by Aidan Wayne
Carla didn’t really understand what the fuss was about. “I didn’t think she was that bad. What was the matter?” She looked back toward the doors. “And why don’t we matchmake for succubi? I’ve never heard of that rule before. Well,” she added, bouncing a little on her toes, “I’ve never met a succubus before either, so.”
Tristan threw a caramel cluster into his mouth, chewing frantically. “They just think we’re free meal tickets,” he managed around the cluster. “It’s a completely underhanded mind-set, and they’re never looking for real love. It’s been against company policy since—since I don’t even know when. I’ve had to deal with a few in my time, and they’re all the same.” He huffed, looking downright angry. “All swishy tails and—and innuendo, and of course there’s nothing wrong with that!” he added hastily. “They can’t help that they feed off, well, you know.” This time he pulled out a milk drop, which had to be sucked, so he was at least calming down. “But if some poor fool falls in love with one of them, they can be drained until they die.”
Carla gasped. “If you fall in love with one, you die? That’s horrible!”
Tristan shook his head. “No, just humans. A fae will get very weak, and might even lose some of their more powerful abilities, but we have too much energy to outright die from that kind of depletion unless the incubus or succubus is starving.”
Carla’s bottom lip trembled, and she cast a quick glance toward the glass doors. “So a succubus might never be able to be in love with someone? Or they can’t have someone love them?” If it was that or your match died . . . “That’s—that’s the worst thing I can imagine,” she whispered.
Tristan shook his head again, and patted her on the shoulder. “Oh, they could,” he said, trying to sound comforting. “Theoretically. If the succubus or incubus returns the love, something about the magical chemical properties stops the more damaging part of the drain. Supposedly it even creates a truer bond, on top of making the lust portion a richer food source.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But it’s rare. It’s against their nature to want to settle down. A real love match? Please. That woman just wanted us to do the leg work for a good, steady food source for as long as it lasted.” He glowered, the expression looking entirely out of character on his normally cheerful face. “It’s disgusting! And not something anyone in this agency will ever be tricked into being a part of.” He let out a long breath, rummaging in his desk again. “Peppermint?”
Carla flew slowly home, trying to put the sparkle back into her flutter. It was hard to keep from being disheartened. The morning’s events weighed her down. And while she was upset she wasn’t fit to be a Sweetheart yet, she also kept thinking about the succubus, and what Tristan had said about them not being able to find love.
That must be one of the most horrible things in the world.
Well, no, not for everyone. Carla remembered Pairing Fundamentals 110 perfectly—she ought to, after having to retake it again (for the third time) last quarter, after spending two weeks getting her target to crush on an aromantic person. There were always going to be people, humans and fae alike, who didn’t feel love and got along quite well without it. Which was fine!
But being able to feel love, wanting to find True Love, and not being allowed to? And worse, having the whole of what you are work against you while you tried? That certainly felt like one of the most horrible things in the world to Carla.
She pinched her own cheeks, trying to get her mind off all of it. She should get a treat! Something fun, chocolate, and sugar filled to focus on for a little while. And better to stay out right now than go back to her empty apartment where all she would do is wallow.
Decision made, Carla changed course and after a few more minutes of flying landed on the roof of Jitterbug, her favorite coffee shop. She wasn’t much for coffee, but they made excellent pastries, and their frozen hot chocolate was the best this side of the faerie circle.
She ordered herself said frozen chocolate and a blueberry scone to boot, and then began to look for someplace to sit, determined to people-watch and dream until she felt less awful. She was a cupid! She could make her own destiny! And her destiny was currently filled with delicious goodies and not thinking about work at all!
Resolve firmed, Carla turned . . . and immediately locked eyes with Leeta, the succubus, who was sitting alone and delicately sipping from a teensy tiny cup. After a moment, she flicked her eyes toward the empty seat next to her and inclined her head.
Carla hesitated, squared her shoulders, and made her way over.
