Cupid.
He’s no longer wearing a jacket, and his shirt sleeves are rolled up over his muscular arms. His hair is slightly ruffled, and there is a pink bruise emerging over his left eye, as though he’s been fighting. And as soon as I cast my eyes on him, I want to be close to him too; to run my fingers down the muscles in his back, taste his kisses, feel his lips brush against mine.
“Cupid.”
I am consumed by fire; my skin is alight with it. My heart thumps so hard against my rib cage it feels like it’s trying to leap through my chest and into his. He looks at me and then at his brother.
“She was hit by the Capax,” Cal says.
I take a step toward Cupid, my eyes fixed on his face. I have never wanted anything more than for him to kiss me.
Something is playing out behind his solemn expression. Then he swallows hard and forces a smile onto his face.
“Come on, lovebug,” he says, placing a firm hand on the small of my back. “Let’s get you back. You need to sleep this off.” He shoots his brother an unfriendly look over his shoulder. “I took out a few of the Arrows, but there could be more. We need to get back. There’s been a change of plan, and I don’t think either of you are going to like it.”
“Where’s Charlie?” I ask suddenly, though thoughts of my friend are clouded and far away. My skin feels like its burning where Cupid touches me.
“Yeah, that’s where the change of plan comes in. I’ll explain in the car.”
He steers me through the crowd and out of the gym, Cal following closely behind, his eyes cast to the ground.
39
I wake up in the middle of the night to find that I’m in a large four-poster bed. The sheets are silky against my skin. It’s dark, but the window across the room lets in the light of a full moon outside. It illuminates a pile of tattered books on the side table.
I’m in Cupid’s bed.
I force my mind to go over the events of the last few hours: the Arrows, the strong pull I felt toward Cupid, and then finally being sent to bed to sleep off the effects of the Capax. I put my head in my hands, cringing hard.
Oh God, did I dance with Cal?
Then my breath catches as I remember what happened to Charlie. When things didn’t go to plan, Cupid said they’d had to improvise. They’d faked a fight between the two of them until the Arrows had realized their chance to grab me had passed and invited her to go with them. And she went.
I can’t believe Cupid didn’t stop her. He said she’d be safe, that we could track the GPS on her phone and that would lead us to Charlie and Crystal. But I don’t like this at all. I don’t want her to be in such a dangerous situation.
I slide out of bed. I need to know whether they’ve found her yet—I need to know my friend is safe. I quickly check my phone to see if she’s messaged me, then pad across the hardwood floor to the door. I’m still wearing my dress, and my hair is tangled around my shoulders. I must look a mess right now.
From the doorway I hear raised voices coming from downstairs. I creep along the hallway and make my way down the twisty staircase.
“I’ve reread Crystal’s account in The Records of the Finis,” I hear Cal snap. “And the Finis can kill anyone who shares the blood of Cupid. That’s what it says.”
There’s the flutter of papers as Cal presumably drops the document onto the breakfast bar.
“What’s your point, Brother?” asks Cupid.
“It’s not just me who shares your blood, is it? There’s another. If you’re doing what I think you’re doing . . .”
“And what’s that?”
There’s a pause.
“You want the match to be made,” says Cal, lowering his voice to an angry whisper. “You want the founder back. And you want the Finis. You don’t want it to protect yourself, you want it to kill—”
“So what if what you’re saying is true?” says Cupid. “Wouldn’t it be better? To not live in fear anymore? You and Amena could be together again.”
“I don’t feel that way about her anymore,” snaps Cal.
There’s a pause.
“Well, after that display at the dance, it does seem you’ve moved on,” Cupid says, and I note a hint of jealousy in his tone.
Cal doesn’t reply for a moment. Then, “You shouldn’t be putting so many lives at stake,” he says quietly.
Thinking I hear footsteps approaching, I hurry back down the hallway. “And you especially shouldn’t be putting Lila’s life at stake,” Cal’s fading voice says as I slip back into the bedroom.
My heart is thumping fast. I don’t think I can trust Cupid anymore.
What is going on?
I want to get out of here, but I can’t leave yet, not when Charlie is in danger. When I hear footsteps start down the hall, I run to the bed and leap back in.
There’s a light rap on the bedroom door and my body tenses. I don’t want either of the brothers to know I heard them. Especially not Cupid. Not yet, not until I know what I need to do.
There’s another rap.
“Lila?” Cupid’s voice comes into the room. “You awake?”
I don’t reply. He knocks again.
“Lila?”
Taking a deep breath, I sit up. I scoot back toward the headboard and pull the silky sheets to my chin. “Yes?”
Cupid opens the door. He’s changed out of his suit and is now wearing baggy gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt. He approaches the bed and sits down on the edge, placing a stack of folded clothing beside him.
His breathing seems heavy. I wonder if the argument he has just had with Cal has got to him.
“Have you managed to track Charlie yet?” I ask in a voice as even as I can make it.
“There’s something interfering with the signal,” he says, “but she’ll message us when she can. She’ll be safe, don’t worry—they think she’s one of them.”
