and ringed by an even deeper green. She couldn't stop staring at them.

“Was that dancing?” she asked breathlessly. “Or flying?”

Cam wrapped both arms around her waist. “When it's done right,” he said, touching his forehead against hers, “there isn't any difference.”

Four Hours

C
am climbed out of the backseat of the old stretch limousine Roland had mysteriously scrounged up for the evening. He mounted the concrete steps to Lilith's front door and listened to the locusts zap against the porch light. His heart drummed as he reached to ring her bell.

Self-doubt had never been Cam's style. It clashed with his leather jacket, his original Levi's, his cool green eyes. But now, as the sun sulked behind the burning hills and a cold wind claimed the streets, he wondered: Had he done enough?

A few band practices. A few arguments. One exquisite kiss. To Cam, every moment had brimmed with passion. But would Lilith recognize it as
love
?

Because if she didn't…

She would. She had to. Tonight.

Arriane flung open the door, fists on her hips, her fine eyebrows arched. “She's ready!” she sang. “Her updo will be the stuff of legend, but I'm
most
pleased with my alterations to her dress. Hey, they don't call me Arriane Alter for nothin'.” She looked over her shoulder. “Bruce, bring out the babe.”

A moment later, Lilith's brother rounded the hallway corner wearing his dinosaur-print pajamas. On his arm was Lilith, all dressed up. Cam held his breath as she walked toward him with slow, measured steps, meeting his eyes the whole time. That dress, and the dreamy look in her eyes, took him right back to the wedding they'd never had.

She was luminous. Her red hair had been braided a dozen ways, all swirled together in a high shaggy twist. Her eyelids were shimmering green, her lips crimson and matte. She wore black vintage ankle-high motorcycle boots. She was lethal.

She let go of Bruce's hand and spun in a slow, sexy circle. “How do I look?”

When she stopped in front of him, Cam took her hands. She had the softest skin he'd ever known. “You look so good, it ought to be illegal.”

“No costume for you?” Lilith asked, smoothing the lapel of Cam's leather jacket. “Jean's going to be pissed, but I think you look smokin'.”

“Smokin'?” he laughed. When Lilith looked at him that way, Cam could forget that his muscles had lost their definition, that his skin was paper-thin, that his hair was falling out and his hooves made it hard for him to walk. Lilith saw him differently than the rest of her world did, because she cared for him, and hers was the only opinion that mattered.

“Cam, do you mind if…,” Lilith said nervously. “Would it be okay if I properly introduced you to my mom? She's kind of old-fashioned, and it would mean a lot—”

“No problem. Moms love me,” Cam lied. Mothers of teenage girls could usually smell the bad boy in Cam right away. But for Lilith, he would do anything.

“Mom?” Lilith called, and a moment later her mother appeared in the hall. She wore a pink terry-cloth bathrobe that was stained and worn thin. Her hair was pulled back messily with a plastic clip. She touched it fretfully, teasing out a little strand.

“Mrs. Foscor.” Cam extended his hand. “I'm Cameron Briel. We met once before, when you were taking Bruce to the hospital, but I'm glad to see you again. I want to thank you.”

“For what?” Lilith's mother asked.

“For raising a remarkable daughter,” he said.

“Anything you like in her is probably just her rebelling against me,” her mother said, and then, to Cam's amazement, she laughed. “She does look beautiful, though, doesn't she?”

“The stuff of love songs,” Cam said.

When he glanced at Lilith, her eyes were damp; Cam understood how rare praise from her mother must have been.

“Thank you,” Lilith said, embracing her mom, then her brother. “We won't be out too late.”

“Don't you want to come see Lilith perform?” Cam asked Lilith's mom.

“I'm sure we'd only embarrass her,” her mother said.

“No,” Lilith said. “Please come.” She glanced at Cam. “I don't know, do you think they let non-students into prom?”

“Don't worry about that,” Arriane chimed in, pulling at the neck of her black V-neck shirt. “I know a guy who knows a guy who can get us all front-row seats.”

“That's very generous,” Lilith's mom said. “I'll go get dressed. You too, Bruce.”

When her family had disappeared into their rooms, Cam turned to Lilith. “Shall we?”

“Wait,” she said. “I forgot my guitar.”

“You might need that,” Cam said. “I'll wait outside.”

He stepped onto the porch, Arriane following behind him. She patted his cheek. “I'm proud of you, Cam. And inspired by you. Ain't that right, Ro?”

“Right on.” Roland called from the open window of the limousine. He was wearing a sharp-looking tuxedo with a navy bow tie.

“Thank you, guys,” Cam said.

“Regardless of what happens tonight,” Arriane added.