Besides nodding again in acknowledgment, Leeta didn’t seem inclined to make conversation. She took her time taking teeny sips from her teeny cup while Carla tucked into her own treats.
While she ate, Carla couldn’t help but look at Leeta. Not just because the succubus was beautiful—that was certainly true, make no mistake—but because she couldn’t help wondering. Tristan had turned her away without even an appointment. She would never see Angel, never get a real consultation with Aphrodite Agency. Never have a chance of a love match. And Carla got the feeling that without a cupid, succubi didn’t get chances for True Love. Of course they usually didn’t want them, they weren’t made for that, but—
Leeta had tried to make the effort. Surely something was there. It couldn’t all have just been a ruse, right? If she wanted a meal so badly, Carla didn’t doubt that there were at least three people in the Jitterbug alone who would happily offer one up right now.
“Yes?” Leeta asked suddenly, and Carla jumped in her seat.
“Yes?” she repeated. “Yes what?” Was Carla allowed to even talk to her, after this morning?
Leeta arched one elegant eyebrow. “You’ve been staring. Not that I’m unused to stares, but something tells me your reasons are different from most.”
“Oh!” Carla said. Something about Leeta made her tongue-tied. “Oh,” she said again. “I guess . . . I guess I was just wondering. About today. Not that it’s any of my business! But I was curious since, um, I’m a cupid, and love matches are what I do, and you seemed to want one, but Tristan—”
“Clearly judged me based on his own personal bias,” Leeta interrupted smoothly. “Which is quite annoying. Not all succubi and incubi are the same.”
“Of course not!” Well, Carla didn’t actually know that for sure, but no member of every species was exactly alike. “Of course not,” she said again, certain.
Leeta regarded her with something akin to amusement. “You are right in that it’s not any of your business, but I don’t suppose it could hurt to tell you. Maybe you’ll argue in my favor.” At Carla’s torn look, she waved a hand. “Not that I expect it. Most succubi don’t love. We aren’t built for it. However I’ve been growing . . . bored.”
“Bored?”
“Yes. Not with the act itself—that is still pleasurable enough—but in the lack of continuity. I’ve been longing to come home to one person in my bed every night, someone to speak to and spend time with even when we are not having sex.”
Carla sighed happily. That sounded so nice!
Leeta shot her another look, but continued on. “I mentioned this desire to one of my old coworkers and was told, in no fine humor, I might add, that it sounded like I was pining for a love match.”
“Oh it does,” Carla said. “How wonderful.”
Leeta raised an eyebrow. “You say that. However, I’m unable to be matched, remember? I was turned away. And given what I am, I doubt my own ability to find love without the help of a cupid. Who would ever approach me with love in mind?”
Carla ate another bite of her scone. Leeta was frowning, her mouth a fine pout, her brows creasing. She looked truly upset, and even upset that she felt this upset. As though she hadn’t realized how much a love match meant to her until she was told she couldn’t have one.
Absolutely not, thought Carla. She was a cupid, goodness save it all! If someone really wanted a love match, it was her very duty to help if she could.
A
nd if she had a passing thought about what it would do for her reputation if she matched a succubus, even under the table, well. That was neither here nor there. But then maybe Angel would see that Carla could be a Sweetheart. She didn’t need Matchmaking at all.
“I have a suggestion,” she said, as Leeta finished her drink.
“Oh?”
“Well, I’m a cupid,” said Carla. “And you want a love match.”
“Go on.”
“How would you like me to take on your case?” asked Carla in a rush. “Purely freelance, not through the agency.”
Leeta rested her chin on one elegant hand. “I don’t suppose you want me to ask whether or not you’re really allowed to offer me that?”
Carla managed a smile. “Um. Not really, no.”
Leeta smirked back. “Then I suppose it’s a good thing I don’t care.” She held out her hand. “I look forward to doing business with you. Ms. . . .?”
“Carla,” she said, taking the hand.
