Cupid’s Match

Cupid looks over his shoulder at me. “I know, I know. Past girlfriend meeting the future girlfriend—ever the uncomfortable situation.”

“I’m not your future girlfriend.” I direct an accusing glare at Cal. “You said cupids can’t do the whole love thing.”

“Cupids can’t be matched. It is forbidden for us to fall in love—”

“Selena wasn’t my Match,” Cupid interrupts, “but being immortal can get a little tedious if you don’t let yourself have a bit of fun every now and again.” He throws a pointed look at Cal. “Though some of us choose not to.”

“You said she won’t be pleased to see you?” I ask as Cal studiously ignores Cupid’s dig. “Are we in danger?”

Cupid pulls a face. “You saw the power of the sirens back in the other room, you felt it yourself. It made you see things that weren’t really there, made you feel things that were out of your control. Well, Selena can do that, and more. Now, imagine you’ve upset her and she wants to wage full-scaled vengeance from hell against you . . .” He shudders and Cal looks marginally alarmed.

“Just how bad was the breakup?” Cal asks sharply. “Is it really a good idea for Lila to be here?”

Cupid looks at us thoughtfully. “Well, there was that time that Selena made that girl—” He stops talking then waves his hand dismissively. “She’ll be fine. Maybe best not to mention Lila’s my Match, though.”

Cal looks exasperated. He touches my arm, clearly ready to take me back out, but Cupid gives a small shake of the head.

“The Arrows could be out there, Brother. We need Selena on our side if we’re to protect Lila. She’s safer here with us.”

Our guide leads us along a walkway that arches over a steaming indoor pool. I feel a pang in my heart as I look down at the water. It makes me think of Charlie and James; we used to hang out together in James’s parents’ hot tub all the time. I long for those days again—the normal days: before the Arrows, before James’s betrayal, before Cupid’s wild ocean-like eyes. I long for James’s stability, Charlie’s laugh, mocktails in the Love Shack, and eating hot dogs by the beach.

But I push the feelings away. Those days are over. Now I’m being hunted down by a group of crazed cupids, protected by two immortal brothers, and on my way to meet a siren crime lord who might be able to help save me.

We turn a corner, and suddenly we’re in a lagoon-slash-

cabaret bar. Hazy figures in elaborate swimwear perch on stools at tables just above the water level, and dark rocks loom on each side. Up above I can see the moon through a skylight.

“This way,” our guide says, leading us to a VIP area cordoned off by black rope. There is a picnic blanket laid out by the pool and covered with an array food. Whoever Selena is, she’s not here yet.

The man who was leading us bows slightly and disappears.

“Well . . . sit down,” Cupid says, dropping to the ground and grabbing a chunk of bread from a basket.

Hesitantly, I do as he says, then cast a glance at Cal, whose distaste is clearly etched on the angles on his face.

“I don’t like this,” he says.

Cupid rolls his eyes. “Of course you don’t,” he says, between mouthfuls. “You don’t like anything. But just sit down, will you, Brother? You’re making me nervous.”

Instead of answering, Cal looks toward the lagoon. I see the flash of uncertainty cross Cupid’s face.

“Oh God, there she is,” he mutters.

A woman is watching us, half submerged in the water. The steam twists and turns around her torso as though she is wearing the mist itself. Cupid swallows, getting rid of both the bread and any hint of his previous joviality.

As the siren moves toward us, I realize she may be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Water cascades down her flawless black skin, though it doesn’t seem to touch the dark, flowing dress that skims her legs as she walks up the stone steps of the lagoon. Her eyes flash with the brightness of stars.

Cupid jumps to his feet. “Look, Selena,” he begins, raising his hands in surrender. “You have every reason to be upset . . .”

Selena arches a perfectly formed eyebrow.

“Cupid, honey? Get over yourself.”

Then she casts her gaze at me and smiles.

“I’m Selena,” she says. “You must be the Match.”