Cupid's Treasure - Mystery of the Golden Arrow

by Ivie Green, Barbara

  “C’mon,” Jonathan said, smiling even broader.

  Amber shook her head slowly.

  “Oh, baby, it’s so c-c-c-cold–it’s freezin' outside.” He started adding his own twist to the words as he started swaying to the music. “C’mon,” he said.

  Amber’s hand lifted to his, and in the next moment she was in his arms, swaying slowly to the music. She reached up, placing her hand on his shoulder while the other was still neatly tucked into his. She could feel his chest pressed against hers with the palm of his other hand on her lower back.

  It felt safe, it felt intimate . . . it felt like home.

  “I really have to go away,” he teased, using a higher voice. “But, b-b-b-baby,” he crooned, “it’s so c-c-c-cold outside.” He used a much lower one.

  She wanted to laugh, thinking of how very close that resembled her circumstance . . . and realizing that she didn’t want to go. Amber looked up into his face, trying to memorize every curve, every line. . . .

  Jonathan held her closer still as he watched her. They continued to sway to the music, gazing into each other’s eyes until he slowly lowered his head.

  She felt his lips brush hers softly. The pressure increased as her head tipped back further, and her right heel came up off the floor. She felt a flutter in her belly that made her heart feel like bursting with sparkling energy . . . or at least it felt that way.

  Jonathan lifted his head, his body still swimming with the sensation of her lips on his. He felt like running across the lawn and kicking his heels up, but the knowledge that what was happening might very well be from the love potion made him lift his head up rather than kiss her again.

  “You are so very lovely,” Jonathan said, realizing that no other woman could compare to the one in his arms.

  Crash—Bam!

  Jonathan looked up and saw an old man in a diaper go flying across the porch and roll into the door. He immediately placed Amber behind him, watching as Jacques appeared, holding what must have been the old man’s butt flap.

  Jonathan stepped forward, opened the door, and stood looking at Jacques and the man he held.

  “Look at what I found lurking in the bushes,” Jacques said. “It is number two, oui?”

  “What are you doing out here?” Jonathan asked. “I thought you went to bed.”

  “Me?” Jacques asked. “I would think that asking what he is doing out here is a better question.”

  Jonathan took a step closer to the old man.

  “Wait!” Number Two cringed. “If you kill me, you will destroy all love on the earth.”

  With a low and menacing voice, Jonathan asked, “What do you want?”

  “I just need my arrow in order to go home,” Number Two said, holding up his hands in surrender.

  “And where is home?” Jonathan asked sarcastically. “Mt. Olympus?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “Good, you’ve heard of it.”

  “What do you want with her?” Jonathan took a step forward and grabbed a hold of the swath of cloth that hung from his shoulder.

  “I’m here on an urgent mission,” Number Two said quickly.

  Jonathan’s eyes narrowed. “Keep talking.”

  “I must bring my parents together, or I will cease to exist,” Number Two said seriously.

  Jonathan rolled his eyes and sighed in disgust.

  “But then all love will be destroyed on the earth,” Jacques noted.

  “Exactly,” the man said. “I had to come. Look at me. There is not much time left.”

  “Who are your parents?” Jonathan asked.

  “Well, isn’t it obvious?” the old man asked in response to Jonathan and the others’ blank stares. “You are.”

  Jonathan started to laugh. “That is good. Did you put him up to this?” he asked Jacques.

  “You don’t remember me?” Number Two asked, looking around Jonathan at Amber who shook her head.

  “Well, that is awkward,” Jacques said.

  “I can prove it,” Number Two said. “I can prove you’re my parents.”

  Jonathan sighed again. “You are a very disturbed old man.”

  “I’m not really old,” Number Two said. “It was Zeus. He put an aging curse on me,” he explained. “He thought it would inspire me to bring you together all the faster.”

  “Zeus?” Jonathan shook his head.

  “Father, please listen to me,” the old man said.

  “Cupid . . . I am not your father,” Jacques said, his barely suppressed mirth evident.