“I’m looking forward to this, Carla.”
Carla tried to look confident. “Me too.”
Leeta smiled.
“All right,” Carla said, sitting down across from Leeta with her tablet and a stack of files. After realizing that she wouldn’t be able to smuggle the succubus into the agency, she’d smuggled the necessary paperwork out instead.
Leeta had made an interesting facial expression when she’d entered Carla’s apartment. Carla got the impression that she had been amused by the decor.
“What’s all this?” Leeta asked, over her cup of tea. Spicy chai. Which Carla only had because she subscribed to a surprise mail-order cute box, and the tea had been included with a steeper in the shape of a bumblebee.
“Paperwork,” Carla said. “Well, mostly this is for me. The tablet is for the questionnaire. I’m going to ask you some questions about yourself, start learning who you are and what you like and what might be good for you. I don’t have the agency database on here, but I can sync it up at work.” Thankfully Leeta didn’t ask just how not allowed that was, because . . . well, because it was pretty against the rules.
“And the files?” Leeta asked instead.
“Oh, those are old case write-ups,” Carla said. “Tricky beings who wanted to get matched. I got them for research on where I might look for you. I’m assuming you are looking outside of your species?”
“More than likely,” Leeta said. “I’m compatible with a variety of species, however, so I hope it won’t be a problem.”
“It shouldn’t be,” Carla assured her. She marked that down. “But I needed to ask to be sure. I have a bunch of questions to help better see who might be a good match for you!” Carla didn’t really do a lot of intake anymore, being a sharpshooter in Puppy Love, but she’d taken enough Chemistry classes to know exactly what to ask.
Leeta looked at her in cool surprise. “I thought all you had to do was point and shoot and love . . . happened.”
Carla felt herself turn crimson. “It’s so much more than just pointing and shooting!” She ought to know; if that was all a cupid needed, then Carla would be the best. “It’s . . .” She puffed out her cheeks, thinking how to explain. “Everyone has the ability to love. Not everyone loves romantically, and nobody thinks romantically. Those feelings are . . . hard to reach. They’re purely emotional, without any logic at all, and people can have problems with pure emotion. They don’t know how to . . . how to think with it. Does that make sense?”
“Not really,” Leeta said dryly. “Lust isn’t all that logical either, but most people, in my experience, have no issues with feeling it.”
“Yes, but—” Carla floundered a little before alighting on, “Encounters that are just based on lust aren’t made to last, emotionally! . . . I mean, they’re not, are they?”
“I suppose not,” Leeta allowed.
“But love.” Carla sighed happily. “Love is supposed to mean something. From teenagers experiencing Puppy Love to a True Love match that will last forever, all love has an emotional connection. One that most people can’t understand, or see. But cupids can! Our arrows contain bits of our magic that we use to ignite the Sparks of love, and those allow the person to realize potential feelings.”
“The . . . Spark.”
“The potential,” Carla clarified. “‘Spark’ is, um, a technical term. When a person is ready for some kind of love, they ping our radar. There’s a chance that they’re ready for a love match. Our arrows use cupid magic to connect their emotional responders to their logic centers so that they begin to realize their feelings! You see?”
Leeta blinked at her and then let out a quiet breath. “That is all very interesting and obviously you know what you’re talking about. So why the questions? If there is all this magic involved about feelings I apparently don’t realize I’m capable of?”
“I’m sorry I’m making a mess of explaining,” Carla mumbled, staring down at her hands. “I’ve never had to before, to someone who doesn’t already have a basic understanding of how everything works. It’s like trying to explain the color green.”
“The smell of freshly cut grass.”
“Pardon?”
Leeta shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s how I would explain green.”
“O-oh. Um.” Carla took a deep breath and let it out again. Right. She could do this. Leeta was her client and was trusting her to match her up. The least Carla could do was explain how it worked. “Love is . . . complicated. And there are a lot of different facets to it.”
“I’m getting that.”
