Cupid's Match

by Lauren Palphreyman

  Around ten minutes later we pile into Cupid’s kitchen. Selena and Crystal take Charlie into the living room while Cal makes a round of coffees. It’s completely dark outside now, yet Cupid lingers at the front of the house, cautiously scanning the grounds through the glass.

  I perch on a stool at the breakfast bar, nervously clutching the mug Cal hands me. It’s not until I take a sip of the dark, caffeinated liquid that I realize how tired I am. I look over at Cal as he leans against the counter somewhat awkwardly.

  “What’s going to happen to Charlie?” I ask. “They’re not going to hurt her, are they?”

  Cupid turns and the brothers exchange a glance.

  “It won’t come to that,” says Cal stiffly, though his eyes don’t look convinced.

  Cupid slides onto the stool beside me, the sultry lighting of his kitchen casting shadows on his lightly tanned skin. He smells like leather and aftershave.

  “Of course it won’t; we just need to know what she knows and make sure she doesn’t cause any trouble. That’s why we’ve brought Selena.” He looks at me. “She’s very powerful. She can get the truth out of people quickly, and she can calm them down.”

  “Can I see Charlie?” I ask.

  Cupid nods. “Just give Selena five minutes.”

  I put my coffee down and head into the hallway. I give my dad a quick call to let him know I’m okay. He answers from the Love Shack—apparently Eric has given him a trial shift tonight. I force a smile into my voice.

  “That’s great, Dad!”

  “Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. “I guess I better brush up on my dad-dancing skills. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  I tell him it’s fine then stuff my phone into my pocket. After a deep breath, I enter the living room.

  The floor is hardwood, and a maroon rug lays in front of the fireplace. Its roaring blaze is the only light in the room, seeing as the heavy velvet curtains are drawn. On either side of the mantelpiece, the walls hold built-in bookcases filled with an eclectic mix of volumes.

  My focus is drawn to the center of the room. Beside the dark mahogany coffee table, Charlie is tied to a wooden chair. Selena kneels beside her. Crystal watches while perching on the edge of a leather armchair that matches the two long couches around the hearth.

  “What is she doing here?” Charlie spits when she sees me. She twists her head viciously to glare at Crystal. “Aren’t you going to do something about this? You’re a cupid. You should know better.”

  “I’ve been a cupid a lot longer than you, and we don’t attack innocent humans,” Crystal says as Charlie fidgets against her restraints.

  “Cupids cannot be matched,” Charlie says, her lips thinning into a hard line.

  Crystal crosses the room to stand in front of me. “They won’t be.” Then she gives a false smile. “I’m going to freshen up.”

  As her footsteps click up the spiral staircase, Charlie shrieks after her. “DON’T LEAVE ME HERE! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE WITH HER!”

  How can Charlie hate me so much?

  Selena leans over her and I hear a soft tune start up. Then, as instantly as she started screaming, Charlie begins to snore. I feel my own eyelids drooping and I fall back into the couch behind me.

  “What’s going on?” I yawn. “Why is she asleep?”

  Selena smiles kindly. “Don’t worry,” she says. “Your friend is going to be all right. I sent her to sleep because she was getting agitated. It’s not safe for her to be awake around you at the moment.”

  “Is she always going to hate me now?” I ask sadly.

  Selena gives me a sympathetic look. “Attempting to pierce you with a Cupid’s Arrow, believe it or not, was an act of mercy. But now . . . I do believe she will try to kill you.”

  “Is there a way to stop her from feeling like this?”

  “The power from the arrow that transformed her is still surging through her veins. It’s like a venom, taking control. As her body starts to get used to it, she’ll become more open to reason. But she still won’t want you to be matched with Cupid.”

  I shake my head. “But why?”

  Selena walks over to the couch and sits down beside me. “She has been informed of the company policy.”

  “Right. That it’s against the Cupids Matchmaking Service rules for cupids to get matched. But seriously, what’s the big deal? So what if me and Cupid do get together? He doesn’t even work there anymore.”