  “It’s not funny,” Jonathan said to Jacques. “He is seriously sick.”

  “Are you going to deny that you’re an immortal?” Number Two said to his father.

  “Yes, yes, I am,” Jonathan said, noticing how Amber looked over at him speculatively. Damn! She’d already commented on the arrows bouncing off of him.

  “And that you’re as old as Methuselah?” the old man asked Amber who was taken aback for a moment.

  Jonathan glanced at Amber, pondering the information.

  “That is no way to speak to your mother,” Jacques said.

  “Stop encouraging this nutcase.” Jonathan looked over at Jacques before dropping the sash and folding his arms over his chest.

  “It’s true. She is the goddess of love,” Number Two said.

  Amber blanched, shaking her head.

  “She still doesn’t remember,” Number Two said then looked at Amber adding, “you took a potion from the god of the sea Mannánnon Mac Lir. The same concoction he gave his wife so that she would forget Cuchulain.” Number Two looked back at Jonathan. “Although, I really thought she’d remember me at least.” He glanced down at his hands as he spoke. “Look, I’m already younger just because you kissed her.”

  “You kissed?” Jacques grinned.

  “You’re not helping,” Jonathan said sternly. “This man needs help, not encouragement.”

  “No, what I need is for you two to be together.” Number Two pointed to Amber and Jonathan.

  “Be together?” Jacques questioned. “Oh! Be together.”

  “Kiss her again, and you’ll see,” Number Two said.

  “Couldn’t hurt in the way of an experiment,” Jacques said with a half shrug.

  “I’ve had enough of experiments tonight, thank you.” Jonathan practically growled.

  Jacques snapped his fingers. “I have it!” He looked at the old man. “How about you turn into the cherub again? This would prove it, oui?”

  “I would,” Number Two said with a sigh. “But I can’t.”

  “See!” Jonathan exclaimed. “He can’t because he isn’t.”

  “No,” Number Two said, “that isn’t why. I am out of energy.” He defended himself. “If I were in my own plane, then, yes, I could. But I used up all of my stored energy to escape.”

  “That’s a likely excuse,” Jonathan said.

  “That arrow is special!” Number Two said. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

  “What about the bow?” Jonathan asked him.

  “The bow I can produce at will,” Number Two said.

  “Well . . . I’m waiting,” Jonathan said.

  “When I have the energy.” Number Two sighed.

  “Just kiss the girl.” Jacques sighed in exasperation.

  Jonathan looked at Amber then back at the nutcase, seeing yet another flaw in his outlandish story. “Why would the Greek goddess of love go to Mannánnon the Celtic god of the sea and not Poseidon?”

  “That’s easy,” Number Two said. “Zeus’s brother refused to assist her. So she sought help elsewhere.”

  “Why would I—she want to forget?” It was Amber who asked it.

  Everyone looked at her.

  “Because your love had died,” Number Two said, pointing at Jonathan.

  “If I—he was immortal how did he die?” Jonathan asked, thinking of the way the arrow had pierced his skin.

  “That would be the work of Hephaistos,” Number Two said. “He forged my bow an
d arrow.”

  “This is getting confusing.” Jacques shook his head then looked at Number Two. “Who is Hephaistos?”

  “He’s the god of metalworking,” Number Two said. “He’s your half-brother,” he said, looking at Jonathan, “and Aphrodite’s husband.” He looked at all three. “You’ve really never heard of him?”

  “Are you married?” Jonathan looked at Amber. “I thought it was an old boyfriend after you.”

  “Before you rush to conclusions,” Number Two said. “They were granted a divorce after Zeus learned of his involvement with your death. He’s married to Kharis now.”

  “How many gods are there?” Jacques asked.

  “Well, at the last convention,” Number Two started, “there were—”

  “Stop!” Jonathan thrust his arms out in frustration. “This is crazy! I am not who you say I am,” he said, “and I am very much alive.”

  “Because of Hera’s pleading. You were their eldest son.”

  “This is ridiculous!” Jonathan said.

  “If you won’t kiss her, then let me have my arrow back,” Number Two said, “then I can change back to myself, if only briefly.”

