Unforgiven fallen book 5, p.8
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Unforgiven (Fallen Book 5), page 8

 

Unforgiven (Fallen Book 5)
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  Then it hit him: Lucifer was happening to him, manipulating Cam’s mortal appearance to make winning Lilith’s love even harder. As if it wasn’t hard enough already.

  If the devil was slowly stripping away the good looks Cam took for granted, what advantage would he have left? He would have to up his game. His gaze fell on Lilith’s journal, and suddenly he knew what he had to do.

  The dismal, dusty library was the one place on Trumbull’s campus that actually had reliable Wi-Fi. Cam grabbed a chair by the window so he could see when Lilith’s bus arrived. It was a Saturday morning, which meant that under other circumstances Lilith might still be sleeping, but Saturday meant nothing in Crossroads. Lucifer had bragged that there were no weekends in this Hell. None of the other students noticed or cared, for instance, that their prom was taking place on a Wednesday.

  Cam pitied them. They had no idea of the particular joy of a Friday afternoon at four o’clock, or the hedonistic thrill of a Saturday-midnight joyride that took all of Sunday to recover from—and they never would.

  Through the library window Cam could see hints of orange light given off by the wildfires encircling Crossroads. He knew Lilith’s temper would rival their blaze if she discovered what he was about to do, but he had to risk it.

  He Googled the Four Horsemen and soon found an email address for Ike Ligon. It was a long shot that his email would reach the lead singer and not some assistant, but the only other way to reach Ike—through Lucifer—was not an option.

  All the other songs submitted to the prom lyrics contest would be vetted by Luc. Cam knew the Four Horsemen wouldn’t judge a thing, and that, as of yesterday, Lilith wasn’t planning on submitting a song. She was more talented than everyone in Crossroads put together, and Cam wanted her favorite singer to hear her music—without being swayed by the devil.

  He settled into his chair, and into Lilith’s voice, as he crafted an email on his phone.

  Dear Mr. Ligon,

  I hope you don’t mind me reaching out directly, but your songs have always inspired me, so I wanted to share one of mine with you. I can’t wait to see you perform when you visit Crossroads. My bio and lyrics for the Battle of the Bands competition are attached. Thanks for everything.

  The black journal sat on Cam’s lap, but he found he didn’t need to open it. He typed out the lyrics of his favorite, “Somebody’s Other Blues,” from memory:

  I dreamed life was a dream

  Someone was having in my eyes

  I was outside looking in

  And all I saw was lies

  It’s not my life, it’s not my life

  I’m not the one not having fun

  Cam typing out the rest of the lyrics, impressed by the power of Lilith’s songwriting. The bio was trickier. No musician was candid in a bio. They listed their albums, maybe an influence, whether they had been lucky enough to hit the charts, then they said where they lived, and that was it.

  But Cam found it impossible to write about Lilith’s life and Lilith’s unique situation from an objective point of view. Instead, he wrote:

  I wrote this song at the creek behind my school, where I go to escape when the world gets suffocating. I go there every day. I’d live there if I could. I wrote this song after I got my heart broken, but not right after. I got hurt so bad that it took a long time before I could put what it felt like into words. There are still some things about my broken heart that I don’t understand, and I don’t know if I ever will. But music helps. That’s why I write, and that’s why I listen to music all the time. For what it’s worth, your songs are my favorites.

  I don’t expect to win this contest. I’ve learned never to expect anything at all. It’s an honor just to think of you reading something I wrote.

  As he typed the final words, Cam’s vision blurred. His eyes filled with tears.

  He hadn’t cried when he was exiled from the presence of the Throne, or when he’d fallen through the Void. He hadn’t even cried when he’d first lost Lilith all those millennia ago.

  But now he couldn’t stop himself. Lilith had suffered so much. And Cam had been the cause of it. He’d known she was hurt when they split up—how could he not have known?—but he’d never expected the pain and anger to stay with her for so long, to dominate her as it did in Crossroads. The spirit of the girl he loved was still there, but it had been tortured, ruthlessly.

