Unforgiven

by Lauren Kate

  Lilith was transfixed, too. The people here shared a hungry, nervous look in their eyes. But not Cam. Beneath his exhaustion, he radiated a serenity that suggested nothing in this place could touch him. Maybe nothing in this world could touch him. It was one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen. She wanted to be that way, too: at peace with herself, autonomous, free.

  "I kind of get the feeling he does live here," Jean said.

  "If you can call this living," Luis said, and started walking toward him. "He doesn't have to be here. We've got two extra bedrooms at my house. I'm sure my parents would let him crash."

  "Wait." Lilith held him back. "It might embarrass him that we tracked him down here." Lilith knew it would embarrass her if the situation were reversed. "Let's talk to him tomorrow."

  She watched as Cam strolled over to a burning trash can where a father was cooking two hot dogs for four small children over a metal grate. He cut each dog in two and turned them over on the grill, but when Cam paused before him, the man started to cut one of the hot dogs into smaller pieces.

  "Hungry?" he said, and offered Cam a quarter of a dog.

  "No," Cam said. "Thank you. Actually..." He reached inside his messenger bag and pulled out a foil-wrapped parcel. "You guys should have this."

  The man unwrapped it and found a giant deli sandwich. He blinked at Cam and took a huge bite, then divided the rest between his children. As they ate, he hugged Cam in gratitude.

  When they'd finished eating, the oldest boy--he looked about Bruce's age--held out a beat-up guitar. Cam tousled the boy's hair, then took a seat among them. He tried tuning it, but Lilith could hear it was hopeless. Two of the strings were broken. Still, Cam didn't give up, and soon the guitar sounded a little better than it had before.

  "Any requests?" he said.

  "A lullaby," the youngest boy said with a yawn.

  Cam thought a moment. "I learned this one from a talented musician," he said, "named Lilith."

  When Cam broke into the first bars of "Exile," Lilith sucked in her breath. Cam sang her song beautifully, slowly and with great emotion, bringing to it a depth she'd never imagined possible. He sang it twice. By the time he finished, the children in the group were nodding into sleep. Behind them, their father applauded Cam softly.

  "Whoa," Jean whispered.

  "Yeah," Lilith said. She was shaking, near tears, so moved that she could say no more.

  "We should go," Luis said.

  Hours earlier, Lilith had been certain she'd written Cam off for the last time. Now she followed her friends to Jean's car feeling dizzy, as if the world around her were shifting with each step.

  The only thing she was sure of was how wrong she'd been about Cam.

  Six Days

  Cam woke in a green tent on Dobbs Street with a stiff back and a stray dog at his feet. He'd slept here a couple times since he arrived in Crossroads. It was less lonesome than the roof of the Trumbull gym.

  He nudged the dog off and peeked outside at the pale pink sunrise. Mornings started early here. Everyone was hungry, bleary from a rough night. The soup kitchen opened at seven, and Cam had volunteered to work the breakfast shift before he went to school.

  He meandered down the street, passing families getting ready for the day, unzipping their tents, stretching their limbs, rocking fussy babies. At the abandoned office building that had been repurposed as a soup kitchen, he pushed open the glass door.

  "Morning." A gaunt older man named Jax welcomed Cam inside. "You can start right there." He nodded toward the dented steel counter where a giant box of Bisquick sat beside a mixing bowl.

  Not a lot of small talk--which was fine by Cam. He added the milk and eggs and started mixing up the pancake batter, knowing that the Ballard boys, who loved his music, would be among the first in line. Half a hot dog and a few bites of sandwich was no kind of dinner for a growing kid. In a short time, Cam had come to care about the families that lived on Dobbs Street. He was addicted to mortal lives, and not just Lilith's. Humans fascinated him. All those little flames, forever lighting and going out.

  "You okay there, Cam?" Jax asked from the range, where he was grilling slices of Spam. "You don't look so good."

  Cam put down the bowl of pancake batter and walked toward the tinted window to look at his reflection. His green eyes were recessed behind dark purple sockets. Since when did he have jowls? And now even his hands looked ancient, mottled and wrinkly.

  "I'm okay," he said, but his voice faltered. He looked--and felt--awful.

