by Amanda Heger
“I’ll be back in thirty minutes. If you finish before then, just yell for one of us.” Oliver shoved a thin booklet in front of her. “Write your answers in the blank at the bottom of each question. Write legibly. When that’s done, we’ll see if you qualify for the next part of the exam.”
He fished a timer out of his jacket, pressed a button, and shut the door behind him.
Hands shaking, Eliza flipped over the packet. Bold, black instructions on the front page blurred in front of her. Each question became someone she loved—her parents, her brother, Jake. All of them staring up at her, depending on her—Eliza Herman, world’s worst Cupid.
Fuck. Why was she thinking about Jake so much right now?
Thinking about her parents? Sure. She loved them and didn’t want to let them down.
Elijah? She’d loved him since they were in the womb, and he was depending on her now more than ever.
But Jake… Did she love Jake? Like, capital-L Love him?
The pencil slid from her sweaty fingers, and the world spun as she lunged after it. Her chair tilted, and she launched straight out of it. Her tailbone hit the tile with a smack. Within seconds, Oliver stood in front of her.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, sorry.” She scrambled back to her seat. “I just fell.”
He gave her a skeptical look, then disappeared once again.
Eliza closed her eyes and focused on the feel of the desk beneath her hands. Of course she didn’t Love Jake. Love wasn’t real. Her panic-addled brain was just trying to trick her into focusing on anything but the task in front of her.
Namely, the test. She forced open her eyes and stared at the pages in front of her. The written part should be easy. She’d read the books Jake had given her from front to back and then back to front. He’d quizzed her, and she’d passed with flying colors—even with her brain half-occupied by thoughts of their kiss.
And he believed in her.
It was high time she started to believe in herself too. Okay, Herman, let’s do this.
Nineteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, Eliza put her pencil down. “I’m done,” she called out.
Agent Oliver bumbled into the room, grabbed her booklet, and disappeared again. Eliza settled in to wait. Last time, this part—the grading—had crawled by. She’d felt like she’d lived an entire lifetime in that tiny room, just waiting—
Oliver returned and slapped the booklet on her desk. “You passed.”
She stared up at his dull-eyed face, brain uncomprehending. “I did?”
“Come on. Weapons next.”
Holy Hades, she’d done it.
Eliza stuffed the booklet into her back pocket and scrambled to follow Oliver down a narrow hall. The back of the building smelled overly sterile, like someone had come through and doused everything with hand sanitizer. It burned her nostrils, and she forced herself to breathe through her mouth.
“What’s wrong? You’re not hyperventilating on me, are you? The last kid passed out, and we had to call the paramedics.”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Whatever you say.” He pushed the back door open and motioned to an empty parking lot. “This way.”
Eliza realized why she’d been overwhelmed with the smell of cleaning products inside. Along the side of the building, two ten-foot tables sat side by side, their surfaces covered with freshly sanitized weapons. In the center of the lot, a clump of civilians stood among the three agents she’d seen earlier.
“Where are the dummies?” Eliza asked.
“You’re looking at ’em.” Oliver pointed to the group. The sun made their shadows long, and a few had large pit stains—like they’d been waiting for her for days.
“Those are people. Not dummies. The last time I took this test, there were dummies.”
“In borderline cases, we have the authority to make some changes, including but not limited to adjusting testing scenarios. Now, would you like to get started, or would you like to debate the merits of using dummies versus humans for another ten minutes?”
Bile raked its way up her throat. “Let’s get started.”
Oliver blew a whistle, and the crowd scattered. The agents manned the weapons table, while everyone else stood in groups of threes and fours on X’s chalked onto the blacktop. “Ms. Herman, there is one weapon for each of these groups. You will approach group one. You will discuss their predilections and preferences. You will return to the weapons table and choose which two people in the group you will enchant. You will then perform said enchantment before three minutes per group have elapsed. Should you enchant anyone other than the designated couple, you will be automatically disqualified. Questions?” Before she could fit a word in, he continued, “No? Great. Let’s begin.” He pulled the timer from his pocket, pressed Start, and set it on the table.
For a full ten seconds, Eliza stood in the setting sun, sweating and confused. How? What? Why? Who were all these people who’d volunteered to be test subjects for her exam? Did they know what they were getting into? Had the Department told them they were going to be in the not-so-capable hands of Eliza Herman, World’s Worst Cupid (trademark, patent pending)?
She gave them all a once-over. None of them looked terrified enough to understand what they’d volunteered to do. Time to turn this ship around and head back home.
“Eliza. Eliza!”
She whipped around at the sound of Jake’s voice. He stood in the far corner of the lot in the shade, looking like her personal (and exceptionally handsome) cheerleader.
She jogged over to where he stood. “What are you doing?” she whispered, unsure whether to laugh or cry.
His face went serious before it slipped into a grin. “I wanted to see you one more time before you become an officially licensed Cupid with the state of California. In case, you know, you become unrecognizable once you ace the test.”
“I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“You’re going to crush this test, Eliza. I know it.”
Agent Oliver approached, looking more annoyed than ever.