  His tears came, hard and steady. He was glad to be alone in the library.

  Hzzzzzz.

  One of Cam’s tears had fallen onto the table, making a sizzling sound. He watched it burn a hole through the Formica, and then through the carpet underneath. Black smoke swirled up from the floor.

  Cam leapt to his feet, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his leather jacket—and watched his tears eat through the leather, too. What was happening?

  “Demons should never cry.”

  Cam turned to find Luc wearing a wireless headset, playing Doom on his tablet at the table behind Cam. How long had he been there?

  The devil threw off his headset. “Don’t you know what demon tears are made of?”

  “I’ve never had a reason to know,” Cam said.

  “Nasty stuff,” Luc said. “Toxic in the extreme. So be careful. Or don’t be—your call.”

  Cam glanced back at his phone, glad his tears hadn’t fallen on it. He quickly hit Send. Lucifer whistled under his breath.

  “You’re losing it,” Luc said. “Lilith’s going to hate that you just did that.”

  “If you interfere with this,” Cam said, “it invalidates our wager.”

  Lucifer chuckled. “You’re doing enough damage on your own, bud. You don’t need my help.” He paused. “In fact, your performance thus far is so pathetic, I feel sorry for you. So I’m going to throw you a bone.”

  The devil held out a Post-it note, which Cam snatched. “What is this?”

  “Lilith’s address,” Luc said. “She’s going to straight-up whale on you when you return the journal. Might be best to do it in private, not in front of the whole school.”

  Cam grabbed his messenger bag and pushed past the devil and through the library doors. There was an hour until the bell. Maybe Lilith would still be at home.

  He jogged to the back lot of the school, waited for a garbage truck to drive by, and then unpinned his wings. He felt good with his wings out. His hair could thin and his waist could thicken at Lucifer’s whim, but his wings would always be his most beautiful feature. Broad and strong and glittering in the smoky light and—

  Cam winced when he saw the tips of his wings looking thin and webbed, more like batwings than those of a glorious fallen angel. Another of Lucifer’s attacks on his vanity. Cam couldn’t let it paralyze him. He had twelve days left with Lilith, and far too much to do.

  Clouds of ash drifted over his wings as he soared into the sky. He felt the heat of the burning hills lick his body, so he flew higher, until suddenly, above him, the sky seemed to curve, and a translucent barrier appeared before him, just like the glass encasing the snow globes Lucifer had shown him in Aevum.

  He had reached the upper limits of Lilith’s Hell.

  From here, he could see everything. There wasn’t much. The main roads in the town—even the highway next to school—were all loops, which sent the cars that drove on them in endless, pointless circles. Beyond the widest ring of road was the ring of burning hills.

  Claustrophobia made his wings twitch. He had to break Lilith free of this place.

  Cam banked left and soared downward, toward a run-down neighborhood near the end of High Meadow Road. He pulled up short and hovered in the air, twenty feet above Lilith’s house. The roof was caving in in a few places, and the landscaping looked like it had been abandoned a decade ago. The air was particularly smoky in this part of town. It must have been an awful place to grow up.

  He heard her voice from below. She sounded angry. She always sounded angry. He quickly furled his wings and landed on the dead brown grass of her backyard.

  Lilith was sitting on the porch with a young boy who must have been her brother. At the sight of Cam rounding the corner, Lilith rose and balled her fists. “Where’s my journal?”

  Without speaking, Cam reached into his bag and handed the black book over. Their fingers touched as she took it from him, and Cam felt an electric surge through his body.

  He wished suddenly that he could keep that journal. Having it with him last night had been almost like having Lilith with him. Tonight, he’d sleep alone again.

  “Who’s he?” her brother asked, nodding at Cam.

  Cam held out his hand to the boy. “I’m Cam. What’s your name?”

  “Bruce,” the boy said brightly, before falling into a coughing fit. His hands and feet were big compared with the rest of him, like he should have been much larger but hadn’t managed to grow.

  “Don’t talk to him,” Lilith said to her brother, clutching Bruce with one arm and her journal with the other. She glanced up at Cam. “See what you did?”