“You still have no faith that I can win?” Cam asked.

Arriane scampered to catch up with him. “It's just, on the off chance that you don't—”

“What she means is,” Roland said, getting out of the car and coming up behind Cam, “we'd miss you, man.” He leaned against Lilith's front porch's rusty railing and gazed up at the sky. “Won't you miss her?”

“Because if you lose,” Arriane said, “she'll be back to snow-globe Purgatory, and you…” Arriane shuddered. “I don't even want to think about what Lucifer will have you doing.”

“Don't worry about it,” Cam said. “Because I'm not going to lose.”

Arriane sank onto the hood of the limo, and Roland climbed back into the driver's seat. The front door opened, and Lilith stepped out, bathed in moonlight, holding her guitar.

“Can you handle one more accessory?” Cam asked, pulling a small white box from his pocket.

Lilith opened it and smiled when she saw the blue and yellow irises pinned to the small elastic band.

Gently, Cam slipped the flower onto Lilith's wrist. Their fingers intertwined.

“No one's ever given me a corsage,” Arriane said longingly.

Then something landed at her feet with a thump. Arriane jumped back in alarm, then looked down and saw a small white box identical to the one Cam had given Lilith. She smiled.

“You're welcome,” Roland called from the driver's seat. “Now get in, kids; you're wasting valuable prom time.”

At the edge of Trumbull's campus, Cam helped Lilith climb out of the limo. Small groups of done-up kids hung out on the hoods of cars in the parking lot, dressed in their finest dresses and suits, but most of the action seemed to be coming from the football field, where Luc had constructed the replica Colosseum.

Like its Roman model, it was open to the elements, with three tiers of tall arches around the exterior. As Cam studied it, he realized there was something slapdash about the structure. Instead of being made of limestone, it was formed entirely of packed ash from the fires of Lilith's Hell, like cheap concrete. It drove home to Cam how temporary this was—the evening; the school; the small, sad world of Crossroads.

Lilith gazed at the venue before them, and Cam knew she saw none of the things that worried Cam. To Lilith, it was just another ugly building in her ugly town.

Bass thumped through the walls. “It's no Rattlesnake Creek,” Lilith said, “but I guess we'll make do.”

“We can do better than that,” Cam said. “We can rock this place so hard its walls come tumbling down. It'll be the fall of Rome all over again.”

“My, you're ambitious,” Lilith teased, taking his arm.

“Thanks for the lift, Roland.” Cam turned to the demon, who closed the limo door behind him.

“Break a leg, brother,” Roland called to his friend.

Cam and Lilith entered the faux Colosseum through a long arch made of gold and silver balloons. On the other side they found the party in full swing. Students clustered around candlelit cocktail tables, laughing, flirting, snacking on cheese cubes, and sipping punch. Others danced to fast pop songs on a big parquet dance floor that was open to the stars.

Cam's gaze was drawn to the back of the Colosseum, where a grand stage had been erected, rising twenty feet above the rest of prom. Red velvet curtains created a backstage area where the other bands could wait before they played. Off to one side was a small judges' table over which hung a banner:
TRUMBULL PREP WELCOMES THE FOUR HORSEMEN.

Lilith nudged Cam and pointed at the dance floor. “Check out Luis.”

Cam followed her finger to find their drummer, wearing a white tuxedo and strutting like a chicken around Karen Walker, who was burying her face in her hands.

“Work it, Luis!” Lilith called out.

“What?” Luis shouted at her over the music. “This is my jam. I need to move my feet.”

Just then, Dean Miller walked up to Lilith and Cam. He wore a dark tux with a thin black tie that ran like a stripe down his chest. “Tarkenton's been looking for you all night.” He handed Cam a folded blue cloth. “Prom court. You have to wear it. You'd know that if you'd bothered to show up to our last meeting.”

Lilith buried a laugh in the crook of her elbow as Cam held up a pastel-blue satin sash with his name printed across it in white block letters. Dean wore a matching sash over his tux that read
Dean Miller.

“Great.” Cam raised the sash. “Good luck tonight, man.”

“Thanks, but unlike you, I don't need it,” Dean said with a smirk as Chloe King came up and slipped her arm through his.

“Dean, I need you for a photo—”

“Chloe,” Lilith said. “Hi.”

Chloe looked at Lilith's dress, clearly impressed. “Did you hire a stylist or something? Because you actually look nice.”

“Thanks, I guess,” Lilith said. “You look nice, too.”

Chloe turned to Cam and narrowed her eyes. “You'd better treat her right,” she said before leading Dean away.

“Since when are you and Chloe King friends?” Cam asked.