  Selena frowns. “They haven’t told you?”

  “Told me what?”

  She sighs heavily.

  “Do you know who the founder of the Cupids Matchmaking Service is?”

  “I never really thought about it,” I say. “I guess I thought it was Cupid—before he got banished.”

  “No, honey, it’s not Cupid.”

  “Okay, so who is it?” I ask. “And why does it matter who owns the company?”

  Selena looks as though she is trying to figure out how to explain something. The flames cast dancing light over her flawless skin.

  “The company founder left many years ago, but the terms of the policy state that if the rules are broken, the founder will reseize control of the Matchmaking Service.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

  Selena smiles faintly. “You don’t know the founder, honey.” She leans forward until her face is just inches from mine. “Listen.”

  She hums a gentle tune and I feel myself leaning in even closer to her. I stare into her eyes—they are beautiful, dark and wild.

  “There’s something I need you to do,” she says.

  I nod, a wooziness coming over me. Anything she wants, I will do.

  “Downstairs, in Cupid’s combat room, there are some arrows. Do you know which ones I mean?”

  I nod, thinking of the arrows mounted on the wall.

  “I need you to go down there, get a black arrow, turn it on yourself, and—”

  Suddenly a hand seizes Selena’s neck and she is flung from the sofa onto the floor. She rolls over and leaps to her feet, her eyes glinting dangerously. I blink and it’s like a film has been lifted from my vision.

  I jump up from the couch. “Hey! You tried to hypnotize me!”

  But she’s no longer looking at me. Cupid stands by the door, his jaw tense, the muscles under his T-shirt bulging as he clenches his fists.

  “You betrayed me,” he says through gritted teeth. “Explain yourself.” He takes a step forward but Selena stands her ground. She raises her palms in front of her, in a placating gesture.

  “No need to get overexcited. I don’t want a fight. It’s just, I thought about what you told me in Elysium, and I think it’s better if Lila—”

  Cupid’s eyes narrow. “Get. Out.”

  She nods. “Like I said, I’m not looking for a fight. But you’re playing with fire.” As she walks past Cupid, she catches my eye. “I’m sorry, honey. It really was an act of mercy. You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Wait!” I call when she reaches the doorway.

  She turns and looks over her shoulder, arching a perfectly formed eyebrow.

  “What about Charlie? You spoke to her—what did she say?”

  Selena sighs, her eyes flitting to Cupid, who’s still wearing a face like thunder. “She doesn’t know much,” she says. “They told her about the company policy, obviously. They are looking for the Finis, which they think is close by. And there are more Arrows on the way.”

  She turns to look at Cal, who’s arrived in the doorway, looking confused.

  “Keep an eye on your brother,” she says.

  And then she’s gone.

  29

  “I really don’t see why you feel the need to come along,” says Cal.

  We’re back in the Aston Martin on the way to the Cupids Matchmaking Service to access the digital cop
y of The Records of the Finis. Cal clearly doesn’t want Cupid here, but after a bickering match between them following Selena’s exit, it seems he’s decided it might not be such a bad idea to keep an eye on his brother after all.

  While we’re gone, Crystal is keeping watch over Charlie, who woke up just before we left. Crystal said she’d thought the initial influence of the arrow had worn off enough that she could reason with Charlie, though I’m sure I overheard her snippily tell Cal she’d have to lie about Cupid and me to do it.

  “Getaway driver,” Cupid says brightly. His dark mood seems to have vanished. “Plus, I don’t trust the Matchmaking Service. Speaking of which, did you tell Crystal what we were going to the Matchmaking Service for, Brother?”

  He gives a stiff shake of the head. “I thought she might alert someone, since she doesn’t like you. I told her I was going to draw up the paperwork about you leaving town,” Cal says. “Which I am—once we’ve found out where this stupid arrow is.”

