by Lauren Kate
A youthful figure with wavy auburn hair stood behind its counter, wearing a white T-shirt, jeans, and a flat white chef's hat. He was cooking something Cam couldn't see.
The devil's post-Fall guise could be anything, but Cam always recognized Lucifer by the searing heat that emanated from him. Though twenty feet separated them, it felt like Cam was standing right over a hot grill.
"Where are we?" Cam called.
Lucifer glanced over and gave Cam a strange, alluring smile. He had the face of a handsome, charismatic twenty-two-year-old, a dusting of freckles on his nose.
"This is Aevum--sometimes referred to as Limbo," the devil said, picking up a large spatula. "It is a state of being between time and eternity, and I'm running a special for first-time customers."
"I'm not hungry," Cam said.
Lucifer's wild eyes sparkled as he used the spatula to flip something sizzling onto a brown cafeteria tray. Then he moved behind a beige cash register and raised the plastic divider separating the little kitchen from the food court.
He rolled his shoulders and released his wings, which were huge and stiff and greenish-gold, like ancient, tarnished jewelry. Cam held his breath against their repulsive, musty smell and the tiny black damned critters that scuttled and nested in the folds.
With the cafeteria tray held high, Lucifer approached Cam. He narrowed his eyes at Cam's wings, where the fissure of white still glowed against the gold. "White's not a good color on you. Something you want to tell me?"
"What's she doing in Hell, Lucifer?"
Lilith had been one of the most virtuous people Cam had ever known. He couldn't fathom how she could ever have become one of Lucifer's subjects.
"You know I can't betray a confidence." Lucifer smiled and set the plastic tray down in front of Cam. On it was a tiny snow globe with a golden base.
"What is this?" he asked. Dark gray ash filled the snow globe. It fell ceaselessly, magically, nearly obscuring the tiny lyre floating inside.
"See for yourself," Lucifer said. "Turn it over."
He turned the globe upside down and found a little golden knob at its base. He wound it and let the lyre's music wash over him. It was the same melody he'd been humming since he flew away from Troy: Lilith's song. That was how he thought of it.
He closed his eyes and was back on the riverbank in Canaan, three millennia ago, listening to her play.
This cheap music-box version was more piercing than Cam could have anticipated. His fingers tensed around the globe. Then--
Pop.
The snow globe shattered. The music dwindled as blood trickled down Cam's palm.
Lucifer tossed him a reeking gray dishrag and gestured for him to clean up the mess. "Lucky for you I have so many." He nodded at the table behind Cam. "Go ahead, try another. Each one's a little different!"
Cam set down the shards of the first snow globe, wiped his hands, and watched the cuts in his palms heal. Then he turned and looked again at the food court: in the center of each of the once-empty orange tables was a snow globe atop a brown plastic tray. The number of tables in the food court had grown--there was now a sea of them, stretching into the dim distance.
Cam reached for the globe on the table behind him.
"Gently," Lucifer said.
Inside this globe was a tiny violin. Cam turned the knob and heard a different version of the same bittersweet song.
The third globe contained a miniature cello.
Lucifer sat down and kicked his feet up as Cam moved around the food court, winding each snow globe into music. There were sitars, harps, violas. Lap steel guitars, balalaikas, mandolins--each one playing an ode to Lilith's broken heart. "These globes...," Cam said slowly. "They represent all the different Hells you've trapped her in."
"And every time she dies in one of them," Lucifer said, "she ends up back here, where she is reminded anew of your betrayal." He stood and paced the aisles between tables, taking in his creations with pride. "And then, to keep things interesting, I banish her to a new Hell crafted especially for her." Lucifer grinned, exposing rows of razor-sharp teeth. "I really can't say what's worse--the endless Hells I subject her to again and again, or having to come back here and remember how much she hates you. But that's what keeps her going--her anger and her hatred."
"Of me." Cam swallowed.
"I work with the material I'm given. It's not my fault you betrayed her." Lucifer let out a laugh that made Cam's eardrums pulse. "Want to know my favorite twist in Lilith's current Hell? No weekends! School every day of the year. Can you imagine?" Lucifer lifted a snow globe into the air, then let it fall to the ground and shatter. "As far as she's concerned, she's a typically gloomy teenager, suffering through a typically gloomy high school experience."
