Cupid's Match

by Lauren Palphreyman

  Minutes later the corridor is clear, leaving just Cupid and me. He moves in front of me, looking into my eyes with uncharacteristic seriousness.

  “I’m sorry, Lila. I’ve put you in so much danger.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  “I should never have come here.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.”

  His face is so crestfallen that I reach out to touch his arm.

  “But I’m glad you did. You were right before,” I say. “I had given up on love. On everything, I think. But then you came here. You turned my life upside down. You’ve put me in danger, you’ve put my friends in danger, you’ve been selfish, and reckless, and insanely annoying—but whatever happens, I can’t regret that you came. Because I think you helped me find that spark inside of me again. And . . . well . . . I kinda like you.”

  He reaches for my cheek and brushes it with his thumb. “I won’t let Venus hurt you. I’d sooner impale myself with the final arrow than have anything happen to you.”

  I give him a half smile. “Well, let’s not do anything too drastic . . .”

  He smiles back, resting his forehead on mine. I feel the comforting tickle of his eyelashes against my skin. I wish we could stay this way forever. I wish we didn’t have to risk our lives in a battle that he’d started.

  “We’ll be okay,” he says. “My brother won’t miss.”

  “I know.”

  Suddenly a screech of stone fills the corridor.

  Cupid pulls his head away from mine. “It’s time.”

  We look at one another for what seems like an eternity. Then I turn and head back to my cell.

  “Lila.”

  Cupid grabs my arm just as I’m pushing the door open and spins me around. He loops his other arm around the back of my waist and pulls me into him.

  “I could never regret coming here either. I know I should, but I don’t. No matter what happens to me in there, I could never regret meeting you. You’ve changed everything.”

  “Cupid—”

  Before I can finish he presses his lips to mine. I grab the back of his shirt, bunching the material in my fingers, and kiss him back until he pulls away. I look up at him, breathless, blood pounding in my ears. There are voices coming from down the corridor.

  “Go back into the cell. Put the microchip back in your ear and act as though you’ve just come out of the Sim,” he says. “It’s what the agents will be expecting. They’re programmed to stop at the time of a prisoner’s trial.”

  I nod and open the door. “See you on the other side.”

  I throw myself back down on the seat and slip the chip back in my ear. Cupid looks at me one last time then closes the door and disappears out of view. My heart thumps hard against my rib cage as I hear the approaching sound of heavy boots.

  A few moments later the sharp face of the Commander appears through the bars of my door. Six armed guards are at attention behind him. I feel a wave of nausea. I want to be brave but I can’t steady the slight tremble in my legs.

  “Wakey, wakey, rise and shine,” says the Commander. “Venus and her army are waiting.”

  He smiles coldly.

  “It’s time for your trial.”

  58

  The Commander pulls me out of my seat, his fingers curling tightly around my arm as he drags me into the dungeon corridor.

  This is really happening. There is no turning back now.

  Cupid and Crystal are also being dragged out of their cells, shouting insults and threats at their captors all the while.

  Cupid catches my eye as four of the white-suited agents surround him. They seem to be taking no chances when it comes to risking his escape, and I watch in horror as they tear at his clothes and punch him in the stomach. I rip my arm away from the Commander’s grip, wanting to rush to Cupid’s aid, but I’m grabbed again and pulled roughly back.

  Cupid doesn’t react to the beating—he merely holds my gaze. Crystal just looks irritated. I watch as she shrugs off the male agent who is attempting to hold her still.

  The Commander releases me and stands back from the group of us, watching the scene dispassionately. “Christian, handcuff the prisoners,” he says once everyone has quieted down.

  The agent I presume is Christian slips a thick black cable around my wrists. The material is ice cold and pinches my skin. As he moves over to do the same to Crystal and Cupid, the Commander gives a thin smile.

  “Time to go, Venus is waiting.”

  The Commander strides down the damp corridor ahead of us, and I am pushed forward. I can hear the sounds of Cupid and Crystal being marched along behind me.

