Unforgiven (22 page)

Lilith gestured at the heap of clothes piled against the back wall, but Cam couldn't take his eyes off her. He blinked and saw his bride-to-be, sunlight dappling her shoulders as she stood beside him at the Jordan River three thousand years ago. He remembered precisely the way that feather-light fabric had felt between his fingers when he wrapped his arms around her. He remembered the way its train had trailed as she left him.

It couldn't be. The fabric would have deteriorated long ago. But in this gown, Lilith looked exactly like the girl he'd lost.

Cam leaned against the rack of clothes, feeling faint.

“What?” Lilith asked.

“What
what
?” Cam replied.

“I look bad in this, obviously.”

“I didn't say that.”

“But you were thinking it.”

“If you could read my mind, you'd apologize for that comment.”

Lilith stared down at the dress. “It was supposed to be a joke.” She paused. “It's stupid, I know, but, for some reason, I…wanted you to like the way I looked in it.”

She left the dressing room to stand before the mirror outside. Cam followed, watching her finger the embroidery at her waist. He watched the skirt swish as she swiveled her hips a little. A change came over her expression. Her eyes turned dreamy again. He took a step closer.

Was it possible? Was she remembering something from their past?

“You are the most remarkable creature I have ever seen—” he said before he knew what he was doing.

“We
must
marry in the temple,” she said sharply.

“What?” Cam blinked, but then the answer came to him. They had spoken these same words to one another before, on the riverbank in Canaan, the last time she wore this dress.

Lilith met his gaze in the mirror. Suddenly, anger flooded her eyes, contorting her features. She spun to face him, full of fury. The past she couldn't remember was rippling forward into the present. He could see that Lilith was confused by
why
she felt so angry but absolutely certain that it had everything to do with Cam.

“Lilith,” he said. He wanted to tell her the whole truth. It gutted him to understand what she was feeling better than she could.

But before he could say anything more, Lilith burst out laughing. The sound was forced, not her natural melodic laugh. “What was
that
?” she said. “Sorry. I feel like an idiot.”

Cam attempted a laugh. “Were you joking?”

“Maybe.” Lilith tugged at the buttons at the back of her neck like the dress was choking her. “But my anger feels so real. Like I want to rip your face from your skull with my fingernails.”

“Whoa,” Cam managed to say.

“But the weirdest part of it,” Lilith continued, studying him, “is that you're acting like you deserve it. I'm furious with you, and I have no idea why. But it's almost like
you
do.” She pressed her fists against her temples. “Am I going crazy?”

He studied the embroidered vine climbing her torso. He had to get her out of that dress.

“I liked the other one better,” he lied, returning to the dressing room and picking the modern blue dress up from the floor. It looked cheap and forgettable next to Lilith's wedding gown. “Here, let me help you out of this old thing. It smells like mothballs.”

But Lilith brushed Cam's hand away from the buttons near her neck.

“I should buy this one.” Her voice was faraway. “It makes me feel more like…myself.” She called to the sales clerk, “How much for this dress?”

“I've never seen that one before,” came the woman's response a moment later. “Either it just came in, or it's been in that pile in the dressing room for ages.”

Cam knew it was the former—and he also knew who had brought it there.

“What's your best price?” Lilith said, and Cam heard her unzipping her backpack and fumbling through her wallet. “I've got…two dollars and fifty…three cents.”

Cam went after her. “Maybe you shouldn't—”

“Well,” the saleswoman said. “Dresses are half-off on Fridays, and most people around here have kind of a different style than…whatever that is. I'll take your two fifty-three at the register.”

“Wait—” Cam started to say.

“Great,” Lilith said, swishing away from him down the aisle, still wearing the dress.

As Cam changed back into his clothes, he spotted a tiny carved-wood gargoyle sitting atop a shelf of knickknacks, looking out over the changing room. Cam and Lilith were finally getting along. But Lucifer couldn't have that. In order to win the bet, he needed Lilith to stay trapped—even clothed—in her rage. And she had never been angrier at Cam than on the last day she'd worn this dress.

Now, three millennia later, she would wear it again, and feel that fury again—on prom night, when Cam would need her forgiveness most.

Five Days

“C
an I take this thing off yet?” Bruce asked on Saturday, tugging at the T-shirt Lilith had knotted around his head as a blindfold.

“You can take it off when I say you can take it off,” Lilith told him. From her seat on the Crossroads public bus, she pressed the yellow Exit button to signal the driver to make the next stop. Aside from the elderly couple sharing a Twix at the front of the bus, Lilith and Bruce were the only passengers.

“It's itchy,” Bruce whined. “And it smells.”

“But it's going to be
so
worth it.” Lilith clamped her hand over her little brother's eyes, because if she were him, she'd definitely be peeking. “Now, come on.”

