Cupid’s Match

“So this is it, is it?” I say quietly. “Venus will see me now?”

This is where following a boy out onto the terrace at his party has led—to a reception with the goddess of love. I feel a pang and wonder if I will ever see Cupid again.

“Will she kill me?” I ask Cal as he rises to stand stiffly beside me.

Cal averts his eyes. “Get up.”

I look at Venus’s PA, who is tapping his fingers against the reception booth impatiently. “She hasn’t got all day,” he says testily.

I turn my eyes to Cal again. I wish I could read his expression. I wish I could understand why he betrayed us. As I stand, an unusual calm washes over me. Whatever happens, I will face it; there is no other choice.

Cal grabs my arm and marches me forward, his fingers digging into my skin. Despite his cool demeanor, I can tell he is nervous. I cast my gaze to the quiver still on his back. The Finis is still there.

“Let go of me,” I say, my voice steady. Maybe if I can get hold of the Finis I could . . .

Cal follows my gaze and gives a subtle shake of his head. Then he pushes me ahead of him toward Charles.

“Don’t do anything stupid, Lila,” he whispers in my ear through gritted teeth.

“This way, please,” says Charles.

Side by side, we follow him down a long, arched corridor whose walls are a blinding white. Our footsteps echo off the black and white checkered floor. While the décor is similar to the rest of the Cupids Matchmaking Service, the air smells strange and sickly sweet.

As we move on, I wonder if Cal is going to deliver the Finis directly to Venus. If he does, then she can use it to kill Cupid.

I glare at Cal again. “How could you do this?”

He says nothing, only gestures to the black door at the end of the corridor, where two armed cupids stand guard—one male and one female. As we get closer, I notice a white plaque with Venus, CEO in elegant pink calligraphy, nailed to the dark wood.

Charles stops in front of the two agents guarding the door and spins around to face us. His eyes are a dull green.

“Leave your weapons outside the door, please,” he says. “You can collect them once She is finished with you.”

My eyes flicker to Cal’s face. If he’s going to give the Finis to the Matchmaking Service then surely this is the moment to reveal its presence. But he makes no movement to give in his bow or arrows.

“No weapon can harm Venus,” he says.

Charles shrugs disinterestedly. “I didn’t make the rules. Leave your weapons with one of the agents, please.”

When Cal only stares at Charles coldly, the agents by the door reach for their own weapons, suddenly alert. Then Cal gives a thin smile.

“Of course,” he says. “As She wishes.”

He passes the bow to the male then shrugs the bundle of arrows off his shoulder. The female agent takes it and balances it against the wall.

Charles nods, then raps lightly against the black door.

“Come iii-nnn,” sings a high-pitched voice on the other side.

This is it.

Without thinking, I look to Cal for some form of comfort, but of course, he doesn’t give it. He stares straight ahead as Charles pushes open the door and walks through.

The first thing that hits me is the smell. It’s even stronger than in the hallway; sweet, yes, with an undercurrent of something else—something nasty. Bile makes its way up my throat, but I swallow it down as Cal pulls me inside.

We’ve entered a narrow room with a black wood floor and dark-pink walls. Where we stand is lit by a cold, artificial light, but the end of the room is shrouded in darkness. I can’t see Venus, but there are bouquets of flowers everywhere—blood-red roses and white myrtle burst out of vases and wrap up the walls to twine around ceiling beams. I can hear the trickling of water but I can’t work out where it is coming from.

“Here they are, ma’am,” says Charles. “Cal. And Cupid’s Match.”

After a low bow, he dismisses himself, closing the door behind him. There is silence for a moment. Then a shuffle from the dark end of the room.

“Come forward, plee-aaassee.”

The voice is the embodiment of the smell—sickly sweet with something nasty roiling beneath the surface. Cal lets go of my arm and slowly walks toward the darkness. I look longingly at the door we’ve just come through. But what’s the point in running? They’ll only bring me back again.

Filled with dread, I inch forward, my breathing quickening with each step that I take.

“That’s right,” says the voice. “Come here.”

As we get closer, I see the shape of a large desk and the silhouette of a figure sitting behind it.

Venus.

The sound of water is stronger here, and for a moment I think I hear the sound of something thudding against glass.

“That’s quii-tte close enough,” sings the voice. “Now—let me have a look at you,”

Slowly and fluidly, the shadowed figure rises from the chair and stands to her full height. She is bigger than a human woman, in both height and breadth. Her body is exaggeratedly curved but, through the darkness, I can’t determine whether it is due to clothing or her actual shape.

And then suddenly she is just inches in front of us.

At first glimpse, she is beautiful. Her hair, a fiery red, is braided around her head and entwined with white flowers. Her pale skin accentuates her clear blue eyes, and she’s wearing a ball gown that looks to be made entirely of crimson roses. Strapless and cinched at the waist, it boasts a billowing skirt that seems to sway in a breeze that isn’t there.

No one speaks. Venus continues to look at me, and as I stare back, my skin starts to crawl. There’s something behind the beauty; something not quite right.

Her skin is too pale—almost translucent—and completely without pores or blemishes or marks of any kind. It looks slippery, like an imitation of skin. The pupils in her eyes are too small, and she doesn’t blink often enough. They make me think of the eyes of a doll. And although she is smiling at me with full, red lips, there’s a menacing twist to it.

Suddenly, in a movement too fast for me to follow, her fingers caress the side of my face. They are long and cold—corpse-like—and my skin crawls.

“So this is her, Cupid’s Match,” she says, tilting her head to the side. “The reason I’ve been called back in to work.”

Her voice is like a little girl’s, but she prods me in the chest with each word—the last push so forceful that I lose my footing, landing hard on my back. I blink and she is towering over me. Fear fills my body. I inhale sharply, taking in a sickeningly large gulp of the overpowering scent.

“You know—that’s not very nice, being called into work on your millennium off,” she says as she stoops down, picks me up like a rag doll, and plants me back on my feet. “There are a lot of things I could do to you if I wanted to. And you must be punished, of course. You have been a very naughty little Match.”

“Mother,” Cal warns.

She turns her head to focus on Cal. “I’ve heard you’ve been a naughty little boy too,” she says, picking up her skirts and running with tiny steps over to her son. “Again.”

There’d be something comical about her movements if she weren’t so terrifying.

“Do you like my new hair?” she asks, beaming. “It’s red. Like Charles’s. We’re matching.”

Cal ignores her words and looks her straight in the eye. “If you don’t hurt Lila now—if you give her a trial—you can make an example out of her,” he says slowly.

She sticks out her bottom lip. “But I want to hurt her now.”

Cal just looks at her sternly.

Venus sighs. “But of course you’re right. We’ll keep her for the trial. She’ll be our little human pet.” She looks back at me with those unblinking eyes and smiles a smile that makes my skin crawl. Then she claps her hands together. “Anyway—I’ve got you both presents! Come! Come!”

Dread fills me. What present could the goddess of love possibly have for me?

Suddenly, she’s at the other end of the room, back in the darkness. She claps her hands again and the lights spring on. This time bile forces its way to the top of my throat. She stands between two glass doors, behind which two figures float in water.

Inside one—unconscious and ethereal—floats Crystal.

Inside the other—thumping the glass wildly with his fists—is Cupid.

Venus looks at us and smiles sweetly, but there is malice in her eyes. “Do you want to open them?”