"Why Lilith?" Cam asked. "Do you craft everyone's Hell this way?"
Lucifer smiled. "The dull ones make their own dull hells, fire and brimstone and all that crap. They need no help from me. But Lilith--she's special. Not that I have to tell you that."
"What about the people suffering with her? Those kids at her school, her family--"
"Pawns," Lucifer said. "Brought here from Purgatory to play a bit part in someone else's story--which is a hell of another sort."
"I don't get it," Cam said. "You've made her existence utterly miserable--"
"Oh, I can't take all the credit," Lucifer said. "You helped!"
Cam ignored the guilt he felt lest it choke him. "But you've allowed her one thing she dearly loves. Why do you let her play music?"
"Existence is never so miserable as when you have a taste of something beautiful," Lucifer said. "It serves to remind you of everything you can never have."
Everything you can never have.
Luce and Daniel had shaken something loose in Cam, something he thought was lost for good: his ability to love. The realization that such a thing was possible for him, that he might have a second chance, had made him yearn to see Lilith.
Now that he had, now that he knew she was here...
He had to do something.
"I need to see her again," Cam said. "That was too short--"
"I've done you enough favors," Lucifer said with a snarl. "I showed you what eternity is like for her. I didn't have to do even that."
Cam scanned the endless snow globes. "I can't believe you hid all this from me."
"I didn't hide her; you didn't care," Lucifer said. "You were always too busy. Luce and Daniel, the popular crowd at Sword and Cross, all that jazz. But now...well, would you like to see some of Lilith's previous Hells? It'll be fun."
Without waiting for an answer, Lucifer put his palm on the back of Cam's head and pushed it at one of the snow globes. Cam squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for his face to smash into the glass--
Instead:
He stood with Lucifer beside a vast river delta. Torrential rain poured from the sky. People ran from a row of huts, clutching belongings, panic on their faces as the river swelled against its banks. Across the river, a girl with a sad, calm expression walked slowly, carrying a sitar, in stark contrast to the chaos around her. Though she looked nothing like the Lilith he had loved in Canaan or the girl he had just met in Crossroads, Cam recognized her instantly.
She was walking toward the surging river.
"Ah, Lilith," Lucifer said with a sigh. "She really knows when to pack it in."
She sat in the mud on the riverbank and began to play. Her hands flew over the long-necked instrument, producing sad, sonorous music.
"A blues for drowning," Lucifer said with a hint of admiration.
"No--it's a blues for the moments before drowning," Cam said. "Big difference."
Then the river was over its banks, over Lilith and her sitar, over the houses, over the heads of all the fleeing people, over Cam and Lucifer.
Seconds later, Cam and Lucifer stood on a mountain bluff. Wisps of fog curled like fingers around the pine trees.
"This is one of my favorites," Lucifer said.
Mournf
ul banjo music sounded behind them. They turned and saw seven rail-thin children sitting on the porch of a sagging log cabin. They were barefoot, and their stomachs were bloated. A girl with strawberry-blond hair held the banjo in her lap, her fingers moving over the strings.
"I'm not going to stand here and watch Lilith play along to her starvation," Cam said.
"It's not so bad--it's just like going to sleep," Lucifer said.
The smallest boy now appeared to be doing just that. One of his sisters laid her head on his shoulder and followed suit. Then Lilith stopped playing and closed her eyes.
"That's enough," Cam said.
He thought about the Lilith he'd just encountered at Rattlesnake Creek. All this past suffering, the imprint of all these deaths, was in her somewhere, but she had no conscious memory of it. Just like Luce.
No, he realized, Lilith was nothing like Luce. They were as far from each other as east from west. Luce had been an archangel, living a cursed mortal life. Lilith was a mortal cursed by immortal influences, blown across the universe by eternal winds she could not perceive. But she felt those winds nonetheless. They were there in the way she sang with her eyes closed and strummed her cracked guitar.
She was doomed. Unless...
"Send me back in," Cam said to the devil. They were back in Hell's food court, snow globes atop the tables everywhere Cam looked, each one full of Lilith's pain.
