“The stuff of love songs,” Cam said.
When he glanced at Lilith, her eyes were damp; Cam understood how rare praise from her mother must have been.
“Thank you,” Lilith said, embracing her mom, then her brother. “We won’t be out too late.”
“Don’t you want to come see Lilith perform?” Cam asked Lilith’s mom.
“I’m sure we’d only embarrass her,” her mother said.
“No,” Lilith said. “Please come.” She glanced at Cam. “I don’t know, do you think they let non-students into prom?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Arriane chimed in, pulling at the neck of her black V-neck shirt. “I know a guy who knows a guy who can get us all front-row seats.”
“That’s very generous,” Lilith’s mom said. “I’ll go get dressed. You too, Bruce.”
When her family had disappeared into their rooms, Cam turned to Lilith. “Shall we?”
“Wait,” she said. “I forgot my guitar.”
“You might need that,” Cam said. “I’ll wait outside.”
He stepped onto the porch, Arriane following behind him. She patted his cheek. “I’m proud of you, Cam. And inspired by you. Ain’t that right, Ro?”
“Right on.” Roland called from the open window of the limousine. He was wearing a sharp-looking tuxedo with a navy bow tie.
“Thank you, guys,” Cam said.
“Regardless of what happens tonight,” Arriane added.
“You still have no faith that I can win?” Cam asked.
Arriane scampered to catch up with him. “It’s just, on the off chance that you don’t—”
“What she means is,” Roland said, getting out of the car and coming up behind Cam, “we’d miss you, man.” He leaned against Lilith’s front porch’s rusty railing and gazed up at the sky. “Won’t you miss her?”
“Because if you lose,” Arriane said, “she’ll be back to snow-globe Purgatory, and you…” Arriane shuddered. “I don’t even want to think about what Lucifer will have you doing.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Cam said. “Because I’m not going to lose.”
Arriane sank onto the hood of the limo, and Roland climbed back into the driver’s seat. The front door opened, and Lilith stepped out, bathed in moonlight, holding her guitar.
“Can you handle one more accessory?” Cam asked, pulling a small white box from his pocket.
Lilith opened it and smiled when she saw the blue and yellow irises pinned to the small elastic band.
Gently, Cam slipped the flower onto Lilith’s wrist. Their fingers intertwined.
“No one’s ever given me a corsage,” Arriane said longingly.
Then something landed at her feet with a thump. Arriane jumped back in alarm, then looked down and saw a small white box identical to the one Cam had given Lilith. She smiled.
“You’re welcome,” Roland called from the driver’s seat. “Now get in, kids; you’re wasting valuable prom time.”
At the edge of Trumbull’s campus, Cam helped Lilith climb out of the limo. Small groups of done-up kids hung out on the hoods of cars in the parking lot, dressed in their finest dresses and suits, but most of the action seemed to be coming from the football field, where Luc had constructed the replica Colosseum.
Like its Roman model, it was open to the elements, with three tiers of tall arches around the exterior. As Cam studied it, he realized there was something slapdash about the structure. Instead of being made of limestone, it was formed entirely of packed ash from the fires of Lilith’s Hell, like cheap concrete. It drove home to Cam how temporary this was—the evening; the school; the small, sad world of Crossroads.
Lilith gazed at the venue before them, and Cam knew she saw none of the things that worried Cam. To Lilith, it was just another ugly building in her ugly town.
Bass thumped through the walls. “It’s no Rattlesnake Creek,” Lilith said, “but I guess we’ll make do.”
“We can do better than that,” Cam said. “We can rock this place so hard its walls come tumbling down. It’ll be the fall of Rome all over again.”
“My, you’re ambitious,” Lilith teased, taking his arm.
“Thanks for the lift, Roland.” Cam turned to the demon, who closed the limo door behind him.
“Break a leg, brother,” Roland called to his friend.
Cam and Lilith entered the faux Colosseum through a long arch made of gold and silver balloons. On the other side they found the party in full swing. Students clustered around candlelit cocktail tables, laughing, flirting, snacking on cheese cubes, and sipping punch. Others danced to fast pop songs on a big parquet dance floor that was open to the stars.
Cam’s gaze was drawn to the back of the Colosseum, where a grand stage had been erected, rising twenty feet above the rest of prom. Red velvet curtains created a backstage area where the other bands could wait before they played. Off to one side was a small judges’ table over which hung a banner: TRUMBULL PREP WELCOMES THE FOUR HORSEMEN.