  I glance through the bars of the dark cells as we walk by, catching glimpses of the Myths sitting inside. The Minotaur winks at me as we pass, a dangerous smile playing about his lips. I remember what Cupid said in the labyrinth.

  The Minotaur is a killer.

  We could use a killer around about now. But when I think of Pandora’s reaction to Cal back in the Sim, and Cupid’s revelation that the Matchmaking Service had put a lot of the Myths in there, I find myself wondering if they’ll really come to our aid.

  We are forced up the stone steps and into the indoor courtyard. As we pass the stone statue, I think of the real version of Venus: her corpse-like touch, her unblinking eyes, her impossible strength. With every part of my being I will Cupid and Cal’s plan to work, but I can’t help but doubt it. Are we really going to win against a goddess?

  We’re taken down a long, wide corridor that’s new to me. The walls, floor, and ceiling are all checkered black and white. At the end is an archway through which I can hear the slow, rhythmic pounding of a large drum.

  It’s here that the Commander stops for a moment and turns to check that everyone is in position. Then he nods at the agents and steps through. I take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself.

  Christian marches me through the arch as blood pounds in my ears. We enter a vast room that looks like a mixture between a temple and a courtroom. Ahead of us, stretching past a high podium all the way to the other side of the room, is a sea of white suits and glinting arrows: rows and rows of seated cupids. They all stare at us as Christian grabs my arm and pulls me forward.

  As we pass the tall, wooden judge’s bench, Venus’s sickly sweet scent almost overpowers me. I glance up and see she’s decorated the bench with bouquets of myrtles and roses. They look wilted and sad, like flowers at a funeral.

  When we’re marched onto a raised stone platform, I gasp despite myself. In the center are three black metal poles, a length of cable hanging from each. Around the outside are ten agents, each with a large drum that they bang rhythmically.

  The stern Italian Arrow who kidnapped Crystal stands at the ready. His bow is much larger and more elaborate than the ones I’ve seen Cupid or Cal use, and in his quiver are three black arrows and one gold: the replica of the Finis.

  As the agents force me, Cupid, and Crystal toward the poles, I realize that if Cal doesn’t act soon, this is where we will be executed. Christian roughly pulls my bound hands above my head and attaches them to the cable hanging from the top of the pole. I let him, because it is part of the plan, but a wave of panic consumes me as soon as I am trapped in place. When I pull against the restraints, the bindings dig into my flesh. There is no escape.

  “I don’t like this,” I hear Crystal hiss at Cupid as she is bound to the pole to my left. “I need to tell you—”

  One of the agents slaps her across the face, silencing her.

  “Crystal!” I say.

  She looks up at me, her cheek an angry pink. Before she can say anything else the same agent looks into my eyes. “Shut it.”

  Moments later Cupid is bound to the pole on my other side. Although his hands are bound above his head, too, he turns to give me a weak, worn-down smile. There are rips in his black cotto
n T-shirt and tired smudges below his eyes. I wish I could reach out to touch him.

  “You okay, lovebug?”

  I can hardly hear him over the pounding of the drums. I nod but I’m not; if I wasn’t tied to this pole, my legs would be buckling. My mind reels over images of my life, my friends, my dad. He must be so worried.

  I don’t want to die.

  Frantically, I search the crowd for Cal. Finally, I spot him standing at the end of the front row. His face is a mask again, his silver eyes cold.

  Then suddenly the pounding of the drums stops, leaving the vast space in deathly silence.

  Venus is standing behind the floral bench.

  Her red hair is newly braided with white flowers and her glassy eyes look straight ahead. She is now wearing a revealing white strappy dress that is almost the same color as her pale skin.

  Her gaze falls to Crystal and Cupid, then slides to me. I feel my skin crawl as her lips twist into a cruel smile.

  “Well, shall we begin?”

  59

  The courtroom is completely silent.

  Cal said that the Myths would arrive as soon as the trial started. Where are they?

