Cupid’s Match

Cupid walks up to the overturned armchair, pushes it back on its legs, and sits down. He looks up at Charlie, his eyes narrowed.

“Why didn’t they take you?”

The flickering light from the fireplace casts threatening shadows across his hard jawline. Cal takes a step forward, placing himself between Charlie and me, his fists clenched by his side.

“I would like to know the answer to that too,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “I . . . I don’t know. They untied me, then said they’d be in touch.”

“She’s lying,” says Cal. “She knows where Crystal is.”

Suddenly he lunges toward her, but Cupid grabs his brother’s arm. Although alarmed, Charlie doesn’t flinch. I can see some of my old friend in her stubborn expression, but there’s a strange new power there too; a distance. I want desperately to believe we can bring her back again.

“Let’s all calm down,” I say. “If Charlie was part of this, surely she wouldn’t have stayed. Wouldn’t she have got out of here if she was helping the Arrows?”

As Charlie looks at me, her face hardens. For a moment, we stare at each other and then she flies at me, wrapping her hands around my neck and ramming me into the wall. Cupid jumps to his feet, but not before I headbutt her and tackle her to the ground.

As I do, it releases some hidden emotion in me, something lurking since I saw her kiss my boyfriend at the party. I pin her arms against the maroon rug as she fights me, her dark eyes flashing.

We stare at each other, breathing hard, ragged breaths. And then the anger seeps away, replaced by sadness at her mask of hatred.

“Charlie, stop it! Just stop it!”

Suddenly, the tension leaves her body. I think maybe she’s listening to me, that I’ve reached her somehow, but then I follow her gaze. Cal has a black arrow pointed her throat.

Cupid crouches down, and I relax my hold on her.

“Listen, Charlie,” he says, speaking slowly, as though explaining something to a child, “you must be feeling confused right now, angry too. But the Arrows are not the good guys. They’re the ones who did this to you. And they’re the ones who have taken Crystal. Now, we’re going to get her back, but we need your help to do it.”

She narrows her eyes as she focuses on him; her breathing is fast and shallow. “You can’t be matched.”

Cupid shakes his head. “They made it up, Charlie. They’ve been trying to kill me for years. And now they’re trying to get Lila, too, because they know that hurting her will hurt me.” He looks at me, his face serious. “I’ve been looking for my Match for a long time.”

I feel trapped in his gaze for a moment, but the words he is saying . . . I know they’re not true. The Arrows want to kill me because us breaking some corporate rule will force a change in leadership. But I still don’t understand why that’s such a bad thing. Or why Cupid seems to want it to happen.

“That’s what Crystal said too,” says Charlie. She looks at me, the hate behind her eyes slowly dying. “I just . . . I feel like . . .”

“Brother, some help here,” says Cupid, clicking his fingers impatiently at Cal, who, though still holding the arrow, has a glazed look. He blinks, then drags his gaze toward Charlie.

“You feel like your blood is boiling in your veins,” Cal says, “like you need to attack—to protect the cupids, to stop what the Arrows have told you will come to pass. That’s natural for a new cupid. But we’re not your enemy. Neither is Lila. In the next twenty-

four hours or so you’ll feel yourself again.”

Cupid wiggles his eyebrows. “Only cupid-ier.”

She looks warily at the black arrow then at the three of us.

“Why did you stay here and wait for us?” I ask suddenly. “If you really hate me this much?”

“Crystal’s my friend,” she says. “Before I went to camp we hung out a bit while she was working at the diner.”

While you were hanging around my boyfriend, I find myself thinking.

“And I don’t hate you,” she adds, holding my gaze. “What I did—hating you didn’t come into it.”

Cupid nods and gives what he clearly thinks is an encouraging smile. “Well, that’s a start. Why don’t you take a seat and tell us what happened?”

Neither of us moves for a moment; we are frozen in the firelight, me straddling Charlie on the ground. Then she gives a small nod. I take a breath then slowly stand up.

Cupid looks at me and I see the question in his eyes: Are you okay?

I nod, though my head is throbbing from where I just smacked it into Charlie’s face. I step over a broken stone ornament of two figures riding a wolf, and a tipped-over trinket box marked by an engraved P before taking a seat on one of Cupid’s leather couches.