  "Get yourself some breakfast before school," Jax said kindly, patting Cam on the back, as if a plate of pancakes would make every problem the devil was serving him simply fade away.

  "Cam--"

  Lilith found him at his locker before homeroom. He'd flown from Dobbs Street to campus so he could squeeze in a shower before the locker room filled up with track-team kids. He had thought a shower would make him look a little bit better, but when he'd dressed for school, the mirror in the locker room had been just as unkind as the soup-kitchen window.

  Even his feet were changing now, turning black and cloven, like the hooves of the damned. He could no longer fit into his own boots. He'd had to steal a pair from a motorcycle shop downtown.

  "Hey." Cam couldn't help but stare at Lilith's lovely face.

  "How are you?" she asked softly.

  "Been better." It wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to admit, but the truth slipped out before he could censor it.

  Kids streamed past them through the hall. Everyone was talking about prom. Someone kicked a soccer ball at Cam's head. He ducked just in time.

  "Anything I can do to help?" Lilith said, leaning against his locker and offering him a slight smile. She was wearing a Four Horsemen T-shirt tied in a knot at her narrow waist. Her hair was still wet from her shower, and it smelled like freesias. He couldn't help leaning in.

  Remember me, he longed to say, because if she could remember Cam as he'd been when they first fell in love, she wouldn't only see him as the withering shell he was today.

  "I thought you were mad at me," he said.

  To his amazement, Lilith reached for his hand. Her fingers were cool and strong, calloused at the tips where she strummed her guitar. "There are more important things to worry about," she said.

  Cam seized his chance and stepped closer, yearning to move his hand to her hair. He knew how it would feel: damp and gloriously soft, just as it had been in Canaan when she lay in his arms by the riverbank after a swim, her hair splayed against his bare chest.

  "What could be more important than your trust?" he asked.

  Lilith tilted her head toward Cam. A dreamy look came into her eyes, replacing the suspicion he'd grown accustomed to in this Hell. Her lips parted. Cam held his breath--

  "So, kids..." Jean Rah appeared before them and raised his green plastic sunglasses. "Do we have a band, or what?"

  Lilith stepped back and tugged down the hem of her shorts. She looked embarrassed, like someone coming out of hypnosis who couldn't remember what had happened a moment before.

  Cam knew Jean meant well, but right at that moment he could have hit him.

  "I assume that since you two are speaking," Jean continued, seeing the look in Cam's eyes, "you've made up and we can once again--"

  "We were just working on that," Lilith said.

  "Work faster," Jean said, and snapped his fingers. "We have an important matter to discuss re prom." He nudged Lilith. "Have you asked him yet?"

  "Asked me what?" Cam said.

  "To prom," Jean said.

  Lilith's face started turning many shades of red as Cam's eyebrows shot up. He'd been waiting for a far more romantic moment to ask her to prom. Was she actually planning to ask him?

  "Of course," he blurted out. "I'd love to."

  Jean winced. "No, man, that was a joke. Sorry. I thought you'd laugh. Thought you'd both laugh--"

  Cam gulped. "Hilarious."

  "I don't need a date to play a son
g with my band," Lilith said. "So everybody just chill."

  "Yeah, Prom King," Jean said, laughing. "Chill."

  Cam shoved him into a locker. "Thanks, man."

  "But I was wondering, Cam," Lilith said, twirling a lock of her red hair, "if you'd consider rejoining the band." She glanced at Jean. "There. That's it. Okay?"

  "Okay," Cam said, knowing better than to question what had made her change her mind. "Of course. I'd love to."

  Jean placed one arm on Cam's shoulder, the other on Lilith's. "Now that that's settled, we can get down to business," he said. "Meet me in the parking lot right after school. We're going on a field trip."

  "Destination where?" Cam asked. Whatever Jean's plans involved, Cam liked the idea of getting off Trumbull's campus with Lilith.

  "Shopping for prom, the Battle of the Bands, aka our debut performance." Jean tapped the face of his watch. "It's six days away and we have no look."

  "Jean, I sit next to Kimi in poetry," Lilith said. "I know about the cranberry satin cummerbund you special ordered to match her prom dress."

  Cam burst out laughing.