"You liked Crossroads that much?" Lucifer asked. "I'm touched."
He looked deep into the devil's eyes and shuddered at the wildness he found there. All this time, Lilith had been under Lucifer's spell. Why? "What would it take to make you release her?" Cam asked Lucifer. "I'll do anything."
"Anything? I like the sound of that." Lucifer slid his hands into his back pockets, tilted his head, and stared at Cam, considering. "Lilith's current Hell is set to expire in fifteen days. I'd enjoy watching you make her even more miserable for those two weeks." He paused. "We could make it interesting."
"You have a bad habit of making things interesting," Cam said.
"A wager," Lucifer proposed. "If, in the fifteen days remaining, you can cleanse Lilith's dark heart of her hatred for you and convince her to fall in love with you again--truly fall in love--I'll close up shop, at least where she's concerned. No more bespoke Hells for her."
Cam narrowed his eyes. "It's too easy. What's the catch?"
"Easy?" Lucifer repeated, cackling. "Didn't you notice the gigantic chip on her shoulder? That's all you. She hates you, pal." He blinked. "And she doesn't even know why."
"She hates that miserable world," Cam said. "Anyone would. That doesn't mean she hates me. She doesn't even remember who I am."
Lucifer shook his head. "The hatred for her miserable world is a front for the older, blacker hatred for you." He poked Cam in the chest. "When a soul is hurt as deeply as Lilith, the pain is permanent. Even if she no longer recognizes your face, she recognizes your soul. The core of who you are." Lucifer spat on the floor. "And she loathes you."
Cam winced. It couldn't be true. But then he remembered how cold she'd been to him. "I'll fix her."
"Sure you will," Lucifer said, nodding. "Give it a try."
"And after I win her back," Cam asked, "then what?"
Lucifer smiled patronizingly. "You'll be free to live out the rest of her mortal days with her. Happily ever after. Is that what you want to hear?" He snapped his fingers as if he'd just remembered something. "You asked about the catch."
Cam waited. His wings burned with the need to fly to Lilith.
"I have indulged you too much for too long," Lucifer said, suddenly cold and serious. "When you fail, you must return to where you belong. Here, with me. No more gallivanting through the galaxies. No more white in your wings." Lucifer narrowed his blood-red eyes. "You will join me behind the Wall of Darkness, on my right-hand side. Eternally."
Cam eyed the devil evenly. Thanks to Luce and Daniel, Cam had an opportunity--he could rewrite his fate. How could he give that up again so easily?
Then he thought of Lilith. Of the despair she'd wallowed in for millennia.
No. He couldn't entertain what it would mean to lose. He would focus on winning her love and easing her pain. If there was any hope of saving her, it was worth everything to try.
"Agreed," Cam said, and held out his hand.
Lucifer swiped it away. "Save that crap for Daniel. I don't need a handshake to hold you to your word. You'll see."
"Fine," Cam said. "How do I get back to her?"
"Take the door to the left of the hot-dog-on-a-stick stand." Lucifer pointed at the row of vendors, which were now far in the distance. "Once you set foot in Crossroads, the countdown begins."
Cam was already moving toward the door, toward Lilith. But as he passed out of Hell's food court, Lucifer's voice seemed to follow him.
"Just fifteen days, old boy. Tick-tock!"
Fifteen Days
Lilith could not be late to school again today.
Bailing on the bio test yesterday had already earned her detention after last period--her mother had silently handed her the detention slip when Lilith got home. So this morning, she made it a point to get to homeroom before Mrs. Richards had even finished adding creamer to the coffee in her biodegradable cup.
She was two pages into her poetry homework before the bell rang, and so pleased with her small accomplishment that she didn't even flinch when a familiar shadow darkened her desk.
"Brought you a present," Chloe said.
Lilith looked up. The senior reached into her zebra-striped purse and plucked out something white, then slapped it on Lilith's desk. It was one of those adult diapers, the kind meant for really ancient, incontinent people.
"In case you crap your pants again," Chloe said. "Try it on."
