Cupid’s Match

The screen shows a block of armed cupids marching across the grounds, their bows raised. My mouth dry, I spin around to study the barred window. As the steady mass of white suits gets closer, the stomping of feet begins to resound around the study.

“Oh my God,” I repeat.

“Guys,” says Charlie, still staring at the monitors. “There’s more—they’re surrounding the house.”

The three of us crowd behind her. Similar blocks of agents have appeared on another two of the screens. As they reach the grounds they begin to disperse, forming a perfect circle around the building.

“Well, this is it,” Cupid says.

He throws a sideways look at Cal, who is still staring at the screens as, outside, one of the cupids at the front of the ranks produces a megaphone from under his jacket.

“On the orders of Venus, you are under arrest! You are surrounded. Please exit the building with your hands raised above your heads.”

I look at the two brothers. “Now what? They can’t get in, can they?”

Cupid shakes his head and falls back into the leather recliner.

“Now we wait”—he looks at me darkly—“for as long as we can.”

Around an hour passes. It’s excruciating. The agents from the Matchmaking Service still surround the building, and at regular intervals the booming voice calls for us to go outside. Each time it does, my whole being fills with dread. Cupid, however, seems unperturbed. He continues to lean back in the recliner, his eyes closed.

Charlie and I have found a way to share the office chair, and stare at the screens. My stomach is turning anxiously. Across the study, Cal paces back and forth with his bow slung over his shoulder.

“Will you desist, Brother,” Cupid says after a while, his eyes still closed. “You’re making me nervous.”

After a few more laps of the room Cal walks to the exit.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

Cal looks at me. “None of your concern.”

As he disappears into the hallway, I share a look with Charlie, who shrugs.

“The longer you take the worse it will be for you!” booms the voice from outside.

I study the monitors. I don’t see how we can get out of this.

After a few minutes Cupid sighs and gets up out of the chair. “Come on, let’s go make a coffee or something. This is just depressing.”

I hesitate, reluctant to go downstairs.

“It’s safe,” he says. “They can’t get in unless the bars are lifted. And the only place that the bars can be controlled from is in here.”

I share another look with Charlie, who shrugs again. “I wouldn’t say no to a coffee,” she says.

The three of us head down to the kitchen, where I see Cupid wasn’t lying—large bars cover the glass entryway. Cal is peering out through them, his phone pressed to his ear. On hearing us enter, he hurriedly stuffs it into his pocket.

Cupid frowns. “Calling someone?”

Cal turns around slowly to face his brother. “Crystal.” He looks uncomfortable for a moment, his eyes not quite meeting Cupid’s. Then he stalks past us.

“You don’t want to stay down here for a coffee, Cal?” Cupid says, his tone challenging—cold. I look between the pair of them, wondering if I’m missing something.

“Someone needs to watch what’s going on outside,” Cal says, his voice flat.

Cupid watches his brother leave with reproach. Then he wanders over to fiddle with the coffee machine.

“What’s up with him?” I ask after a few moments of tense silence.

Cupid hands us two coffees. “I think my brother is about to betray us.”

“What? What do you mean?”

He looks at me steadily. “I don’t think he was on the phone to Crystal. I think he’s just negotiated himself a deal.”

“No,” I say. “No. No way.”

Cupid takes a sip of the dark liquid and leans back against the counter. “Wait for it.”

A whirring sound kicks up a few seconds later. I spin around to see the bars over the windows slowly rising. The coffee mug falls from my hand and shatters, the black liquid splattering the white floor. I feel sick.

Cupid looks at us. “Upstairs, now.”

When we reach the study, Cal is standing in front of the window, backlit by the warming light from outside. The bottoms of the bars disappear upward.

There’s no doubt about it.

He did it. He betrayed us.

“How could you?” I screech as the sound of marching intensifies; they’re coming. I run forward to hit Cal but Cupid grasps my arm firmly and holds me back.

“I bet you’ve been waiting for this moment, haven’t you?” he says coldly. “The moment when you could turn me in and return to Her good graces.”

Cal glares back at him. “I tried to help you. I tried to get you to leave town. I tried to protect your Match.”

“Look at her!” roars Cupid. “Say her name!”

Cal doesn’t look at me. “You broke the law and you need to be punished,” he says, dispassionate.

“Does Lila need to be punished?” asks Cupid. “Does Charlie?”

“There will be a fair trial.”

“Like hell there will be a fair trial.”

I’ve never seen Cupid look this angry before. He lets me go and races toward Cal, grabbing him and slamming him into the opposite wall. They face each other—almost nose to nose—anger burning on both of their faces.

Then the door to the study bursts open.

Cupid throws a punch at Cal’s face, connecting hard and knocking Cal to the floor just as the agents begin to spill into the room. Although Cupid grabs his bow and begins shooting arrows, the agents are too fast and too close. Five of them grab his arms and thrust him to his knees, then flat on the ground. One grabs him by the hair and forces his gaze to me.

“Commander,” shouts one gruffly, “we’ve got them.”

The agents by the doorway part as someone walks through. He is tall and slender with dark hair and cold eyes. His black bow is larger and more elaborate than those of the other agents, and I notice a V broach pinned to his white jacket.

“Cal,” he says, “take the girl.”

Cal has regained his feet and now looks at me for the first time since his betrayal.

“Cal,” I whisper, “please.”

“Take the girl,” repeats the Commander coldly. “If you want to come back to the service, if you want your crimes to be excused, take the girl.”

After only a brief pause, Cal moves toward me. Hands shaking, I grab an arrow from my quiver and hold it in front of me, my back still pressed against the window. I note the arrow’s pink tip: the Capax, the truth arrow. I curse myself. It’s not the one I need.

“Cal,” Cupid warns, his neck still arched back. He’s struggling against the agents holding him but they force him to watch as Cal gets closer. “Get away from her! Get away from her!” he says, starting to thrash.

“Cal,” I say, “please don’t do this.”

Cal ignores us, his face full of disdain. I keep the arrow extended, and then, slowly he walks right into it—letting it pierce his stomach. His eyes widen as it does. Pain covers his face as it crumbles to ash in my shaking fingers.

“Did you ever care for me?” I ask. He’s been hit by the Capax. He has to tell the truth.

He stares at me, uncertainty flashing across his expression before his face hardens once more.

“No.”

He twists my arms roughly behind my back then pushes me forward, toward the throng of agents in the doorway.

“What about the others?”

“Leave the others,” says the Commander. “Venus just wants the girl.”

Cupid manages to throw off one of the agents, then another. “LILA!” he roars, meeting my horrified gaze as he tries to rise from the floor. But the agents keep coming back.

The Commander surveys the scene coldly. “Knock him out.”

One of the agents raises her bow and thrusts it into the side of his head.

“Cupid!” I scream as he slumps to the ground, unconscious.

Cal just holds me in place, awaiting instruction from the agent in charge. I struggle against his grip. I want his hands off me.

“Take her to the cars,” says the Commander. “We’re driving back to the Matchmaking Service.”

Then he turns to me and smiles thinly.

“Time to find out what Venus makes of Cupid’s Match.”