  "You shut up, and you shut up," Jean said, pointing at each of them. "Yes, I will be wearing a cranberry satin cummerbund for a portion of prom." He shook his head ruefully. "But not when Revenge performs. For that, we need to pull out all the stops."

  Lilith looked down at her jean shorts. "I was just gonna wear--"

  "We cannot wear our everyday clothes onstage!" Jean said, more serious than Cam had ever seen him. "We don't want our audience to look at us like they do now."

  Cam cleared his throat and glanced down at his boots. Was Jean suggesting he not wear them onstage? Unfortunately, he didn't have much choice. He looked around the hall at the kids hurrying to class. "I'm not sure they see us at all."

  Jean rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean. You don't want that guy Luc to see you onstage and think of you sitting in detention, do you?"

  "Probably not," Cam admitted, though he knew no costume would disguise him from Lucifer.

  "He needs to think you're from another world," Jean continued.

  "We're only playing one song," Lilith said. "Seems like a waste for aliens to come all the way from outer space just to play one song."

  "Rock is about waste," Jean said. "Wasted time, wasted youth, wasted talent, wasted money."

  Cam wondered where Lilith's apprehension about the new look was coming from; then he realized: She probably couldn't afford anything new. But that shouldn't stop her from finding something special. He would figure out a way to help her.

  "Jean's right," Cam said to Lilith. "We need a unified look. Just not a pricey one. I can't afford a lot at the moment."

  "No worries," Jean said, and Cam watched Lilith breathe a sigh of relief. "I can work with a budget. So we'll meet at three-forty-five and head to the Salvation Army."

  Cam scratched his head. His leather jacket had been handmade in 1509 in Florence by Bartolomeo himself. He'd taken his last pair of boots from a dead American infantryman in a Rhineland field in 1945. His jeans were from the first batch made in 1873 by Levi Strauss. He'd brought them directly to Savile Row to be altered.

  Oh, how times had changed.

  "I'm in," Lilith said, just before the bell rang. "Meet you after school. By the way, Cam, I like your new boots."

  "You, come with me, right now." Tarkenton grabbed Cam by the collar during lunch, when he was hoping to slink off to Rattlesnake Creek. He'd managed to swipe a cool black satin guitar strap at a music shop yesterday, and he wanted to leave it as a gift for Lilith on the antique desk.

  "What am I being charged with?" Cam asked as Tarkenton dragged him back inside the cafeteria.

  "Failure to fulfill your duties as a member of the prom court. Miss King informs me that you've skipped five of the meetings already, and you're not skipping another on my watch."

  Cam groaned. "Isn't there some waiver I can sign to opt out? There's gotta be some other kid who actually wants my spot."

  Tarkenton steered Cam to a table in the center of the cafeteria, where Chloe King was sitting with the other girls in her band and three guys Cam had thus far successfully avoided knowing. They were sharing a pizza, all leaning in together and whispering. Everyone stopped talking as soon as they saw Cam.

  "Sit down," Tarkenton ordered, "shape up, and start brainstorming colors for the balloon banner like a normal teenager." The principal motioned Cam toward the last empty seat.

  "If I sit, will you go away?" Cam muttered as Tarkenton finally disappeared. Immediately, Chloe slid the box of pizza to the center of the table, out of Cam's reach.

  "Don't give me that look," she said. "I'm helping. I'm sure you want to shed some pre-prom pounds. Trust me, you don't need this pizza."

  "Don't be mean, Chloe," joked a square-headed boy named Dean. "Let the fatty have his fix."

  The whole table started laughing. Cam couldn't care less what these kids thought of him. He only cared about the time they were sucking from him. He should have been either with Lilith or doing something special for her.

  Just then, a folded piece of paper dropped onto the table in front of him. Cam looked up and saw Lilith passing by, carrying her lunch tray. She nodded at the note. Cam's name was written on the outside in black. He unfolded it.

  HANG IN THERE....ONLY THREE HOURS TILL OUR FIELD TRIP.

  Buoyed with happiness, he turned back to watch Lilith. She had taken a seat at the far end of the cafeteria, next to Jean and Luis. She was eating a bright red apple and laughing. She seemed to feel Cam's gaze on her and looked over, all the way across the cafeteria, to offer him a dazzling, sympathetic smile.