Cupid pulls Charlie to her feet.

“We don’t need to tie you up again, do we?” Cupid asks.

Charlie gives him a withering look but shakes her head.

“Know that to try anything else like the stunt you just pulled on Lila would be very . . . unwise.”

He nods at the armchair, and Charlie tentatively sits down. The brothers take a seat on either side of me, Cupid sinking back into the cushions while Cal perches on the edge, spine straight and stiff. He twirls the black arrow vacantly with his long fingers, his eyes focused on the smear of blood on the wall.

“Cal,” I say sharply, hoping to snap him out of it.

“I should have told her,” he mutters, staring at his feet. “I should have told Crystal we were looking for the Finis.”

“You couldn’t have known, Brother,” Cupid says, his tone unusually gentle. Then he looks at Charlie. “Now, I could use a Capax arrow on you, but I imagine you’ve had enough of being treated like a human pincushion. If at any point I think you’re lying, though . . .”

“Okay, I get it,” Charlie says. “Now, do you want me to tell you what I know or not? Because I think they’re going to hurt Crystal, and we need to get her back.”

Cupid nods. “Go ahead.”

“We were talking when Crystal had me tied up—thanks a bunch for that, by the way . . .”

“No problem,” Cupid says.

“And there was a noise outside. Crystal went to check it out. When she ran back in, she looked scared and shut the door. Then she looked at me and said something . . . weird.”

Cal leans forward, suddenly alert. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘I wasn’t always a receptionist.’”

“Does that mean anything to you?” I ask Cal.

He shakes his head, frowning. “I don’t think so,” he says quietly. He looks back to Charlie. “Did she say anything else?”

Charlie shakes her head. “Three people burst through the door—two girls and a guy. One of them grabbed Crystal and she fought him. She threw him into the wall.”

Charlie gestures at the streak of blood with her head and I see a half smile appear on Cal’s face; he seems satisfied that she at least caused some damage to her kidnappers.

“I thought they would attack me, too,” Charlie continues, “but they ignored me. There was a struggle and they dragged her out of the room. Then one of them cut through the rope binding my hands together. She told me to get out of here, and that she’d be in touch when she needed me. She said they had an assignment for me.”

“What assignment?” Cal asks sharply.

Charlie pauses, an internal struggle evident on her heart-shaped face. “I think they expect me to bring Lila to them at some point, on their orders.”

I cast a look at Cupid, who’s suddenly wearing a triumphant smile.

“Charlie?” he says. “Would you like a coffee?”

Charlie looks surprised, but she nods. “Sure.”

“Lila, Cal—come help.”

He gets up and walks out of the room. Cal and I share a look then follow him into the kitchen.

“Subtle . . .” I say.

Cupid shrugs. “Subtlety has never been my strong suit.”

As he leans over the breakfast bar, his arms on the counter, I find myself staring at his shoulder muscles. He catches me looking.

“So,” I say, before he can make any kind of remark, “you think that the Arrows are going to contact Charlie?”

“Yes. And we can use her to lead us to Crystal. We’ll just need to keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t revert back to her murderous tendencies.”

“No way,” Charlie says from the doorway. “I’m going home. I’ve had a really bad day.”

Cupid shakes his head. “Sorry, Charlie. It’s not safe, and I can’t risk you doing anything stupid.” He turns to me. “You, too, Lila,” he says. “The Matchmaking Service has shown its true colors, the Arrows are out there, and Selena tried to harm you. You’re not going home either.”

“Fine by me,” I say—though my stomach clenches at the thought of spending the night with Cupid. “Definitely not keen to have my house turned into some mythological battleground.”

“Oh God,” says Charlie. “My parents! My living room! The Arrows jumped through the window.”

“Yeah, they like to make an entrance,” says Cupid. “But Crystal made a few calls when we first got here. It’ll be sorted by now.”

Before Charlie can say anything else, Cal slams his hand against the breakfast bar. “I’m not happy with waiting for the Arrows to get in touch.”

Cupid shrugs and makes his way over to the coffee machine. “What choice do we have?” he says. “Neither of us can get into the Matchmaking Service now. We’re both wanted men.”

Cal scowls. “You’re hardly wanted.”