“GO ON. GET THEM OUT OF MY SIGHT!” Venus screams as we all scramble toward the door. “I DON’T WANT TO LOOK AT THEM ANYMORE. GO! GO! GO!”
I don’t dare look back as the door closes behind us. Once outside, Cal lets go of my arm to pick up his bow and quiver from by the wall.
“This way,” he says, striding down the corridor toward the elevator.
I look behind me. Crystal is still wet and unconscious, draped over the male guard’s shoulder, while Cupid trudges beside the other guard, seemingly accepting his fate. I’m not sure if his calmness is terrifying or reassuring.
Does he have a plan? Or is he just too tired to fight?
As Cal and the agents usher us into the elevator, Cupid reaches for my hand and squeezes it. It’ll be okay, he mouths.
I wish I could believe that.
Back on the ground floor, we are marched to the indoor courtyard, where the male agent brings Crystal to the statue of Venus. I notice Crystal’s eyes blink open as the agent produces a key card and scans it across the face of the statue. Then he takes a step backward as the statue’s circular pool rises a couple of inches and slides across the cobbled stones. In its place is a gaping hole through which I can see the top of a twisted stairway.
“Let me go,” Crystal mumbles.
The agent places her back on her feet. He looks a bit embarrassed and I wonder if they know each other.
“Venus’s orders,” he mutters.
She gives him an icy look then surveys the rest of us. For a moment, she looks as though she’s going to make some kind of cutting remark, before seemingly deciding we’re not worth the energy. She shakes her head and heads down the stairway into the darkness beyond.
“I can take it from here,” Cal informs the two guards. When they just look at him hesitantly, he frowns. “Need I remind you that I am your superior? Go back to your post. I can handle a few prisoners.”
“You sure you can get their Sims fired up on your own?” the male guard asks.
I feel a cold dread as I remember what Cal had said about the Sims used for punishment. That is what is in store for us.
“Of course,” Cal says scornfully.
“Very well, sir,” the guard replies, and the two of them head back to their posts.
Cal leads us to the hole, waiting for Cupid and me to descend before he follows behind us. It’s dark at the bottom, dimly lit by flickering artificial lights attached to the low ceiling.
As we walk along the narrow hallway, my stomach begins to turn. Doors with barred windows line the walls, each one with a chair behind it. On each chair is a person—a person with no space to move—staring blankly into the darkness.
I peer into one cell as we pass by. A petite girl with creamy brown skin and jet-black hair has her eyes closed as though asleep. She must be around my age. When I look at her more closely, what I see makes me stagger backward. Her hair looks like it is moving, and I notice a small black snake entwining itself around her neck. A scribbled placard above the door reads Medusa.
We pass another door behind which a tall, scarred black man sits, his brown eyes staring out at nothing. I don’t catch the writing signaling his name, but I notice Crystal looking in at him and shaking her head sadly. I think back to The Records of the Finis.
Is he the Minotaur?
The lines of doors stretch onward and I see other names as we pass. Pandora. Romulus. Remus. Selena. And several I don’t recognize at all. And then my heart stutters when I see Charlie’s face peering lifelessly out of one of the barred windows.
Cal comes to a halt beside three empty cells. I’m filled with horror. I look up at Cupid for support, but to my surprise he is grinning. He walks past me and pats his brother on the back.
“Do you think Venus bought it?”
“I should think so,” says Cal.
“You got the Finis?”
Cal nods again.
“Good work, Brother.”
I’m confused, but Crystal just rolls her eyes. “You could have told me, you know,” she says to Cal. “Jerk.” With that she walks haughtily through the door nearest to her and sits down on the chair.
I stare at them, completely bewildered. “What’s going on?”
Cal turns to me, looking bashful. “I’m sorry, Lila,” he says. “It was the only way to get the Finis back in the building. You had to believe I’d betrayed you. Venus would have known if you didn’t.”
I think back to the house, remembering the long look that passed between Cal and Cupid before they went down to gather up the weapons. “You mean . . . this was the plan all along?”
Cupid nods. “A bit of a last-minute plan, but yes.”
For a moment I don’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed. I decide to settle on relieved. Things definitely aren’t perfect, but they aren’t looking as bad as they did five minutes ago. “Does there happen to be a part two of your secret master plan?”
Cal gestures at the rows of barred doors.
“Behind each one is a powerful enemy of Venus, an enemy who would like nothing better than to take her down. She keeps them all here in their own individual Sims. They’re tormented inside, their power used against them.”
He passes me, Cupid, and Crystal each a small microchip. Cupid slips his into his ear.
“That’s where we come in. We’re going to go into their Sims.” He flashes me a bright smile. “And we’re going to wake up some Myths.”
51
I look at the two brothers: Cupid, tall and happy-go-lucky; Cal, slender and serious, jaw set with determination.
“We’re going to do what now?” I ask.
Cupid takes a step toward me, and although I can feel his body heat, I shiver. My clothes are still wet from the glass case that exploded water all over me when I opened it.
“It won’t be easy,” he says, “but an army of Myths will be the last thing Venus is expecting. And I want her gone.”