  I twist against my bindings to scan the vast room. Crystal’s face has drained of color, but Cupid wears a defiant smile, his gaze never leaving his mother’s face. She stares at him for a moment, her doll-like eyes unblinking, before looking past us to the rows of matchmaking agents sitting behind.

  “We are here today to witness the trial of Cupid, my son; Crystal, the traitor; and Lila”—she slides her gaze back to me, her full red lips contorting into a grin—“the Match.”

  As her childish voice echoes around the chamber, the cupids begin to stamp their feet against the ground—quietly at first, but then with increasing vigor. I feel a chill creep down my spine.

  When the noise has faded, Venus picks up a white myrtle from the high desk in front of her. “Should they be found guilty,” she says, violently plucking off the flower’s petals, “they will be punished by death.”

  She opens her hand and the flower stem falls to the ground.

  “Charles, read out the charges.”

  The redheaded PA scuttles forward and stands by her side. In his hand he clutches an electronic tablet. I notice a slight tremble in his hands.

  “Cupid. Charged with breaking the company policy.”

  The Italian Arrow with the elaborate bow turns toward Cupid and points his weapon. He is clearly to be our executioner.

  “Lila,” says Charles, and my heart jumps into my throat as the executioner turns his bow toward me. “Charged with being the Match.”

  “Hardly her fault,” says Cupid, “but rationality was never your strong suit, was it, Mother?”

  Outrage flickers across Venus’s face. “SOMEONE DEAL WITH THIS INSOLENCE. CAL?”

  A red-tipped arrow sinks into Cupid’s shoulder and he cries out. I twist against the post, the bindings pinching my skin, as his cries fill the air. Cal’s expression is blank. A flicker of anger ignites in my heart, but I snuff it out. Venus has to think he’s still on her side.

  Venus sighs, as though in relief, and she turns to look at Charles. “Well? Carry on.”

  Charles coughs nervously as Cupid’s cries turn to soft grunts. His face is pale and clammy, but the pain seems to have lessened. He is back to staring at Venus, a forced smile on his face.

  “Crystal. Charged with conspiring against Venus and the Matchmaking Service.”

  I frown. Something about the wording of the charges stirs something inside of me. Before, in her office, Venus had said that Crystal was being put on trial for gallivanting about with Cupid and his Match. There was no mention of conspiring. Venus doesn’t know we are conspiring to kill her. Does she?

  I turn my head toward Crystal, whose face is panic stricken. She looks past me at Cupid, as though trying to tell him something. He stares straight ahead at his mother but he is no longer smiling.

  Crystal’s eyes focus on me. The Finis, she mouths, it’s not—

  Before Charles can finish reading the charges, and before Crystal can finish whatever she is trying to communicate, the doors to the room burst open. A red-tipped arrow flies straight past me and embeds itself in Charles’s chest. He crumples to the ground screaming.

  Venus’s eyes flash with rage as a humorless laugh bubbles out of Cupid’s mouth.

  “What is it, Mother?” he says. “Surprised to see your old friends?”

  The Myths are here. I spot Charlie among them, her bow still raised and pointed at Venus’s PA. There are two agents on either side of her; the one who took us to the dungeons, and Curtis, who Cal must have talked around to our side. They raise their bows and shoot silver-and-pink arrows at Cupid and Crystal.

  I feel a momentary flash of panic as I watch the arrows fly through the air, then relief as they hit the cables binding my two fellow captives. They burst free, stumbling forward onto the platform.

  As soon as he’s regained his balance, Cupid darts forward. He grabs the head of our executioner, and in a sudden movement, breaks his neck. The executioner’s face looks momentarily surprised before he thuds to the ground.

  The action jolts Venus’s army out of their stupor and behind me I hear the sounds of chairs crashing to the ground and arrows slicing through the air. Screams and shouts echo around the courtroom. Cupid, crouching by the dead executioner, catches my gaze.

  Then he swipes a black arrow from the quiver and runs toward me. Reaching for my wrists, he stabs the cable with the arrowhead. The cable bursts apart, and I fall into his arms. For a split moment I bask in the feeling of safety, before he grabs my shoulders and brings my gaze to his face.