  Chloe could take that pizza and shove it. Lilith's smile was all the nourishment Cam needed.

  After school, Jean's Honda squealed into the Salvation Army parking lot and shuddered to a stop, straddling two spaces. Cam's fingers touched Lilith's as he pulled himself out of the back. When he looked up, she was smiling. It was the same smile she'd given him in the cafeteria, the smile that had helped Cam survive the thirty-five minutes of the prom planning meeting.

  Cam had no opinion on where the photo booth should be placed at prom, or whether the DJ should wear a tux or something more casual, or if they needed flowers to decorate the table where the memory books would be signed.

  But he did have a strong opinion on getting Lilith to be his date.

  Things were going well today, and there was no new sign of Luc meddling, so Cam was feeling optimistic. But he still had work to do. He needed this trip to the Salvation Army to feel as romantic as a trip to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

  "Divide and conquer," Jean said, beckoning them into the thrift store. The place smelled like mothballs spritzed with cat urine, mixed with a whiff of stale vanilla perfume. "Experiment. Have fun."

  "But remember," Luis added, holding the door open for Lilith, "we're looking for costumes that elevate our stage presence."

  Cam glanced at the freshman and laughed. "Whoa. What got into you?"

  "I got a prom date," Luis said, doing a little dance. "No biggie."

  "You finally asked her?" Jean asked, then grinned at Cam. "He's been drooling over Karen Walker all semester."

  "Way to go, Luis," Lilith said, and high-fived the drummer, but as she started down an aisle overflowing with hats, Cam wondered if he'd heard a hint of envy in her voice. Even Luis had a prom date now.

  Cam followed Lilith to a high wall of lime-green shelves, impressed that she'd sought out the most interesting section of the store so quickly. Cam had shopped at, donated to, and even worked in at least a hundred vintage stores over the years. He could step inside any one and know where the shoes and light fixtures were and how to find the really cool old suits.

  Lilith seemed to have the same gift. She rose onto her toes to slide a three-piece navy pin-striped suit down from the shelf. She held the pants up to Cam, nodding approval. "Thoughts?"

  "Dynamite." He took the suit, then picked throu
gh the rest, pausing at a glen-plaid one that was smaller than the others and looked spotless. Cam knew the jacket would plunge enticingly on Lilith, and that the pants would hug her just right.

  "Oh, I love this," she said as he handed it to her. "Do you think I can pull it off?"

  "I don't know if this town can handle how good you will look in that suit," he said.

  "Really?" She examined it, looking for stains. "I'll try it on."

  Cam flagged a tall lady wearing a name tag. "Would you mind showing us to your changing rooms?"

  "In the back," the woman said, leading Cam and Lilith to a corner sectioned off by a yellow flannel curtain.

  "In you go, kid," Cam said.

  The dressing room was a mess, with old frocks and ponchos and fedoras and pajamas sharing hangers and wall pegs. It looked like anything that had been tried on and discarded in the past decade had just been left there in a heap.

  "Come on in," Lilith said, and tugged the curtain closed behind them both.

  Inside, the light was different; the incandescent bulbs mellowed to a softer, almost romantic glow through their dusty shades.

  "Turn around while I put this on," she said.

  "You don't want me to wait outside?" Cam asked.

  "I told you what I want," Lilith said. "Turn around."

  Cam followed her instructions. He listened to the sounds she made when she moved, the soft breaths she took, the plunk of her backpack dropping to the floor, the snap of the elastic band when she threw her hair up in a ponytail. Something brushed his shoulder, and he realized Lilith was undressing. With all the clothes heaped back here, there wasn't much space to move in the dressing room, so as Lilith shimmied out of her jeans, her bare hip bumped against Cam. His wings burned with the urge to let loose.

  "You gonna try on your clothes, or what?" Lilith said.

  It was a thrilling feeling, knowing there was something dangerously sexy going on behind him but not being able to see any of it, any of her. Cam felt like he and Lilith had a secret, a moment that was just theirs.

  "Right." He pulled off his jacket.

  Soon, they were standing bare back to bare back. The touch of Lilith's skin in the quiet curtained space was transporting. They could have been right back at the Jordan River. His body could recognize each curve of hers unseen.