“Mr. Sanders, I asked you to wait in the lobby,” he said. “Please don’t make me file a complaint against you. The paperwork is astounding.”
“My apologies, sir.” Jake gave small wave before heading toward the door.
“Time is ticking, Ms. Herman,” Oliver called out.
Eliza took a deep breath. She might have lost some time due to Jake’s interruption, but his presence had steadied her nerves. Time to show this exam who’s boss. She moved toward the first group of volunteers. This one was easy. Two adults and a child. Enchanting anyone under the age of eighteen was strictly forbidden. “Hi,” she said to the kid. “I’m Eliza.”
He ducked behind his hands. “I’m Adam.”
“Adam, do you know these people?” She gestured toward the adults.
“These are my mommies.”
“Well, I’m going to help them love each other even more than they do now. Is that okay with you?”
He nodded, and the women smiled at her softly.
She sprinted to the table, grabbed the weapon labeled with the number one—a lancing device—and ran back. The timer ticked away her remaining minute. But as soon as she returned to her first victims, she realized she’d left the spray bottle of sanitizer behind on the table. Oliver would definitely knock points off her score if she didn’t clean the device after the first woman’s finger stick.
Damn it. She’d wasted too much time in the beginning with her freak-out. Her brain flashed forward to telling her father she’d failed the test in the first round of weaponry. She’d made it further as a teenager.
“Finger, please?” Eliza said to the first woman.
She held out her index finger, and Eliza pointed her face to her partner. “Look straight ahead, please. Just a
quick stick, and we’re done.”
Eliza stuck the woman’s finger, drawing a bright-red dot of blood. In profile, she saw the woman’s face light up. Perfect. Now she just had to find an impromptu weapon provided by woman number two before all her time disappeared. Eliza could almost hear it ticking in the back of her mind. She gave the second woman a quick once-over. Bingo.
“Ma’am, could I see your earring for a moment?” she asked.
The woman gave her a confused look but handed over the jewelry. Eliza pointed her in the right direction and poked her bare shoulder with the earring post. Bull’s-eye. She dropped the earring into the woman’s palm and took off for the table, where Oliver waited with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Ms. Herman, care to explain your choices?”
She struggled to catch her breath as she spoke. “The who was simple. Section 06.25 of the Code of Cupid Regulations prohibits enchantment of anyone under the age of eighteen.”
“And the weapon? You were instructed to use the weapon provided.”
“I did use the weapon on person number one. However, since I wasn’t able to properly sanitize it between enchantments, I chose to use a weapon provided by client number two. I believe this would be acceptable under section 304, Sanitation and Sterilization.”
He looked at her for a long moment without saying a word. Finally, he pursed his lips and motioned for her to move on to group two.
Eliza flew through the next three groups, even with each one becoming progressively harder. Group two involved two pairs of exes, a baton, and a lot of wishful thinking. Group three: a professor, two of his students, and a pocketknife. Luckily, it was the students who were meant to be—at least for the next moon cycle. Group four: retirees and nurses from Gold Lea Assisted Living, an oxygen tank, and a warning about doubling up on enchantments and Viagra.
Then she arrived at group five. Her final test involved a man and a woman Eliza didn’t recognize. And another man she almost recognized but couldn’t quite place. Maybe she’d seen him at Red Clover? Or at the gym? Or maybe… Realization struck hard and fast, knocking her off her game.
She did recognize him, because he was Jonathan Ellis, her childhood nemesis. Please don’t recognize me. Please don’t recognize me.
“Hi, Eliza.” He had the same smirk he’d had as a kid. She wanted to smack it right off his face. But of course, the Department would probably fail her if she did.
“Jonathan.”
“This girl hit me upside the head with a baseball bat when I was eight,” he said to the people beside him. “Knocked out two of my teeth, and my shoulder’s been jacked up ever since. Probably could have played MLB ball, but my whole future was ruined.”
“What? No, I didn’t. Well, not the tooth thing. And your shoulder was fine.”
“You hit him with a baseball bat?” The man balked.
Jonathan pointed to his front teeth. “Yeah, both of these are veneers. Worst pain I’ve ever experienced. There was so much blood, I actually passed out. Not sure if it was from shock or what, but it was bad. Really bad.”
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered. “None of this is true.”
“Just thought these two should know what they’re getting into,” he yelled over his shoulder. Then quietly to her, “They told me what to say—the Department, I mean. I’m supposed to make you sound really scary.”
“Why would you tell me that?” Eliza asked.
“Because I need a favor, and now you owe me one. Two favors, if you count the whole baseball bat thing from when we were kids. Can we talk after this?”
“No. We can’t.” She couldn’t devote one more second to whatever Jonathan Ellis needed from her. She turned to the man and woman standing beside him. Their fingers had already intertwined—probably out of fear—but Eliza knew they had to be the choice. “Are you two interested in enchantment?” she asked.
They stared at her with terror in their eyes. Finally, the woman gave the smallest nod.
“Great.” She adjusted their bodies so they were holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. “Stay here, just like this, and I’ll get things started.”