  “Lila,” he says, his voice breathless, “come on.”

  Holding my wrist he pulls me forward and we race off the platform. On the way one of the drum-bearing agents hurls himself toward us, but Cupid knocks him out with a hard blow to the face.

  We leap over his body and dart past Pandora. She’s pointing a strange sort of gun at a female agent running toward her. A ball of energy bursts out of it, hitting her would-be attacker in the chest. The agent crumples to the floor, unconscious. Pandora grins.

  “Sloth, sends them straight to sleep.” Then she bounds off, smacking another agent across the jaw with her weapon.

  Cupid’s grip tightens around my wrist. “Come on.”

  He pulls me past Medusa and a stone statue of an agent, his face contorted in pain, and toward an upturned jury bench, throwing me down behind it just as an arrow shoots past my cheek. He cups my face in his hand.

  “Are you okay?” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion.

  “I think so. Are you? What do we do now?”

  Peering over the upturned bench, I see a blur of color as the Myths fight the army of cupids. Arrows fly through the air, and bodies and blood cover the mosaicked floor. I gasp as an agent points a black arrow at Crystal’s back. I’m about to shout to her but the Minotaur gets there first, picking up the archer and hurling him through the air. Then he turns and leaps on top of another agent, biting her neck until she crumples to the floor. He notices me looking and grins, red blood seeping from his mouth. I duck back out of sight, my stomach turning.

  “I need to find my brother,” says Cupid. He leans forward and lightly brushes my lips with his. “I’ll be right back.”

  He starts to get up but I pull him back down. “Venus said that Crystal was on trial for conspiring against her,” I say, my voice almost drowned out by the sounds of the battle. “What if she knows what we’re doing?”

  Cupid grabs my hand and squeezes. “Something’s not right,” he agrees. “That’s why I need to go and help my brother. Just stay here—out of sight.”

  “Let me help.”

  He looks at me intensely for a moment.

  “Please, Lila,” he s
ays. “Original cupid here. I can handle this.”

  I see the pleading behind his eyes and, reluctantly, I nod. He gives me a weak smile then darts back into the battle. I peer back over the top of the wooden bench as he goes, trying to find Cal. For a moment, I can’t see him among the chaos, then I catch sight of him disappearing behind a group of gladiators.

  He’s making his way toward Venus, who, to my surprise, is still standing behind the flower-covered desk, a bored smile across her red lips.

  Why isn’t she doing anything? Why is she just standing there?

  Dread fills me. Something isn’t right.

  I watch Cal as he reaches the edge of the stage. He pulls out the golden arrow from his quiver and raises it to his bow just as Cupid reaches the other side of the platform. It looks like Cal is about to shoot when Venus’s laugh suddenly booms about the courtroom, unnaturally amplified.

  I throw my hands to my ears, and see Myths in the battle falling to their feet and doing the same.

  In a disjointed movement she turns her head toward Cal. “Do you really think you could fool me?!”

  Cal’s face whitens but he holds the bow steadily.

  “I’ll admit, breaking my pets from the dungeons was a surprise, but did you really think I didn’t know that you had the Finis?” An incredulous expression flashes across her face. “I mean, helloo, I am a goddess, you know?”

  Cal stares at her, determination etched on his angular face. “Then you know that when I shoot you with it, you will die.”

  Venus giggles. “Oh, foolish boy. Even if you could hit me—don’t you know? Don’t you know anything about the Finis?”

  Cal looks at her blankly and she shakes her head.

  “Allow me to clear something up for you,” she says, her voice sickly sweet. “The Finis was forged by my tedious husband—the blacksmith of the gods. It was a weapon forged in secrecy, intended to destroy my illegitimate offspring and me. But here’s the catch: he didn’t want me to be able to harness its power, and so its power cannot be wielded by gods, or Myths, or cupids; I couldn’t destroy you with it any more than you could destroy me. It was created for the humans.”