I think of her clammy poreless skin and those blue, unblinking eyes. I think of the way that she pushed me across the room without straining a muscle, and of Crystal and Cupid floating in those tanks. If we don’t destroy her, she will kill us all.
“I want her gone too.”
Cupid’s face cracks into a grin. “I knew you’d come around to my way of thinking eventually.”
“Well, to be honest, I’d prefer it if we hadn’t brought her back in the first place.” I bring my eyes up to his. “She’s really your mother?”
He nods grimly. “Not the best meet-the-boyfriend’s-parents situation, eh?”
“I’m not your girlfriend.”
His grin widens. “Give me time . . .” Then he takes a step backward toward one of the tiny barred rooms. “See you in there, lovebug.” He winks then goes in, closing his door behind him.
I look up at Cal—his expression is still stony but there’s a softness in his eyes. “You’re wet,” he says. “Here.”
He takes off his hooded sweater and thrusts it at me.
“I, uh, thanks,” I say, taking it.
I pull on the hoodie, wrapping it around my body. It’s warm from Cal’s body and smells like fruity shampoo. He looks at me a moment, as though wanting to say something, then shuts his mouth.
“What is it?” I ask.
He sighs heavily, regret flashing behind his silver eyes. “I should have done more to keep this all from happening,” he says. “When I had to act like I was betraying you, well . . . it was one of the two hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”
“What was the other?”
He shakes his head.
“Amena?” I ask.
He looks up at me and, after a pause, nods.
“It’ll be okay,” I promise. “We’ll get through this.”
The ghost of a smile crosses his face. “I believe you,” he says.
Then he takes a step away from me and turns to the empty cells. “It’s time.”
I peer inside with trepidation. “You say we have to wake the Myths up. Can’t we just pull their chips out? Like when we did the training Sim? Do we really need to go in there?”
“It doesn’t work that way,” says Cal. “These Sims are made specifically for containment. They have a much harsher psychological effect than the training simulations. You pull one of these out before the prisoner is ready, and their brain won’t be able to cope. They’ll die.”
I walk into the small cell. There is a wooden chair inside, and as I sit down, Cal closes the door behind me, sealing me in with the darkness. I take a deep breath. The air feels heavy on my tongue and seems to push down on my chest. I fight the wave of panic, of claustrophobia. Cal looks at my face through the barred window.
“Put the chip in your ear.”
I do so, feeling its alien coldness. Cal takes a step back and looks at the three of us.
“I’m going to establish a link between the Sims,” he says, “so you should be able to navigate from one to the next. From what I know of the Minotaur, he’ll have managed to create the most complex one. I should be able to fit the others inside of it. I expect his will be—”
“A labyrinth,” Crystal’s voice calls.
Cal’s gaze lingers on her cell. Then he nods solemnly from in front of the bars.
“I suggest you split up and make your way through the maze, collecting the others on your way. The exit will be at the center—that’s your way out.” He looks at his brother’s cell. “Stay away from the ferry port. And, well, you could be facing some pretty bad stuff in there. So don’t die.”
He turns on his heel and makes his way back up the corridor, leaving the three of us sitting uncomfortably in the small, damp cells. I pull Cal’s hoodie closer around me.
“What happens if we die in this Sim?” I ask.
Suddenly, a loud, screeching sound of stone on stone resounds around the room. Cal must have gone back to the indoor courtyard and sealed us in. The lights in the corridor suddenly switch off and we are left in complete darkness.
“We die,” says Cupid.
I nod.
“Figures.” I’m about to ask him how likely it is that we will be killed when a wave of nausea overcomes me. I hear a faint buzzing noise and the room feels like it is moving.
“Close your eyes,” says Cupid. “We’re going in.”
When I open my eyes again we’re still in darkness, but it feels more open, as though we’re outside. In front of us is a massive arched door with brass handles.
Cupid and Crystal stand on either side of me. Crystal is wearing a clean version of her white combat suit, free of signs that just ten minutes ago she was trapped in a case filled with water. I look down at my body and see that I’m wearing a white combat suit too.
As I look at Cupid my breath catches in my throat. He’s now dressed all in black: black jeans and a black top underneath a worn leather jacket. On his feet are heavy army boots. His stormy eyes seem to pierce the door straight ahead.
He looks both scary and dreamy: a perfect nightmare. Whatever is on the other side of that door, he seems ready for it. He takes a step forward and puts a hand on the brass handle. But instead of opening it, he pauses.
“I don’t know what we’re going to be faced with in here,” he says, and the uncharacteristic seriousness of his face unnerves me.
Crystal arches an eyebrow. “Got to be better than what’s out there,” she says gesturing upward.
Tension bristles between the two of them, and I think back to the moment when I first met Crystal behind the reception desk—there was fear in her eyes when she realized I was Cupid’s Match.
She knew what it would mean. She knew that Venus would return.
Cupid looks at her. “Come on, don’t tell me you’re not excited that we finally get to use your golden arrow. You’ve been sitting under it for over a hundred years! You wouldn’t have taken it if you hadn’t the same ambitions as me . . . at least on some level.”
