Cupid's Match

by Lauren Palphreyman

  Cupid saunters back into the room carrying two steaming mugs. He places one down before me and throws himself back into the armchair.

  “Cal,” I say, “the file you’re looking at—it has employee details in it?”

  He looks up at me sharply, seeming irritated by the interruption. “Yes?”

  “So presumably it will have the dates when cupids started working for the Matchmaking Service?”

  “Yes. But what good is that?”

  “Does it have the date when Crystal stopped being an agent and started being the receptionist?”

  He studies me a moment, then looks back down at the file and flicks through it. He stops on a page and scans it for a few moments.

  “January 1889,” he says. “But I don’t see why that is important.”

  1889. Just after her visit to Whitechapel to retrieve the Finis.

  I ignore him and grab the sepia photograph, studying it again. Then I turn back to the pile on the coffee table, sifting through the photographs until I find the group shot from 1889. Sure enough, Crystal is there, smiling in the center.

  I look up and grin, realizing now what else was missing from the first image.

  “It’s important,” I say, “because I know where the Finis is.”

  The street in front of the Matchmaking Service is quiet beneath the lit streetlights. The clock on the dashboard of Cupid’s car reads eleven forty. We have twenty minutes before the Arrows get here.

  “You really think it’s in the Cupids Matchmaking Service?” Charlie says from her spot beside me in the backseat.

  I nod.

  “And you want me to break in?”

  “No. Yes. Well . . . kind of.”

  Cal looks at us in the rearview mirror. “It’s not a break-in. You are welcome there.”

  “Unlike any of us,” Cupid adds.

  “Thanks to your brilliant plan of resurrecting a goddess,” I say.

  Cupid makes a dismissive sound as Charlie says, “What?!”

  “If you’re quite finished,” Cal says.

  He turns to look at Charlie. “In normal circumstances, one of the cupids would have brought you in already, usually the one who turned you. Because that was someone from the Arrows rather than a cupid from our L.A. branch, I expect that Crystal would have been assigned as your mentor.”

  “And you want me to take the Finis?”

  “No,” says Cal. “To take it yourself would be a one-way ticket to banishment. We can’t ask that of you. You just need to get the receptionist to leave the desk before midnight, which is when they usually swap shifts. Once the area is clear, we’ll do the rest.”

  She nods. I’m grateful that after everything that’s happened to her, she’s still willing to help.

  “Be careful. We only have one shot at this,” Cal warns.

  “So no pressure or anything,” says Cupid.

  As Charlie opens the door of the car and steps out onto the street, I marvel at the simplicity of Crystal’s clue. She was giving us the answer this whole time. When she’d got back from London with the Finis, she must have maneuvered herself to work in a position where she could watch over it at all times.

  It was the arrow hung over the desk. She’d hidden it in plain sight.

  “Wish me luck,” Charlie says.

  I watch as she walks down the street toward the Cupids Matchmaking Service, then glance at the quiver full of arrows by my side. My heart beats fast as I think about the potential fight ahead.

  “Good luck, Charlie,” I say quietly.

  We sit in tense silence for a few minutes before Cal exhales loudly. He grabs his bow from the satchel beside me and opens the car door.

  “I’m going to try and get a bit closer, see if I can see what’s going on.” He looks at me and then at Cupid. “Behave yourselves,” he adds sharply before stepping out of the car.

  We fall into silence again as Cal moves stealthily down the sidewalk. Cupid turns to look at me, and, despite myself, I find my gaze wandering toward his lips. Despite everything, I still find myself wondering what they would taste like.

  “You’re still angry with me,” he says.

  “I have to be,” I say. “What’s the alternative?”

  He gives me a sad smile. “You forgive me, give us a chance, and we live happily ever after?”

  I force a laugh. “This isn’t a fairy tale. Love isn’t a fairy tale. If I give us a chance, Venus comes after us and I’m guessing we don’t live at all.”

  “What is a fairy tale without a monster to defeat?”

