Lilith stared at the ceiling and tried not to show how much it hurt that her mother never even considered standing up for her.
“And with Chloe’s father being so influential in the town,” her mom continued, “I hope he won’t pass judgment on the rest of my family. My Bruce doesn’t need any more trouble, poor boy.”
If Bruce were there, he would have rolled his eyes. He’d been treated like a ghost his whole life by everyone except Lilith, and he hated it.
“Detention doesn’t seem to be a deterrent to her,” Tarkenton went on. “But there is another option: a school for wayward students.” He slid a brochure across his desk. Lilith read the gothic-printed words Sword & Cross Reform School.
“But what about prom?” Lilith asked. She had only just formed a band and hadn’t even signed it up for prom yet—but she wanted to. More than she’d wanted anything in a long time. Maybe ever. She wished she had a mother who would understand that, a mother she could confide in about her fears and dreams. Instead she had Janet, who was still convinced Lilith had taken her stupid yellow cardigan.
“Since when are you going to prom?” her mom asked. “Did a boy ask you? Is it that boy I saw you talking to outside yesterday? The one who didn’t even ring the bell to introduce himself?”
“Mom, please.” Lilith groaned. “It’s not about a boy. It’s about the Battle of the Bands. I want to play.”
Tarkenton glanced at the enrollment sheet for the battle on the corner of his desk. “Don’t see you on here, Lilith.”
She grabbed the sheet and quickly wrote her new band’s name. Now it was real. She stared at it and swallowed.
“Revenge?” Tarkenton snorted. “That sounds antiauthority.”
“I’m not—that’s not what our band is about,” Lilith said. “Please, give me one more chance.”
All she wanted was the opportunity to play her music, to see the Four Horsemen, to stand on a stage and sing and, for a few minutes, forget her horrible life. Performing wasn’t something she had even known she wanted before she’d bonded with Jean Rah and Luis, but now it was all she could think about.
After that, Tarkenton and her mom could do whatever they wanted with her.
As they discussed Lilith’s future and potential disciplinary action, Lilith looked through Tarkenton’s window at the parking lot, where Luc was walking toward a red Corvette parked close to the building. What was he doing here? He slid behind the wheel and revved the engine loudly.
“What is that?” Tarkenton said, and spun toward the sound.
“It’s very loud,” her mom said, squinting. “Is that…a Corvette?”
Lilith eyed Luc with curiosity. Could he see her through the window?
“Who is that boy?” her mom asked. “He looks too old to be in high school. Do you know him, Lilith?”
Lilith glanced at her mother, wondering how to answer that question. When she looked back at the parking lot, Luc was gone, as though he’d never been there to begin with.
“No,” Lilith said, turning her attention back to the sign-up sheet on Tarkenton’s desk. “Now can I please be in the battle?”
She watched as her mother and the principal exchanged glances. Then Tarkenton leaned back in his chair and said, “One more chance. But even the smallest screwup and you’re done,” he continued. “You hear me?”
Lilith nodded. “Thank you.”
Her heart was pounding. She was officially a musician.
Approximately 1000 BCE
Cam had been watching the moon for hours, willing it to speed its path across the desert sky. Almost a day had passed since he’d said goodbye to Lilith at the carob tree. It had all seemed so charming when she was making the plans, inviting Cam to meet her again at the river in the moonlight, but to wait all these hours to see her was a new kind of torture.
It wasn’t like Cam to let a mortal girl slow him down.
“Pathetic,” he muttered, unfurling his white wings and feeling a sense of freedom as they stretched toward the sky.
Who was he, Daniel Grigori?
He despised feeling bound to anyone or anything. But he couldn’t seem to help himself when it came to Lilith. She made him want to stay.
Cam took to the sky, flying toward Lilith’s village. He landed swiftly and folded his wings out of sight, ducking into a wine tent near the oasis, the last place he might find her. He was considering not keeping their date. He took a seat in a darkened corner, struck up a conversation with two local men, and shared the contents of their earthenware flagon.
By the time Cam and his new friends had drained the flagon, the moon hung low in the sky. He had expected to feel relieved—now there was nothing he could do. Lilith might forgive him, but she would never trust or fall in love with him now.
That was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it?