My heart drops. I want to find her. I want her back.
Cupid says nothing for a moment. “I just wanted to check you were okay,” he says.
“I’m fine.”
Cupid looks at me curiously. “Are you sure?” When I force a smile, he points to the stack at the end of the bed. “I’ve brought you some clothes,” he says. “Just an old T-shirt and some of my shorts. I thought you’d be more comfortable.”
I nod again. He seems to study me for a moment.
“I know you’re worried about your friend, but she’ll be okay. We’ll get her and Crystal out of there before you know it. Trust me.”
I force another smile—my cheeks are starting to scream.
“You danced with my brother,” he says after an awkward silence. His voice is a little strained, and before I can answer, he stands up. “It was just the Capax,” he says, then walks briskly to the door.
“Cupid?”
He looks over his shoulder.
“Who’s the founder of the Matchmaking Service?”
A look of suspicion creeps onto his face. I wonder if he’s realized I’ve overheard his conversation.
“We made a deal, Cupid.”
He nods sharply. “In the morning,” he says. “We’ll go to the Love Shack first thing and I’ll tell you everything.” He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Get some sleep.”
Cal is sitting at the breakfast bar when I come down several hours later, clutching a cup of coffee and staring vacantly at nothing. He looks like he hasn’t slept all night. The Records of the Finis sits in front of him. He jumps when I walk in.
“Hi, Cal.” The air between us feels charged. I know we’re both thinking about our dance last night.
“Lila,” he says shortly, giving a sharp nod in greeting.
“Any news?”
He shakes his head. “We think Charlie has no phone signal wherever she is. We just have to wait it out, hope she ma
nages to send us a message today.” He goes back to staring at the papers on the table.
“What are you doing?”
Cal runs an agitated hand through his hair. “Just trying to find some clue as to where Crystal might have hidden the Finis. When she was taken she said, ‘I wasn’t always a receptionist.’ What does that mean?”
“What was she before she was a receptionist?” I ask.
He shrugs. “An agent,” he says. “Like me. Before that, a human. But that doesn’t help at all.”
I think for a moment. “When did she become a receptionist?”
“I don’t remember. There’ll be a record of it somewhere, though.” He looks up at me, his silvery eyes a little brighter. “Hey. That might actually help!”
I give him a half smile. “The tone of surprise is a bit insulting,” I say, heading toward the door. “I’m going to walk home. I want to get changed and check in with my dad before we go to the Love Shack.”
“Dressed like that?” he says. “Won’t he be a bit suspicious as to where you’ve been?”
I look down at my combo of huge white T-shirt, baggy shorts, and heels.
He sighs then gets to his feet. “Come on, I’ll take you.”
I follow him to his Lamborghini. On the road things get awkward again. My mind flashes back to our fingers entwined, our foreheads touching. I feel heat rushing to my face and try to distract myself, looking out of the window.
“You’re meeting Cupid today, aren’t you?” he asks suddenly.
I nod.
“He’s going to give you some answers?”
I nod again. Cal sighs heavily as he pulls up outside my house. He looks like he’s holding the world atop his slender shoulders.
“I won’t try to stop him,” he says. “It’s against procedure for our organization to divulge secrets to humans, but nothing is worse than the consequence of you matching with him. It’s about time you learned the truth.”
I wonder if his heated conversation with Cupid last night has changed his perspective on things. I step out of the car and turn back to look at him seriously.
“Yes, I think it is.”
40
Half an hour later I’m walking down the alley toward the Love Shack. The florist’s flowers perfume the air, and the overly sweet scent mixes with my nerves and makes my stomach turn. I have a feeling that whatever Cupid is about to tell me, I’m not going to like it.
I let Eric stamp my hand, then I walk inside.
The place looks even tackier in the daytime. The sunlight struggling through the covered windows illuminates the sticky patches dotting the floor. The pink colors, vibrant at night, seem washed out and tired. And the faint aroma of stale alcohol and lime wedges doesn’t seem right this early in the morning.
It’s pretty much empty, and I see Cupid as soon as I enter. He’s sitting at a pink table on the other side of the room.
I take a deep breath then make my way toward him. He’s wearing jeans and a wrinkled black cotton T-shirt that looks like he pulled it off the floor this morning. His hair is messy and there’s a slouch in his posture. I pull out the stool opposite him and sit down. He smiles at me, but it is strained.
Neither of us speaks for a moment as one of the waiters appears with a pot of coffee. Cupid pours the dark liquid into two mugs then looks at me intensely.
“So, Lila,” he says, “what do you want to know?”
I think of all the things I want to ask him, wondering where to start. I take a sip of my coffee then look up at him.
“Why is it so bad that the founder comes back?” I ask. “Why is Cal so afraid that will happen?”
“He thinks it will mean the end of the world.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Will it?”
Cupid holds my gaze. “Perhaps.”
“Is that what you want? Do you want the world to end?”