  I shake my head then drag my gaze away. “You used me. When you get the Finis you need to leave.”

  He sighs heavily. “You have my word. As soon as we have the final arrow I’ll get out of town. The Arrows will come after me, Venus won’t return, and you’ll never see me again.”

  Even though it’s what I asked of him, his words make me feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

  He has to go. But I want him to stay.

  I rest my head on the leather headrest and nod. “Okay.”

  He reaches over the seat to try and take my hand but I don’t let him. I have to be strong. I feel my anger coming back, and I seize upon it gladly. It doesn’t matter that he now seems to have acquired a conscience—he used me to try and resurrect an ancient goddess, he made me feel something for him, and now he is leaving me behind.

  “You should never have come here,” I blurt, fixing him with my stare.

  He looks momentarily hurt. Then a flash of annoyance crosses his face. “Well, I’ll be leaving you in good company at least,” he retorts coldly. “I would have thought you would appreciate some alone time with my brother.”

  I stare at him in shock but before I can respond, my phone vibrates. It’s Charlie. She’s inside.

  43

  Cupid immediately snatches his bow and quiver then climbs out of the car and slams the door behind him.

  When I get out of the car and sling my own quiver over my shoulder, I note the distinctive lack of black arrows. It’s not the Arrows we’re dealing with this time around, and Cal doesn’t want the members of the Matchmaking Service to be harmed too badly; they were his colleagues and friends, after all.

  “Let’s go, then,” says Cupid. “We don’t have much time.”

  We walk down the street in heavy silence, me half running to keep up with his long strides. We spot Cal just ahead, feet away from the Matchmaking Service entrance. On seeing us approach, he nods in our direction then slips through the door.

  Cupid and I jog after him to the glass shop front. It’s empty inside. Immediately, my eyes home in on what we came here for: the long golden arrow that hangs above the reception desk.

  The Finis.

  Cal is already inside, passing the neon-colored armchairs and sprinting toward the high stone reception desk. Cupid opens the door and we both hurry inside as Cal pulls himself up and reaches for the arrow.

  “How long have we got?” I ask.

  “Not long,” says Cupid, not looking at me.

  Then Cal has it in his hand. He pulls, and it detaches easily. He looks at us, a triumphant expression on his face. And then the alarm starts.

  “Dammit!” Cal mutters, his face panic stricken as he leaps down in front of us, slipping the Finis into the quiver over his shoulder. “Run!”

  Cupid pushes me ahead of him. I’m just behind Cal going through the exit when there’s an inhuman shriek of pain behind us. I spin around as Cupid falls to his knees in the center of the reception, four Ardor arrows embedded in his back. Curtis stands in the doorway from the office, a large bow raised. Agitated, he’s shouting into his headset for more agents to come.

  He swipes another arrow from his quiver as voices raise behind him.

  Cupid looks up at us. “Go,” he splutters, his fa
ce red, his eyes unfocused. “Get out of here.”

  The exit is just behind me. I share a look with Cal, who shakes his head quickly, trying to tell me not to do what I’m about to do. But I can’t leave him.

  I race back inside, dodging an Ardor that Curtis sends my way as more agents spill into the reception area. Cal bites out a curse and sends a stream of arrows over our heads. I throw Cupid’s arm over my shoulder.

  But Cupid’s too heavy—I can’t lift him and he doesn’t respond to my desperate pulling. Cal’s arrows are buying us time, but now the agents are advancing toward us. My eyes find Charlie, who is watching the scene unfold in horror from the back of the room. Our eyes meet but she does nothing, her expression uncertain.

  “Help me!” I scream at her.

  Nothing.

  Another arrow slams into Cupid’s shoulder.

  His eyes water and he’s stopped making any sound. I grab his face, forcing his gaze onto me. “Cupid! Come on. Get up!”

  The nearest agent reaches for Cupid’s shoulder. He is tall with striking blue eyes. He looks strong. And merciless.

  This is it. We’re done for.