Lilith's stomach knotted as the bus hit a series of potholes. She was nervous. She wanted this to be special, something Bruce would remember. She couldn't wait to see his face when she unveiled the surprise.

When the bus pulled over, Lilith guided Bruce down the steps and across an intersection, then paused before a storefront, patting her pocket to make sure she still had the cash her mom had given her.

When her mom had discovered all the groceries stocking their fridge a couple of days ago, she'd grilled Lilith on where she'd gotten them. Lilith had lied—no way was she going into the story of Cam with her mom—saying she was giving guitar lessons to a kid from school for a little extra cash. Her mom had looked at Lilith with genuine surprise, then she'd done something unprecedented: she had hugged her daughter.

Lilith was so surprised that she'd let the hug linger.

And then last night, when her mom got home from work, she'd knocked on Lilith's door. Lilith had been staring into her closet, but she'd quickly shut its door, concealing the strange white gown hanging inside. She'd already tried it on twice since she got back from the thrift store. It made her feel hungry for something she couldn't put into words. It was so not rock and roll, but it fit Lilith better than anything she'd ever worn. She couldn't stop thinking about the look Cam had given her when she turned to him in the dressing room.

“Hey, Mom,” she said casually, opening her door.

Her mother held out a twenty-dollar bill.

“What's this?”

“I think they call it an allowance,” her mom said with a smile. “Had a little extra this week, since you took care of the groceries.” She paused. “That was really generous of you, Lilith.”

“Sure,” Lilith said. “No big deal.”

“It is to me.” She nodded at the money in Lilith's hand. “Have some fun. Take Bruce with you.”

So she did.

“Where are we?” Bruce whined, scratching his forehead where the blindfold was tight.

Taking his hand, Lilith pushed through the tinted door into Lanes, Crossroads's only bowling alley. She was hit by the blast of air-conditioning; the smell of cheap, oregano-heavy pizza and pungent nacho cheese; the flashing lights above the lanes; the sugar-fueled shrieks of a hundred kids.

And then, rising above everything else: the crackle of a bowling ball knocking down ten pins.

“Striiiike!”
Bruce shouted, still blindfolded, fists raised in the air.

Lilith yanked off the blindfold. “How did you know?”

Her brother's eyes widened. He staggered forward, then froze, resting his elbows on a ball-polishing machine. “I didn't,” he finally said. “I was pretending.”

Then the wind was knocked out of her as Bruce slammed into her with a full-body hug.

“I've wanted to come here my whole life!” he shouted. “I've begged Mom to take me here every day! And she always said—”

“I know,” Lilith said.

“ ‘If you ever get well, son,' ” Lilith and Bruce said together, imitating their mother's tired voice.

Since Bruce's last trip to the hospital, their mother had had moments of brightness, even kindness, like the night before. But this morning, when Lilith had invited her to join them at Lanes, she'd snapped at Lilith for not remembering she had agreed to pick up a shift at the night school.

“Now I'm better.” Bruce laughed as if he still couldn't believe it. “And so we're here! Thank you!”

“My pleasure. Mom's pleasure, actually,” Lilith said, showing Bruce the cash.

“This is amazing!”

Lilith blinked back happy tears as she watched her brother take it all in. He was mesmerized by the sight of a girl his age staggering under the weight of a glittering bowling ball, by the kids chewing pizza, waiting for their turn to bowl. He got to be a normal kid too rarely.

She glanced around the bowling alley and was surprised to spot Karen Walker from her bio class bowling in a lane on the far side of the room. She was with a few girls Lilith recognized from school, all of whom cheered for Karen as she celebrated a strike.

Karen was shy, but she'd never been rude to Lilith, and she was going to prom with Luis, which earned her points in Lilith's book. Plus, she had to be a little interested in music, because she'd agreed to be Chloe King's guitar tech. Lilith had never considered that she might be friends with Karen, but now it seemed silly not to go over and say hello.

“I'll get us some shoes,” Lilith said.

“I don't want to bowl,” Bruce said, shaking his head.

Lilith gaped at him. “You don't?”

“Duh.” His eyes lit up as he pointed at a dark doorway past the vending machines. Red, yellow, and green lights blinked above its cavelike entrance. “The arcade.”

Lilith smiled. She looked toward Karen Walker's lane again, but this was Bruce's day. Maybe she'd talk to Karen tomorrow.

“Lead the way,” she told her brother.

She followed Bruce into the game room, surprised at how comforting it was. There were no windows or overhead lights. No one looked anyone else in the eye. Everyone was free to focus on his or her own fantasy, be it blood-soaked or checker-flagged.

Bruce examined each of the games, spending a long time looking at a frightening green demon painted on the side of a game called
Deathspike.
Soon they were standing before an air-hockey table. Bruce picked up one of the glow-in-the-dark paddles and slid it around, making slashing noises.

“Come on,” he told Lilith, sliding the other paddle her way. “Let's play.”

