When dawn beckoned, Cam shot down to Trumbull’s campus. Wings unfurled, he alit on a dead carob tree and caught the sun rising over a hulking new structure in the center of the football field. He shook the falling ash from his hair and perched at the end of a long, sturdy branch to get a better view.
The half-constructed amphitheater had been modeled after the Roman Colosseum. It was only a couple of stories tall, but it had the same architectural features: three tiers of stylized arches encircling a space as big as the cafeteria. Cam understood instantly what Lucifer had in mind.
“Like it?” Lucifer asked, appearing as Luc on the branch behind Cam. He wore sunglasses to battle the glare, and not being able to see the devil’s eyes made Cam nervous.
“This is for prom?” Cam asked.
“King Media thought the students deserved a grander venue for their gladiatorial battle,” Lucifer said. “It’s all made of ash, but it looks impressive, right? No mortal architect could have done this. It’s a shame. That Gehry guy showed promise.”
“Do you want an award?” Cam asked.
“I wouldn’t turn one down,” Lucifer said. “And it wouldn’t kill you to acknowledge my other work from time to time.” The devil pulled a small square mirror from his jeans’ pocket and flashed it before Cam.
Cam pushed the mirror away. He didn’t have to look at his reflection to know what he would find. By now he could feel the effects of whatever curse the devil had cast upon his body. He was haggard, puffy, pathetic to look at. Girls at Trumbull who’d stopped mid-conversation just to watch him walk down the hall on his first day here now only noticed Cam when he was standing in their way. He wasn’t used to this. His good looks had always been a part of the package, just like with all the angels. Not anymore.
It nagged at him, though he tried not to let it. He would have to meet this challenge and prove, once and for all, that he was more than just a beautiful face.
“Pretty boy is becoming an ugly boy.” Lucifer bellowed a laugh layered with darkness. “I’ve often wondered whether you had any depth. Without those muscles, what will the ladies see in you?”
Cam touched the place where he was accustomed to finding his taut, firm abdomen. It had gone soft and flabby. He knew his hair was thinning, too, his face filling out, his cheeks growing jowly. He’d never thought of himself as particularly shallow; his confidence had always come from somewhere deep within. But would he be able to attract Lilith now that he looked like this?
“Lilith didn’t fall in love with me in Canaan because of the way I looked,” Cam told the devil. “You can make me as hideous as you want. It won’t stop her from falling for me again.” He was deeply worried that this wasn’t true, but he’d never give Lucifer the satisfaction of knowing he was throwing Cam off his game.
“Sure about that?” The devil’s angry laugh shot a chill up Cam’s spine. “You’ve got eight days to open her heart, and none of your old tender glances will change her mind now. But if this gentle makeover isn’t enough of an obstacle, you’ll be pleased to know this isn’t the only trick I’ve got up my sleeve.”
“Of course not,” Cam muttered. “That would be too easy.”
“Exactly.” Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, there she is.”
The devil pointed through the trees, to where Lilith was stepping off her school bus, with a girl Cam didn’t know.
Lilith was dressed all in black except for a colorful scarf around her neck. Her long hair was pulled back in a braid today instead of hiding her face. She looked happier than she had the first time Cam saw her in Crossroads. There was even a bounce in her step as she carried her guitar.
Cam smiled at first, but then a dark thought entered his mind. What if she became so happy here she lost her sense of rebellion, her desire to flee Crossroads?
What if she started to actually like it here?
He leaped from the tree, drawing his wings back in and untucking his T-shirt to hide his gut. He could feel the students’ eyes on him as he jogged across the parking lot.
“Lilith—”
But before Lilith heard him, a red Escalade lurched forward and Chloe King climbed out from the backseat, an expensive-looking patent-leather backpack slung over her shoulder. Her bandmates slid out behind her, each sporting a similar bag and a similar expression.
“Hey, Lilith,” Chloe said.
As Cam closed in on them, he got a whiff of Chloe’s perfume, which smelled like birthday cake and was accentuated by the air, which smelled like lit candles.
“Chloe,” Lilith said cautiously.
“I was wondering if you’d be my guitar tech at prom,” Chloe said. “As prom queen, I—”
“Um, Chloe…” June cleared her throat. “You haven’t been named prom queen yet.”