“Same ambitions? I would never have brought Her back—risking war, millions of lives, the fate of the world . . .”
Cupid raises his hands in surrender. “I said on some level.” Then he grasps the handle again. “Well, here we go,” he says, and pushes open the heavy, wooden door. It makes a loud screeching sound as it scrapes against the rocky ground.
And then everything is different.
We’re standing atop a steep staircase leading down to a vast maze stretching for what seems like miles. I can’t work out whether its high walls are made of many different colors, or whether they are all the same slate gray. Eerie landmarks are silhouetted against the sky —in one spot I notice a group of tall, derelict skyscrapers; in another I can see some form of carnival lighting. The maze looks like a collection of abandoned cities, filled with dead ends and decay.
Somewhere nearby I hear the crackle of fire and I spin around. A ladder now climbs the wall behind us, leading to another level. The enormity of the task before us hits me; I can’t fathom how we will find anything in here.
Cupid takes a step forward, to the edge of the staircase, and then turns around to face us, grinning. “Ah look—my brother’s left us some weapons.”
Propped on the wall behind us are three bows and quivers. Crystal scoops them up and distributes them between us, thrusting Cupid’s into his arms so forcefully that he stumbles back a few inches. He teeters on the edge of the stairs before regaining his balance.
“I’m getting a very subtle hint that you’re mad at me.”
She scowls. “Damn right I’m mad at you. We were all doing fine without you and your mother.”
Cupid looks like he’s about to retort when I step between them.
“Guys,” I say, “can we just put all this behind us until we get out of here?”
They both look at me, then Crystal shrugs.
“Fine,” she says, swinging her arrows onto her back. “We should split up anyway.” She turns to Cupid. “We’re on a pretrial Sim. We don’t know how much time we have in here before we’re brought back to the real world,” she says. “The quickest way to do this will be to send each of the Myths we free off to find the next Myth, agreed?”
He nods and she turns toward the ladder in the wall and begins to climb.
“How will we find you again?” I call.
“We meet in the center,” she says, looking down at me before disappearing over the top and out of sight.
Cupid looks at me and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Alone at last.”
“Yes, and it’s superromantic here, trapped in the dungeon of an ancient goddess who wants to kill us, having to battle our way through a ginormous labyrinth to recruit her other prisoners . . .”
Cupid laughs. “I guess that just about sums up the situation. I’ll take you on a real date when we get of here.”
“Yeah, well, we should probably go through your family tree before we do that, in case we bring back any more murderous supervillains. Who’s your dad, by the way?”
He looks at me, his eyes twinkling, but says nothing. Then he turns his sights ahead. For a moment we both stare into the gloom. Then I take a deep breath and walk to the edge of the stone staircase.
I look behind me at Cupid. “Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.”
Then I step down onto the first step, beginning my descent into the labyrinth.
52
As I walk I sense Cupid starting to descend the uneven steps behind me. I glance over my shoulder.
“Something amusing you?”
He lets out a light chuckle. “I’ve never seen someone so eager to descend a dark staircase into a mysterious labyrinth full of unknown peril before.”
The high walls on either side of the stairway are sending thick s
hadows across our path. As we continue, they seem to be closing in.
“Have you ever seen anyone descend a dark staircase into a mysterious labyrinth before?” I ask.
There’s a pause behind me.
“I suppose not. But it is dangerous, you know?”
I don’t reply for a moment, concentrating on a particularly deep step. I look up at him once I have lowered myself down, my palms still flat on the stone stair above.
“I know that,” I say, “but I assume we’re on a deadline here—what with our actual selves awaiting trial back in the Matchmaking Service.”
The corner of Cupid’s mouth quirks upward. “Time in the Sim passes differently. Hardly any time will have passed in the real world . . . which is a good thing, too, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this labyrinth is pretty huge.”
He trails off and I resume my journey downward, suppressing a smile despite the grim circumstances. There must be a thousand steps or more, some so thin and steep that I stumble on a number of occasions.
When I finally stagger onto flat ground I feel a small wave of relief. The muscles in my legs are aching and I feel slightly breathless, even though rationally I know that this is all just a simulation. I remind myself that it’s not real, but then I remember Cupid’s warning: if we die in here, we die in real life.
Cupid startles me by jumping down from the last step, his face half hidden by shadow. I look around, wondering if the path to the center will be obvious. We’re at a corner point in the maze, with two wide paths extending in different directions. The ivy-covered stone walls are so high that I can’t see their tops. The air is stagnant, lightly scented with must and damp.
“Which way do we go?”
Cupid frowns as he moves beside me. “The Sims of the different Myths won’t have been merged seamlessly—there’ll be discrepancies, clues. We need to look for anything that seems out of place.”
“How will we know if it’s out of place? I’ve not exactly seen the labyrinth blueprints.”
Cupid laughs and looks around. “Hmm. I guess anything that isn’t gray or . . . wall-y. I’ll go left, you go right. But make sure I’m always in your vision. If you stray from my sight I may never find you again.”
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