  “Is he okay?” Cam asked.

  “Like you care.” She glanced at her journal. “You didn’t read it, did you?”

  He had memorized every word. “Of course not,” Cam said. He didn’t want to make a habit of lying to her, but this was different. She deserved to win that lyrics contest. If she did, Cam wanted her to be surprised. If she didn’t—because of Lucifer’s meddling—he didn’t want her to be disappointed.

  “Then why did you take it?” she asked.

  “So that I could give it back,” he said, which was true. “I know it’s important to you.” He dared a step closer and studied the way her hair caught the sunlight. “While I’m here, I also wanted to apologize.”

  Lilith tilted her head, suspicious. “I don’t have time for all the things you need to apologize for.”

  “That’s probably true,” Cam said. “I know I can come on strong sometimes. But when I bug you about starting a band, it’s only because I believe in you and your music. I like playing with you. But I’ll back off. At least I’ll try to. If you want me to.” He met her eyes. “Do you want me to?”

  For a moment Cam thought he saw a ray of light come into Lilith’s eyes. But maybe it was only wishful thinking.

  “I thought you’d never ask,” she said coldly. “Come on, Bruce. It’s time to check your oxygen.”

  The boy had stopped coughing by then. He was petting a little white dog who’d trotted out from the house. “Are you Lilith’s boyfriend?”

  Cam grinned. “I like this kid.”

  “Shut up,” Lilith said.

  “Well, is he?” Bruce asked Lilith. “Because if he’s your boyfriend, he’s going to have to win me over, too. Like with arcade games and ice cream and, like, teaching me to throw a baseball.”

  “Why stop there?” Cam asked. “I’ll teach you to throw a football, a punch, a poker match, and even”—he glanced at Lilith—“the coolest girl off her game.”

  “Poker,” Bruce whispered.

  “How about teaching yourself the fine art of leaving?” Lilith said to Cam.

  Cam heard a woman hollering Lilith’s name from inside the house. She got to her feet and guided Bruce toward the door.

  “Nice to meet you, Bruce.”

  “You too, Cam,” the little boy said. “I’ve never heard that name before. I’ll remember it.”

  “Don’t bother,” Lilith said, glaring at Cam before ushering the boy back inside. “You’ll never see him again.”

  Eleven Days

  Lilith had decided long ago that Trumbull’s lunchroom was nothing short of a torture chamber, but the next morning Cam slipped a note in her locker asking her to meet him in the band room during lunch—so there was no way she was going there. And while Rattlesnake Creek was always calling her name, today she was actually hungry.

  So the cafeteria it was. Just before noon, she entered the noisy labyrinth of sticky lunch tables. Conversations quieted and benches creaked the moment she stepped inside.

  For a second, she saw herself through their eyes: A hostile scowl pinching her lips. The feral look in her blue eyes. Cheap black jeans so busted they were more hole than denim. The tangled bright red hair no brush could tame. Even Lilith wouldn’t want to eat lunch with Lilith.

  “Did you find a dollar on the street? Or did you come to beg for scraps?” Chloe King said, appearing in Lilith’s path. Chloe held her tray casually with one hand. Her fingernails were lilac. Her mane of braids swished as she walked.

  “Leave me alone.” Lilith pushed past, knocking the tray out of Chloe’s hands, spilling her burger and fries to the floor and a carton of milk onto Chloe’s tight white suede minidress.

  “You’d better be glad this is white, or your broke-ass mom would be at the bank taking out a loan to buy me a new one.”

  The girls from her band, the Slights, came to Chloe’s side, each one in a different-colored pastel minidress. Suddenly, as if a spotlight had found them, Lilith could visualize their band onstage. They probably couldn’t play their instruments, but Chloe’s band would win the battle because everyone would think they looked hot. It wasn’t like Lilith even had a band anyway, but the thought of Chloe winning made her furious.

  “Are you listening?” Chloe said. “Hello?” She nudged her burger with the toe of her boot. “Maybe we should thank Lilith for reminding us not to eat the crap they serve here.”