  Then he cries out in pain as an arrow is thrust into his neck. Charlie stands over him, her brown eyes shining fiercely. She throws Cupid’s other arm around her shoulder as Cal hits the two other agents reaching for us in quick succession. Her cupid strength makes all the difference, and with Cal covering us with his rain of arrows, we manage to move Cupid out to the street.

  “Get him to the car,” says Cal. “I’ll try to hold them off.”

  Cupid starts to regain consciousness as the three of us move toward the Aston Martin. An Ardor skims past my arm, snagging some of the material of my leather jacket. Cal is still behind us, sending arrows back toward our pursuers.

  “Get him in the back!” Cal calls. “I’ll drive.”

  We push Cupid into the backseat beside me and Charlie runs around to the passenger seat. Then Cal sprints to us, turning his back to the arrows hurtling his way. He makes it to the car and throws himself inside, immediately locking the doors as arrows ping against the outside of the vehicle. Soon, two agents are banging on the hood.

  “You are under arrest! Get out of the car.”

  Cal ignores them and starts the engine, then puts his foot down on the accelerator.

  “The match must not be made!” an agent cries, but he’s forced to jump out of the way as we power off down the road.

  Cupid’s head lolls onto my shoulder. He is whimpering quietly, and there is a thin sheen of perspiration across his forehead. Charlie is muttering in the front seat, her head in her hands. “Oh God, oh God,” I hear her quietly repeating to herself.

  I reach out and grab her shoulder in what I hope is a reassuring manner, then I look out of the rear window. The road is dark for a couple of minutes, but then I see two cars—a Porsche and a Jaguar—roar into view behind us.

  “Cal,” I say, “they’re coming.”

  He accelerates. The car skids around a sharp corner, throwing Cupid on top of me.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, pushing a groaning Cupid back into an upright position.

  “Don’t know!” yells Cal.

  I glance over my shoulder again. Another car has joined the chase and they’re all gaining on us. The night is filled with sounds of screeching brakes and beeping horns. They’re closing in. We’re going to get caught.

  Then suddenly they drop back. I blink in confusion.

  “Cal . . . what’s going on?”

  His expression in the mirror is equally confused. Then his phone buzzes. Keeping his eyes on the road, he pulls it out of his pocket and throws it onto my lap.

  “Read it.”

  I read it aloud:

  Contacted the Matchmaking Service. I’ve bought you some time. But there’s a condition—they want something in return for their leniency. I said I’d make the arrangements. Come back to the house. I’ll explain everything. Crystal.

  “Atta girl, Crystal,” Cupid mumbles, his head rolling back to rest on the back of the seat.

  A wave of relief crosses Cal’s face. He turns the car around and heads back toward Forever Falls. I look at the screen and frown, then key in a reply.

  What do they want in return?

  Seconds later the phone buzzes with Crystal’s response.

  Cupid.

  44

  I stare blankly at Cal’s phone, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Then I glance at Cupid, whose head is still lolling against the seat. His eyes are closed and his breathing is fast and shallow. My eyes find Cal’s in the rearview mirror.

  “Their condition is Cupid,” I say quietly as he drives. “The Matchmaking Service is letting us go back safely because Crystal told them they could have Cupid.”

  To my surprise Cal gives a noncommittal shrug.

  “I thought as much,” he says as we reach the sign reading Forever Falls.

  “What? You mean you’re okay with this?”

  His angular features harden. “You don’t understand anything, do you? They were hardly going to let us off with no consequence. You’ve learned by now what happens if Cupid is matched, I presume? He’s been on their undesirable list for years. You should be thankful it’s not you they’re after.”

  I sit in stunned silence for a moment before Charlie turns around.

  “Maybe he’s right, Lila,” she says tentatively. “I’m new to all this—but if those Arrow guys are after you and Cupid because they think you’re going to get together . . . well, they’ll have no reason to try and kill you if he’s in custody.”