  Jonathan glanced at Jacques who looked like he was considering it. “We’re not going to arm this lunatic,” he said in exasperation. He rubbed his neck and then looked over at Amber. “Would you mind for the sake of science?”

  “Yes!” Number Two shouted jubilantly. At Jonathan’s stern look he glanced toward Jacques who turned them both away from the couple.

  “Would you mind loosening your grip just a little?” Number Two asked, indicating the giant wedgie he’d received from his rough handling. “I’m not going anywhere. . . . cherubs’ honor.”

  “Ah—certainly,” Jacques said, loosening his grip, but not releasing him completely. “I thought Hermes was your father.” Jacques made small talk as they looked out over the front yard.

  “You know I get that a lot these days.” Cupid sighed. “As if I were merely a glorified messenger. . . . I am the progeny of the god of war and the goddess of love. . . . Hello . . . how else are you going to explain the bow and arrow?” He pretended to shoot an arrow off into the yard as Jacques listened. “It’s in the blood.”

  Jonathan reached out for Amber and slowly drew her towards him. “I’m sorry to drag you into this,” he looked into her golden eyes, feeling like he was drowning in honey, his movements as slow, “madman’s machinations.”

  “I want to know,” she said, stepping back into his arms and tilting her head back. She closed her eyes, releasing him from the spell of her hypnotic gaze.

  Jonathan looked down at the goddess in his arms and wondered briefly how he could have missed seeing it. She was definitely his idea of the goddess of love. He bent his head, claiming her lips again, only this time he deepened the kiss, tasting the sweet nectar of the gods themselves . . . ambrosia.

  Chapter 12

  “That is amazing, oui?” Jacques asked as the old man in front of him transformed into a younger one that looked like he was in his forties.

  Jonathan opened his eyes, reeling over the kiss, and blinked at the results of it.

  “See?” Number Two grinned. “I told you! I am Eros,” he said, happily looking at his reflection.

  “Eros?” Jacques asked. “I thought you were Cupid.”

  “Same thing.” Number Two shrugged. “But I am still so old,” he said, looking at his arms and hands.

  “Maybe it takes time,” Jacques said, “or more kissing, oui?”

  Jonathan looked down at Amber and smiled with a slight shrug before kissing her again quickly. He looked back at Number Two. This time he witnessed the transformation. “That is amazing.”

  “One more time should do it,” Cupid said.

  This time Jonathan kissed Amber for over a minute.

  “Ahem,” Jacques said, “we may have an infant on our hands if you keep that up . . . too late!”

  Jonathan turned back and saw a cherub floating in the air.

  He waved, spun in the air, proudly produced and bow, and then changed into a teenager again.

  “Yes!” Eros said. “I’m back.”

  “You were the one in the library, the one doing the report on Aphrodite,” Amber said as she stared at him in wonder. “And later you walked right by me after the attack.”

  “It wasn’t an attack really,” Eros said. “I’m sorry I alarmed you.” He shot a pretend arrow into the air again. “It’s my job . . . what I do.”

  “Let’s take this back inside, shall we?” Jonathan invited everyone in off the porch. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the street before closing the door.

  ~*~

  Joseph Marciano, aka the fish, slowly lowered his binoculars with a smile. “That was quite the show.”

  “I’ve seen better,” Patricia said beside him as she thumbed through the pages of Agnes’s diary to the back cover.

  “Tell me everything you know about these people.” His eyes burned brightly as he watched her.

  “Weirdos and side-show freaks mostly,” she said. “I am far more interested in this.” She took her nail file and slipped it around the edge of the lining like a letter opener.

  “What is it?” Joe asked.

  “My redemption.” She smiled as she held up the gold coin.

  ~*~

  “Where is my arrow?” Eros asked.

  “Not so fast,” Jonathan said. “I have a few questions I’d like answers to first.”

  “Okay, shoot,” Eros joked. “Get it . . . ? I’m Cupid,” he said, pretending to shoot an arrow again.