  I sink back into my thoughts as Cal mutters under his breath about what a pain in the ass his brother is.

  I don’t know what to think. Cupid doesn’t trust the Matchmaking Service. Selena doesn’t trust Cupid. Cal doesn’t trust Crystal. And I don’t trust anyone in this whole mythological mess . . .

  “So, what’s the plan again?” I ask from the backseat.

  “You’ll come in with me,” says Cal. “There won’t be too many cupids about at this time of night, so hopefully we won’t run into too many questions. We’ll say that you have an appointment with me in my office. I can access Carter’s login from my computer. We’ll print off the document, then get out of there.” He throws a warning look at Cupid. “And Cupid will stay in the car.”

  Cupid grins. “Me going in there is a one-way ticket to the Matchmaking Service dungeons. And I really don’t want to end up there . . . again.”

  Cal doesn’t return the smile. “Do you know what I’m risking for you? If they catch us with The Records of the Finis, they’ll know it’s to help you. I’ll be banished, or worse.”

  “It’s not me that you’re risking yourself for,” Cupid says quietly.

  I wonder what he means by that as we pull up to the side of the road, just down the street from the dating service.

  Cal stares stiffly ahead. “I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

  Cupid laughs. “You don’t have a good feeling about anything.”

  Cal ignores that and turns in his seat to face me. “Come on, let’s get this over with.” He fires a look at Cupid. “And you, you stay in the car. I’m serious.”

  That just prompts Cupid to make a big show of exiting. “You sure you want to do this?” he asks, sidling back to open my door while Cal huffs and slams his own.

  “Sure,” I say. “This mystical arrow is the only way I can get you to quit bugging me? I’m in. Let’s figure out where it is before they do.”

  Cal stalks around to our side, his face twisted with fury. “I told you to stay in the car.”

  Cupid holds his hands up in surrender as I climb out of the Aston Martin. “I’m just going to walk you to the door. If you get caught, you’ll need my help to get out.”

  He gives his most charming smile, which Cal counters with a humorless stare.

  “Fine,” he says. “Just stay out of sight.”

  Cal stalks off toward the Matchmaking Service. I watch him go, his hair pale in the moonlight. I think back to what he said about risking his place at the Matchmaking Service.

  “You really are infuriating, you know?” I say, looking up at Cupid. “Couldn’t you have just done what he asked?”

  A smirk tugs at his lips. “I know, I know, I’m sorry. I’ve condemned you to a half hour with Moody Cal, the even-worse version of Sullen Cal.” As I shake my head and start toward

  the building, he falls into step beside me. “I just need to make sure you’re both okay. None of this is how I expected it to be,” he says. “When I came to Forever Falls, I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought.”

  The sadness I glimpsed on the balcony has returned to his eyes. And now it seems there is regret mixed in there too.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Have you ever been sure that what you were doing was right, but then as everything starts to fall into place you begin to wonder whether it was worth it?”

  “I entered a hot dog–eating contest when I was fourteen,” I say. “Threw up for the entire evening afterward.”

  He gives a surprised laugh. “Well, you know exactly how I feel then.”

  I look at him seriously. I’m guessing his question was referring to coming here—to finding me. “Who is the founder of the Matchmaking Service? Selena said that person would take over if we were, you know . . .”

  “Matched?”

  I nod, feeling heat grace my cheeks despite myself. His eyes burn into mine for a few beats, but then he waves his hand dismissively and drags his gaze away.

  “Won’t happen,” he says. “The founder is gone. People need to stop worrying about it.”

  Suddenly Cal spins around ahead of us and takes several strides back.

  “Brother?” Cupid says, amused.

  “Cupids can’t be matched,” Cal says sharply. “I trust you know that. I’m taking part in this escapade because I want Lila safe, and because as much as I hate to admit it, I don’t want you killed. But know this: once you have the Finis, I want you out of Forever Falls. I want you gone.”