She sprinted back to the table and grabbed her final assigned weapon: the bow and two arrows.
I can do this. I can do this. She nocked the first arrow and took her stance. Squared feet, grip tight but not too—
“Wait! Stop!” the woman cried out. She looked straight at Eliza. “What are you doing? You’re going to kill us. You heard what that man said, Bobby. It was the worst pain of his entire life.”
“Yeah, I don’t know about this,” the man said. “What if there’s a lot of blood?”
Eliza put down the arrow, sprinted back to the X and offered the couple her kindest smile. “These are enchantment arrows,” she explained. “There might be a small amount of blood, but they’re designed to barely pierce the skin. With a skilled archer, you shouldn’t feel much of anything.”
“Are you a skilled archer?” the man asked.
“I’m getting there,” she said.
“So, no?”
“I can’t promise there won’t be any pain.”
The man pushed past Eliza and headed toward the group of agents. “No, thank you. I’d like to withdraw my consent.”
Eliza’s shoulders sagged. She couldn’t exactly force an enchantment on the man, no matter how badly she wanted her license. “Fine.”
She walked away from the group of test subjects, but she wasn’t giving up without a fight. “Agent Oliver. I’d like to request a new test group. My current group has withdrawn their consent to—”
Beep. Beep. Beeeeeep.
That was it. She’d run out of time, and she hadn’t shot a single arrow. She hadn’t faced down her biggest weaponry challenge, and her career had ended before it really began. Jake had put in all those hours to help her for nothing. Her father had gotten his hopes up, and now she had to go home to tear them into tiny shards.
Eliza raked a hand through her ponytail and stared at the blue sky. Maybe if she didn’t meet anyone’s eye, her tears wouldn’t fall. But sooner or later, she’d have to look in the mirror and face the person she’d disappointed most of all.
“Congratulations, Ms. Herman,” Oliver said. “You’re a fully licensed Cupid.”
She did a double take. “I passed? How?”
“The final test was designed to see if you would put your own interests above those of clients who’d had a change of heart.” He tore a piece of paper from the clipboard in his hands and handed it to her. “Take this to the front, and Agent Smith will process you.”
Eliza barely heard him. She couldn’t stop staring at the paper. This was it: her official license. Her official show-at-Hallmark-for-an-additional-fifteen-percent-off license. She couldn’t wait to pick it up.
But first, she had one very important thing to do.
Chapter 15
Calif. CCR § 1024.070. The Department shall charge a replacement fee of thirty-five dollars for each lost, stolen, or damaged Cupiding license.
Eliza flung open the door to the Department lobby. If this were a movie version of her life, triumphant music—maybe “We Are the Champions”—would have been booming as she came through the doors in dramatic slow motion. But this was Eliza’s real life, so she tripped and fell flat on her face.
Well, not quite on her face. She’d thrown her arms out and landed on her right elbow. Painful tingles shot up and down her arm. She rubbed it out, thanking the gods that she couldn’t enchant herself. If that were possible, she’d be an even bigger mess.
A hand closed on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
She stopped rubbing her elbow and looked into warmest, softest brown-and-gold eyes she’d ever seen. The exact pair she’d been on her way to find.
“I passed,” she said to Jake.
His entire body lit up. “I knew you would.”
And then she was wrapped in his arms. Later, Eliza wouldn’t be able to remember who’d initiated that embrace. Was it Jake, who’d stepped out of his safe zone to check on her post-fall? Or was it her, leaning into him out of sheer joy and relief?
In that moment, Eliza didn’t care. Not even a little.
That incessant voice in the back of her mind, the one that always reminded her this road led to madness, stayed silent. It was just her, Jake, and the roughness of his five-o’clock shadow against her forehead.
That and the thumping in her chest. A thumping that seemed to propel her to press harder against him. It was really too bad all this would be over in less than twelve hours.
“Ahem.”
They stumbled apart at the unfamiliar voice.
Eliza’s cheeks nearly burst into flames as she stood in front of one of the agents who’d observed her test. “Your new license,” the agent said, holding out a white rectangle. “Don’t lose it, or there’s a thirty-five-dollar replacement fee.”
“There must be a mistake. I haven’t gotten my photo taken.”
“We use the photo from your temporary identification.” The agent gave her a half-smile. “No need to waste resources on a new photo after just a month.”
Eliza took the license. Sure enough, there she was in all her eyelids-half-open glory. She tucked it into her pocket and added the photo to the list of things that didn’t matter anymore. She took Jake by the hand, too giddy to care about “the rules.”
“Let’s go celebrate.”
* * *
Thursday nights at the Agora were an even madder house than the grocery store on a Monday. A few months ago, Eliza would have pulled into the crowded parking lot and pulled right back out. But now she had a license. She belonged.
She handed the ever-present and ever-grumpy Mrs. Washmoore her fancy new ID and stepped inside with Jake beside her. They passed the Poseidon fountain and veered left, beyond a storefront advertising BOGO Ambrosia and a series of Cosmic Council offices.
