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.”