“You heard us talking last night,” Cupid says. When I say nothing to confirm or deny that, he continues, “I did want the founder to come back, but not to end the world. I wanted to save the world. But now . . .” He looks at me sadly. “I didn’t expect to feel this way . . . about you, about us, about anything. I don’t want to put you in danger, Lila. I’m just worried it’s too late.”
I feel my heart rate accelerate and my skin prickles. The answer to my next question should tell me everything I need to know.
“So . . . who is the founder of the Matchmaking Service?”
He runs his hand through his hair. “She goes by a lot of names,” he says. “Aphrodite, Venus—she’s the original goddess of love.” He looks at me darkly. “Or, as Cal and I refer to her, Mother.”
Neither of us speaks for a moment. I stare at Cupid across the table. He looks at me darkly.
“Venus? As in the goddess?”
He nods, his eyes watchful. “She’s insanely powerful, extremely dangerous, and nearly unstoppable.”
“And she’s . . . your mother?” I should have paid more attention when we did mythology at school.
Cupid sighs. “Look,” he says, “I know this is a lot . . .”
“And she’s coming back? If we’re matched? Why?”
“Breathe, Lila,” says Cupid. “I can explain.” Without asking he pours some more coffee into my mug. “Let’s take this one step at a time. What would you like to know first?”
“Oh, I don’t know, the end of the world thing might be a good starting point.”
Cupid pauses then takes a sip of his own coffee. He runs his hand through his hair again.
“It doesn’t have to come to that. But if we’re matched—then she will come back.”
“And why is that so terrible?”
“It’s hard to explain,” he says, “but the old gods don’t belong in this world. In the old times, they roamed free and ruled over all. They had no regard for the lives of humans—they commanded countless sacrifices, massacres, wars . . . Venus was one of the most powerful and sadistic of them all. The goddess of love.”
His eyes burn into mine.
“And there is nothing more powerful or sadistic than love.”
I take this in, then push on with my next question. “Why will she come back if we’re matched?”
He rubs his chin. “There was a shift around two thousand years ago. The old gods left, went dormant. The reason why was never clear—maybe it was because people stopped worshipping them, or maybe they just became bored of this life. But they still watch over us. They have their eyes everywhere—in their statues, their remaining temples, and through those who still serve them. They lie in wait for an opportunity to return.”
He pauses, waiting for me to process what he has just said. Then he continues.
“About a millennium before they went away, Venus founded the Cupids Matchmaking Service. It was the most efficient way for her to remain powerful. She gained power every time a match was made, and every cupid, upon getting hit by an arrow, entered into a contract with her. They were sworn to serve her in secrecy by making those matches, and in payment they received eternal strength, youth, and beauty. They’re still bound by that contract.”
I frown. “But where do I come into all of this?” I ask. “Why will she come back if we’re matched?”
“Cupids are forbidden to fall in love themselves. It was the rule she enforced most severely, punishing and torturing anyone in her service who broke it.”
I look at him, confused. “Why?”
He shrugs. “She said it was a distraction—that it would prevent the cupids from wholeheartedly serving her. I always wondered if there was more to it, though—some kind of power behind a cupid being matched that could be harnessed against her if it was discovered.”
“But she’s gone now.”
Cupid’s face is unusually serious. “Yes,” he says slowly, “but before she left, she wrote
the company policy. In it she listed rules, which if broken, would mean she would come back to bring order to the Matchmaking Service. And one of those rules was—”
“No cupid must ever be matched,” I say, remembering the words carved underneath the stone statue in the Matchmaking Service. The statue was Venus. That was why Cal seemed so uneasy around it.
“Would that really mean the end of the world, though?” I ask. “If she’s just bringing order to the Matchmaking Service, is that really so bad?”
Cupid shakes his head. “You don’t know what it was like in the old days. Do you really think a god would be satisfied with reigning over one organization? We’re talking mass human sacrifices, wars over love, forced worship at temples erected in her name, more cupids created, more Ardor arrows punishing humans. She’ll take back the Matchmaking Service . . . and then she’ll take back the world.”
I stare at him, my brain whirring. I’m trying to make sense of everything, but it’s still not all fitting together. “Before, you said you wanted her to come back? If she’s so bad . . . then why?”
A dark look crosses his face. “I want to put an end to her,” he says, “once and for all. For thousands of years we’ve lived in fear, bound by her rules, knowing she could come back and destroy lives at any moment. She’s been more lenient with me breaking rules because of who I am, but she wouldn’t be able to ignore this one. Cupid himself finding his Match!” He shakes his head ruefully. “What would the others think if she didn’t enforce her own most revered policy? If I break this rule, she will return.”
“You want to draw her back and then kill her with the Finis.”
He nods and a wave of nausea, cold and clammy, settles over me.
“You want to kill your mom?!”
He reaches for my hand over the table but I pull it away. “Lila, listen, yes. But—”
“That’s horrible,” I say quietly. “She’s your mother.”
His lips tighten. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lila. She’s a monster.”
My heart thuds in my chest. I don’t know what to make of any of this. I can’t relate to it, none of it—not a goddess returning, not wanting to kill your own mother. I rub my face, trying to make sense of it.
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