She slid quarters into the slots beneath the air-hockey table. Bruce squealed as the cool air rushed from the tiny holes.

“Are you ready to get your butt handed to you on a plate?”

“You did not just ask me that,” Lilith said, snatching up the other paddle and taking her position behind the goal. Bruce was so excited; Lilith found the feeling was contagious.

“I'm not sick anymore,” her brother said, “so none of this letting-Brucey-win crap, okay?”

“Now you're asking for it,” Lilith said.

Neither of them had ever played air hockey before, but there seemed to be two methods of serving the puck: dead straight or banked off the side. Bank the puck and your opponent had to lunge and jerk like a fool. Shoot straight and humiliate him when the puck slapped the back of the goal.

Bruce was a banker. He tried three times to score off his serve, then switched to shadier tactics. He kept the puck in his corner an uncomfortably long time, then pointed over her shoulder and called, “Hey, what's that over there?” just before striking the puck her way.

“Nice try,” Lilith said as she sent a straight shot into his goal.

She dominated the first half of the game, but Bruce never flagged. He seemed to be having the time of his life.

When the score was tied five-five, “Bye Bye Love” by the Everly Brothers came through the speakers. Lilith began singing along, not realizing what she was doing until Bruce started singing with her. They hadn't done this in years. Her brother had a dazzling voice, staying in tune even as he whacked the hockey puck with all his might.

Then, from the darkness behind Lilith, a third voice began to harmonize with theirs. She turned to see Cam leaning against
Ms. Pac-Man,
watching them, and she gave up an important goal.

“Yesssss!” Bruce cheered. “Thanks, Cam!”

“What are you doing here?” Lilith asked.

“Don't stop playing—or singing—on my account,” Cam said. He was wearing a black knit hat and black sunglasses, his motorcycle jacket zipped up. Lilith liked the way he looked. “Your voices hang together like a sailor's knot.”

“What does that mean?” Bruce asked.

“Your bond is strong,” Cam said. “There's no music more beautiful than sibling harmony.”

“Do you have siblings?” Lilith asked. He never talked about his family or his past. She thought about her trip to Dobbs Street and the green tent she'd seen him step out of. Was that really where he lived? Did he share it with anyone else? The more time she spent with Cam, the stranger it felt to know so little about him.

“More importantly,” Bruce said, taking advantage of Lilith's distraction and somehow sliding in the final goal. “Do you want to play the winner?”

“You know, I have never had that honor,” Cam said, and smiled at Lilith.

She held out her paddle. “Be my guest.”

Cam took off his sunglasses and left them on a cocktail table with his phone. He took the paddle from Lilith, and this time, when their fingers touched, Lilith was the one who stayed still to let it last a little longer. Cam noticed—she could tell from the way he smiled at her as he stepped into position, and the way his gaze stayed on her even though he was about to play. Lilith blushed as she slipped in another batch of quarters and the game began.

Bruce smoked Cam with his first serve. Cam tried to bank the puck but hit it directly into Bruce's corner. Bruce pried the puck free and slapped it into Cam's goal in a flash.

“Yes!” Bruce shouted.

“Earthly objects should not travel at such speeds,” Cam said.

Charmed by how seriously he played with her brother, Lilith pulled a black stool from under the cocktail table and sat down.

Cam was a lunger; his body moved wildly back and forth as he swung his paddle. But he didn't move fast enough, whether or not he was letting Lilith's brother dominate on purpose. Bruce seemed to get better with each goal he scored.

This was good. The two of them, bonding. Since their dad skipped town, Bruce hadn't had many guys to look up to, but he clicked with Cam right away. Lilith knew why. Cam was fun, unpredictable. It was exciting to be around him.

A flashing light drew Lilith's attention, and she peered down at Cam's phone. A brief glance told her he'd just received an email. A longer, less innocent stare told her the subject:
“Somebody's Other Blues” by Lilith Foscor.

“How did you score another goal? I didn't even see the puck!” Cam shouted at Bruce.

Lilith's fingers inched toward the phone to light the screen again. This time she saw the sender's name: Ike Ligon.

“What in the world?” she whispered.

She was not proud of what happened next.

She glanced once more at Cam's back as he met Bruce's serve. Then her finger slid across the touch screen to open the email.

Dear Lilith,

I read your lyrics. I could tell right away that you've got the songwriting bug pretty bad. You've got talent. Real talent. I know King Media has plans for announcing the winner of the contest, but I wanted to reach out, too. You win, kid. You killed it. Congrats. I can't wait to meet you and shake your hand.

Lilith let the phone go black.

Ike Ligon liked her song?

Her face scrunched up. It didn't seem possible. Out of everyone at school, she had won?

Even after she'd gotten over being mad at Cam for sending in the lyrics, Lilith had never expected to win. Chloe King was supposed to win, because Chloe King won everything, and that was the way the world worked. So what was up with this email?