  A strange look passes over Cupid’s strong features as they stand face to face, tension crackling between them. Not for the first time, I wonder if it’s going to develop into a physical fight.

  Then Cupid takes a step backward and shrugs. “Let’s just get the Finis. We’ll deal with all that later.”

  “Yes, we will,” Cal replies.

  We carry on in silence until we reach the glass shop front of the Cupids Matchmaking Service. I can’t believe how much has changed since the last time I was here.

  Cupid lingers by the neighboring wedding boutique, eyeing the excessively frilly dress with a look of bored intrigue.

  Cal looks at me. “We get the copy of The Records of the Finis—then we get out. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  30

  The bell tinkles as we step inside. It looks the same as last time, except now Curtis is sitting beneath the long, golden arrow at the front desk. He’s casually flicking through a newspaper and doesn’t look up.

  “We’re not taking on—”

  “Any new clients at this time. Yes, I’d heard,” I say.

  On seeing Cal, Curtis hurriedly shoves his paper beneath some files by his monitor. Then his dark eyes narrow on me.

  “Cupid’s Match,” he says.

  “Yes,” says Cal, “and proving to be more difficult than I’d expected.”

  He says it a little too genuinely, in my opinion.

  “I’m showing her some of Cupid’s files in a hope to get her to take this more seriously.”

  “Be careful how much you divulge,” Curtis says. “She’s a human.”

  “I’m quite aware of that,” Cal says, voice clipped.

  Curtis shrugs and pushes a clipboard across the stone desk. “Well, she’ll have to sign in.”

  The sign-in sheet is a blank piece of paper with only two Italian names at the top. Today’s date is written beside them. Are the Arrows already here?

  “We don’t get many visitors,” Curtis offers in brusque explanation.

  “I can’t imagine why. You’re all so friendly.” I scribble down my name. “You had two visitors tonight, though.”

  I feel Cal tense beside me. “Visitors?”

  Curtis takes back the clipboard. “Couple of cupids from the Italian branch. In town on business. They wanted to use a computer so they could acc
ess the server. I let them use yours seeing as you haven’t been in the office all day.” There’s something a little accusatory in his tone.

  Cal’s features give nothing away as he strides through the door beside the reception desk. I hurry after.

  “The Arrows?”

  “They must have found Carter,” he says, jaw hard. “They could have easily learned he used to work in the archives, and Selena said he still visited Elysium. We should have taken him in. We need to hurry.”

  A few of the cupids rushing around the desks and stone columns look at us as we enter, but no one says anything to us as we head to Cal’s office. I sit down in his red armchair, casting my gaze around his little section of the Matchmaking Service as he switches on his computer. Other than the chipped mug beside the kettle, there’s nothing personal in here—it’s all just files and office equipment.

  “You should get a plant or something,” I say as he slowly types something with two slender fingers. “Spruce this place up a bit.”

  “I had a plant once. It died,” he says, deadpan, eyes fixed on the flat computer screen.

  “Oh.” Well, that’s the end of that conversation then. I fiddle with a loose red thread on the arm of the chair. “Find anything?”

  “I’m in his files. He’s scanned a lot of books in. But I can’t . . . ah, got it.”

  He clicks something. Then his face blanches.

  “What is it?” I say.

  He curses under his breath. “It’s not there. The Arrows must have wiped it after they left.”

  “Curtis said they used your computer to log in?” I say. “Have you checked for deleted files? They could still be on there.”

  He looks at me blankly. I lift myself from the armchair and go stand behind him. “Just go back to the desktop . . . no . . . no, don’t click there. See that little bin icon? . . . No . . . not that one . . .”

  He moves the mouse wildly about the screen and I bite back the growing spurt of frustration. It reminds me of the time I tried to show my grandma how to send an email.

  “What are you doing?! Just get out of the way!” I slap his hand off the mouse and lean over him, feeling his irritable breaths on the back of my neck. “How do you have all this surveillance technology and not know how to use a computer properly?”