“Yes, well, um . . . Chemistry is one of the most important things to a cupid, aside from their targeting skills.” She took a breath. “Because there are so many options, not all matches are going to be the best matches. Or even good ones. Some people even have different Spark intensities, which is why sometimes one person will love another very strongly, but that level of strength isn’t returned. All Cupids do is work to ignite the Sparks they see, doing their best with the options they have for each person at the time. Everything that comes after is up to the individuals. But igniting a Spark is what causes a person’s emotional responders to react to love potential. That’s why every match has the potential to be a True Love match, but not every match ends as a True Love match.”
Leeta didn’t look very impressed. Carla swallowed again. “It’s, um, it’s not an exact science. It can’t be. But things like asking questions or observing our targets can really help us understand them. The best cupids have an innate understanding of chemistry, but it’s not a super common talent. That’s what Matchmakers are for. The rest of us learn the old-fashioned way. It . . . it works out pretty well.”
“I see. Well. I can’t exactly be picky, can I?”
That did not sound like a vote of confidence.
“I could . . . I could try to talk to someone else in the agency,” Carla offered quietly. “I’m a really good shot even if my, um, my chemistry skills could use some work. I’m sure there’s a Matchmaker or two who wouldn’t mind doing me a favor and helping you.” Even if it did mean that Carla would lose the credit of matching a succubus, Leeta’s True Love dream was more important!
But Leeta was shaking her head. “You seem sincere,” she said. “And even if I don’t quite understand how this works, you actually want to help me. I trust you with my feelings.”
“Oh!” Carla blushed. “Thank you.”
“I do have one more question, though.”
“Of course!”
“Why do you use arrows? It seems very . . . archaic.”
Carla laughed. An easy question! “It doesn’t have to be an arrow. But they’re quiet and efficient, and, uh, about thirty years ago there was a movement to shift to bullets, but it got a lot of bad press and a bunch of cupids went on strike over the very idea. Mostly it’s because they’re traditional. And because the pointed tip really results in the best trajectory toward focusing power into a Spark. There’s, um, the
re’s been papers written on it, if you want me to get some for you.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Well,” Carla said. “If you’ve asked all the questions you’ve wanted to, could I start asking mine?”
And Leeta smiled. Or quirked her lips a little bit. Still a smile! “Ask away.”
“All right,” she said brightly. “First, tell me a about yourself. Give me a short bio, one that would interest your potential match.”
Leeta shrugged and tapped a finger on her cheek, the movement sinuous. “Let’s see,” she said. “I’m very blunt. It’s in my nature. I’m choosy because I am able to be. But that bluntness is just my way of honesty, as I don’t believe in pretty flattery or lies.” Carla raced to write this all down. “I have a good heart. Not much excites me anymore, but when I do find something of interest, I am very . . . enthusiastic about it, in my own way.”
“That’s good!” Carla said. “What things do you get excited over?”
Leeta raised an eyebrow. “Besides the obvious?” She smirked when Carla choked. “Mm. I like taking walks. Especially outdoors, surrounded by nature. I don’t hike, but I do stroll, and I quite enjoy it.”
“Oh, me too!” Carla said, excited to find something in common with Leeta. “I like to fly, but there’s something about the tree breeze that I love.”
Leeta nodded. “And I admit to a weakness for a good bit of pastry.” The smirk grew into what almost could be called a smile. “You have a fondness for them yourself, I noticed.”
Carla blushed, cheeks warming. “I’m a cupid,” she said. “I’m supposed to like sweets.”
“Being supposed to do something doesn’t make it true,” Leeta said, before gesturing at herself. “Exhibit A.”
“Of course! I just meant— I do like sweets,” Carla mumbled. And they helped keep her happy round figure.
“As do I, as I mentioned,” Leeta said. “Should you be writing that down?”
“Oh! Yes, right, of course. Anything else? Something personal. That you’d want your true love to know and appreciate.”