  Her friends laughed predictably.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Lilith saw Cam enter the cafeteria, guitar case in hand. “I wouldn’t be caught dead at prom. I’m not entering the Battle of the Bands, so even someone who sings like you has a chance.”

  “Your mom came by my house the other night looking for work,” Chloe said. “Daddy felt sorry for her. I offered to let her clean my toilet—”

  “That’s a lie,” Lilith snarled.

  “Someone’s gotta pay the medical bills for your sick runt brother.”

  “Shut up,” Lilith said.

  “Of course, Daddy didn’t give your mom a dime.” Chloe buffed her nails against her dress. “He knows a bad investment when he sees one, and anyone can tell that kid’s a goner.”

  Lilith lunged forward, grabbed Chloe’s braids, and yanked them hard.

  Chloe’s head snapped back and her eyes watered as she fell to her knees. “Stop,” she said. “Please stop.”

  Lilith tightened her grip. People could say whatever they wanted about her, but no one put down her brother.

  “Let go, you animal!” The blond one—Kara—wailed, bouncing on her toes like she’d been sprung.

  “Should I be filming this for, like, evidence?” Chloe’s friend June asked, pulling out her phone.

  “Lilith—” Cam rested his hand on the nape of her neck. At his touch, something rushed through her, immobilizing her.

  Then her brain engaged. This was none of Cam’s business. She’d known from the moment she saw him that he was the kind of guy who hurt people. She took her fury out on Chloe’s head, tugging her braids harder. “Go away, Cam.”

  He didn’t. You’re better than this, his hand seemed to be telling her.

  Cam didn’t know the pain and stress and humiliation Lilith had to deal with on a daily basis. He didn’t know her at all.

  “What?” she demanded, turning to look at him. “What do you want?”

  He nodded toward Chloe. “Kick her ass.”

  June dropped her cell phone and leaped at Lilith, but Cam slipped between them and held her back. June bit his arm like a piranha.

  “Let her go!” Kara screamed at Cam. “Principal Tarkenton? Somebody? Help!”

  Lilith didn’t know if Tarkenton was in the cafeteria. It was hard to see much beyond the tight circle of twenty or so students that had gathered around them.

  “Fight! Fight! Fight!” the crowd chanted.

  And then—suddenly—it all just felt so stupid.

  Fighting Chloe wasn’t going to change anything. It wouldn’t make Lilith’s life better. If anything, it would make it worse. She could be expelled, and they could find an even worse place to send her to school. Lilith loosened her fingers and let go of Chloe, who slumped to the ground, rubbing her scalp.

  Kara, June, and Teresa rushed to help Chloe up.

  “Honey, are you hurt?” Kara asked.

  “How’s your strumming hand?” Teresa asked, lifting and flexing Chloe’s guitar-playing hand.

  Chloe reared up, baring her teeth at Lilith and Cam. “Why don’t you two run away and start your worthless lives together? I hear a meth lab calling your name.” She touched her temple and winced. “You’ve got top billing on my shit list, Lilith. You’d better watch yourself.”

  Chloe and her band stalked away. The crowd dispersed slowly, disappointed that there hadn’t been more of a fight.

  Lilith stood next to Cam, not feeling the need to say anything. She should have just let Chloe’s insults slide off her like she did every other day. Her mother would be furious when she heard about this.

  Cam pulled Lilith against the nearest cafeteria table to let a few students walk past. But when the students were gone, he didn’t let her go. She felt his hand on the small of her back and, for some reason, she didn’t flick it off.

  “Don’t let the bitches get you down,” he said.

  Lilith rolled her eyes. “Transcend girls who think they’re better than me by pretending I’m better than them? Thanks for the advice.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Cam said.

  “But you just called them bitches.”

  “Chloe is playing a role,” Cam said, “like an actress.”

  “What are you doing, Cam?” she said, feeling tired. “Why egg me on to fight Chloe? Why try to cheer me up now? Why pretend to be interested in my music? You don’t know me, so why do you care?”

 
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