  I open my mouth to retort but Cupid rolls his head toward me and looks at me with bleary eyes. “S’okay, Lila.”

  I look at him. His face is flushed and his body is as hot as a furnace. “Cupid? What can I do to help you?”

  “He’ll be fine,” says Cal. “The Ardor just needs to work its way out of his system. Crystal recovered.”

  I look up at him. “Are you seriously going to let them take him? When he’s like this? He can’t defend himself. What will they do to him?”

  Cal takes a turn and I realize we are approaching the hill by Cupid’s house.

  “They’ll put him on trial. It’s no less than he deserves.”

  Moments later Cupid’s house looms before us. Cal parks the car outside the front door.

  “I can’t believe you’re even contemplating this,” I say angrily. “What’s wrong with you? He’s your brother! And he said he was leaving town after he got the Finis, anyway.”

  Cal looks sharply over his shoulder. “My brother says a lot of things he doesn’t mean.”

  I shake my head. “He gave me his word. He really will leave. I told him there was no future for us.”

  Uncertainty flickers behind Cal’s silver eyes. We stare at each other for a few tense moments.

  “Does that change anything?” I finally ask.

  Cal sighs and opens the car door. “Maybe,” he says. “Let’s just get him inside and see what Crystal has to say.”

  He comes around to the back and grabs his quiver, which has the golden Finis bunched in among the other arrows. Then he throws Cupid’s arm over his shoulder and hauls him up the driveway, reminding me again of his understated strength. Cupid is bigger, yet Cal holds him upright with a casual ease.

  Charlie and I follow the brothers back into the house.

  Crystal is sitting at the breakfast bar when we enter, stirring a mug of coffee. Her skin looks unusually pale and there are dark circles under her otherwise bright blue eyes. In front of her is a narrow, black case. Her gaze slides across all of us, lingering on Cupid, then resting on the quiver slung over Cal’s shoulder.

  “You found it,” she says, her voice a little weak.

  Cal nods, still supporting Cupid, whose head ha
s drooped onto his chest.

  “What happened?” he asks her.

  “I told the Matchmaking Service about the Finis, and how the Arrows tortured me to gain possession of it. The Matchmaking Service agreed to pardon you and Charlie for your involvement, and they have issued an arrest warrant for the members of the Arrows involved with my kidnapping, so they should be off your case, for the time being at least.”

  “But they want Cupid?” I say quietly.

  Crystal turns to look at me. “Yeah,” she says. “And they want the Finis.”

  Cal’s features darken. “They’ll kill him.”

  Crystal shrugs. “Maybe,” she says, “or maybe not. I don’t think they want to. They’d fear a backlash if they were wrong. I think they’ll do something worse.”

  “Put him in a Sim you mean,” Cal says quietly, color leaving his face.

  I look at Cal questioningly, and he tries to school his features into something less horrified.

  “They can sentence someone to time inside a Sim—trap them inside their own mind.”

  Nausea fills me. “Look, maybe Cupid’s been selfish in coming here, but he doesn’t deserve this,” I say. “The match hasn’t been made. No harm has been done. Can’t you just let him go?”

  Crystal pinches the bridge of her nose, eyes cast down to the granite breakfast bar. “Not when we can’t guarantee he won’t come back.”

  “He won’t,” I say.

  “And what am I supposed to say to the rest of the Matchmaking Service, Lila?” she asks. “That I let him go because his Match told me to? I’ll end up on trial myself.”

  “But—”

  “Tell them he escaped.” Cal’s voice is low.

  Crystal snaps her head toward the two of them. Cupid groans, his face flushed, and I can’t tell if he’s trying to join the conversation about his fate, or whether he’s just in pain. Cal shushes him.

  “I’ll make sure he leaves in the morning,” says Cal. “I’ll have him swear an oath on the Styx not to come back in Lila’s lifetime.” He takes a deep breath and looks uncomfortable. “Please, Crystal.”

  She eyes Cupid warily. “He’ll never agree to that.”