Lilith's cheeks warmed, and she pushed the diaper off her desk, pretending she didn't care that it was on the floor now, that other kids had to step over it to get to their desks. She glanced up to see whether Mrs. Richards had noticed, but to her dismay, Chloe was now having a tete-a-tete with their smiling homeroom teacher.
"I can recycle my shampoo bottles and my conditioner bottles, too?" Chloe was saying. "I never knew! Now, may I please have a hall pass? I'm supposed to meet with Principal Tarkenton."
Lilith watched with envy as Mrs. Richards dashed out a pass to Chloe, who took it and skipped out of the room. Lilith sighed. Teachers doled out hall passes to Chloe like they doled out detentions to Lilith.
Then the bell rang, and the intercom crackled to life.
"Good morning, Bulls," Tarkenton said. "As you know, today is the day we reveal the much-anticipated theme of this year's prom."
The kids around Lilith all hooted and clapped. She felt alone among them once again. It wasn't that she thought she was smarter or had better taste than these kids who cared so much about a high school dance. Something deeper and more important divided her from everyone she'd ever met. She didn't know what it was, but it made her feel like an alien most of the time.
"You voted, we tallied," the principal's voice continued, "and this year's prom theme is...Battle of the Bands!"
Lilith scowled at the intercom. Battle of the Bands?
She hadn't filled out the ballot for this year's prom, but she found it hard to believe that her classmates would have selected a theme that was actually almost interesting. Then she remembered that Chloe King was in a band, and that the girl had somehow brainwashed the student body into thinking that whatever she did was cool. Last spring, she'd made playing bingo an actual thing the in-crowd did every Thursday night. Lilith, of course, had never gone to Bingo Babes, as it was called, but come on--who between the ages of eight and eighty actually enjoyed the game of bingo?
The prom theme could have been worse. But still, Lilith was sure Tarkenton and his high school henchmen would figure out a way to make sure it sucked.
"And now a message from your prom chair, Chloe King," Tarkenton said.
A scuffling noise
came from the intercom as the principal passed the microphone.
"Hey, Bulls," Chloe said in a voice that managed to be both peppy and sultry at the same time. "Buy your prom tickets and get ready to dance the night away to amazing music played by your amazing friends. That's right--prom is going to be part Coachella, part reality TV show, with a panel of snarky judges and everything. It's all sponsored by King Media--thanks, Daddy! So save the date: Wednesday, April thirtieth--just fifteen days away! I've already signed up my band to do battle, so what are you waiting for?"
The intercom clicked off. Lilith had never been to one of Chloe's shows, but she liked to think the girl had about as much musical talent as a lobster.
Lilith thought back to the boy she'd met the day before at Rattlesnake Creek. Out of nowhere he'd suggested she form a band. She'd tried to put the encounter out of her mind, but with Chloe going on about how to sign up to play at prom, Lilith was surprised to feel regret about the total nonexistence of her band.
Then the homeroom door swung open--and in walked the boy from Rattlesnake Creek. He sauntered down the row next to hers and took Chloe King's seat.
Heat coursed through Lilith's body as she studied his motorcycle jacket and the vintage Kinks T-shirt that fit tightly across his chest. She wondered where they sold clothes like that in Crossroads. No store she knew. She'd never met anyone who dressed like him.
He brushed his dark hair from his eyes and gazed at her.
Lilith liked the way Cam looked, but she did not like the way he looked at her. There was a sparkle in his eyes that made her uneasy. Like he knew all of her secrets. He probably looked at all the girls that way, and some of them probably loved it. Lilith didn't--at all--but she forced herself to hold his gaze. She didn't want him to think he made her nervous.
"May I help you?" Mrs. Richards asked.
"I'm new here," Cam said, still staring at Lilith. "What's the drill?"
When he flashed his Trumbull student ID, Lilith was so stunned she fell into a coughing fit. She struggled for control, mortified.
"Cameron Briel." Mrs. Richards read from the ID card, then scrutinized Cam from head to toe. "The drill is you sit over there and be quiet." She pointed at the desk farthest from Lilith, who was still coughing.
"Lilith," Mrs. Richards said, "do you know the statistics on the rise of asthma due to increased carbon emissions in the past decade? When you finish coughing, I want you to get out a sheet of paper and write a letter to your congresswoman demanding reform."