  “Yeah, cute,” Jonathan said in a voice that was not so adoring. “Sit.” He pointed to the chair in the living room. “Why did you ransack your mother’s—Amber’s room?” Jonathan folded his arms over his chest again.

  “I didn’t,” Eros denied.

  “Wait right here,” Jonathan said to the young man before turning to Jacques. “Don’t let him go.”

  “I could get away if I wanted,” Eros said smugly as Jacques stood in the archway.

  “You think so,” Jacques said. “I think not.”

  “I can fly like a bird,” Eros boasted.

  “Then I would definitely be your worst nightmare.” Jacques grinned. “Besides, you’re forgetting the ease with which I caught you last time, oui?”

  “But I was an old man then,” Eros said. “Now I’m much faster.”

  “Now you’re just tempting me.” Jacques looked at him and smiled.

  Eros sat back sullenly until Amber took a seat on the chair near him. “Do you remember me yet?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry.” Amber shook her head as Jonathan came back into the room with a laptop and sat down on the sofa between them. Pushing a few buttons, he pulled up a photo of a man. “Do you know this man?” he asked Eros.

  “No, but I have seen him around recently.”

  “Where?”

  “He was in a van parked down the street earlier tonight.”

  Jonathan looked out toward the street. “Then we can assume he knows where you are,” he said, looking at Amber. He turned the screen towards her next. “Do you recognize him?”

  “He does look familiar,” Amber said. “My mind is fuzzy.”

  “It’s from the potion.” Eros sighed. “It may never wear off.”

  “Amber, I need you to tell us everything you do remember,” Jonathan said.

  She nodded, looking into his face, the face of the man that had haunted her dreams since she could remember. He had been a fantasy, or so she had thought until she saw him that first night. Then, the odd feelings of having been with him before kept returning.

  Amber looked at the two faces that watched her earnestly and wanted to cry. How could I have forgotten them, my own son and his father?

  “Tell me about this,” Jonathan said, clicking another button. A photo of her illuminated the screen.

  “You knew?” she asked.

  “I lifted the prints from yo
ur room and ran them,” Jonathan said. “Do you remember this life?”

  Amber nodded. “I came over to this country as an immigrant, like many in the 1920s. I went to work in a factory. At first it was easy to hide, but eventually there came a time when I needed a new identity, and creating one became harder, what with social security numbers and finger prints.”

  “What happened?” Jonathan coaxed.

  “I had to turn to the criminal world for help.” Amber sighed. “Unfortunately, those same people became curious about me.”

  “Curious how?”

  “They wanted the secret to my immortality,” Amber said.

  “It happens,” Eros said. “Just look at Genghis Khan, he drank an elixir of mercury. Alexander the Great sought it as well, and Nero . . . of course, he was crazy to begin with.”

  Jonathan looked back to Amber, encouraging her to continue.

  “Shortly after I became Amelia Jones they came for me. I was taken to a medical facility.” Her face took on a haunted expression as she related the tale. “I was locked in a padded cell and only allowed out when they needed my blood or to run another test.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jonathan said. More than anything he wanted to protect her, to take away her pain and give it to the people who had done this.

  “It was years before the opportunity to escape came,” Amber said. “When I left, I changed my looks and tried to remain one step ahead of them.”

  “Do you know who is behind it?” Jonathan asked. “A name?”

  “My guess is Hera,” Eros said.

  Jonathan looked over at him expectantly. “Who is Hera?”

  “Your mother,” Eros said.

  “My mother,” Jonathan said, “is Mavis Peterson, and at this moment she is next door in bed asleep.”

  “If you believe that,” Eros said, “then how do you explain me?”

  “I’ve seen a lot of strange stuff, kid. It doesn’t mean I’m your father.”

  “You were reborn, but your spirit—your essence is my father,” Eros said.

  “Why do you think it is this Hera? What happened between her and Amber?” Jonathan asked.

  “Ever since the golden apple incident things have been ugly between them,” Eros explained. “But after your death it became really bad.”

  “What golden apple?” Jacques asked from his place by the entry.