Cupid’s Match
: Part 3 – Chapter 32

Curtis’s eyes skim over the pages tucked beneath Cal’s arm, but his arrow remains pointed at us.

“That’s it, isn’t it? The Records of the Finis?” When Cal says nothing, he continues, “I’ve been watching you from the surveillance room over the past few days. The others may have trusted you with preventing the match, but I knew you’d betray us for your brother. I’ve seen you—helping him, entering Elysium together, hanging out at his house. Why else were you looking for the Finis other than to make sure he was unstoppable?”

Cal takes a step in front of me. “Curtis. You don’t want to do this.”

“Why are you doing this, Cal? Your loyalties should lie with us, not him.”

Cal stands rigidly, his arm muscles tense beneath his maroon sweater. “The Arrows are here,” he says softly. “They’re looking for it, and they may well replace it. Whatever his sins, Cupid doesn’t deserve to die.”

Curtis’s hand tightens around his bow so hard that his knuckles whiten. “Cupids cannot be matched,” he says. “Reinforcements are on their way. I’m arresting you, Cal. You’ve betrayed us.”

He turns his gaze to me, his eyes wild.

“As for the Match, we no longer shoot humans . . . but I’m sure the Service will forgive me in this exceptional circumstance. Two black arrows and she’ll be dead,” Curtis says. “Then the match can never be made.” He raises the bow higher. “Forgive me.”

Cal pushes me farther behind him as my heart pounds.

“I can’t let you do this,” Cal says. “What do you think Cupid will do to you if he replaces out you killed his Match?”

Curtis shakes his head sadly. “I have to—”

“Excellent question, Brother,” Cupid asks from the doorway. He turns to Curtis. “What do you think I’m going to do to you?”

Curtis’s eyes widen in alarm and he twists and releases the first black arrow. It plunges into Cupid’s chest.

“Stay back!” he says. “Stay back.”

Cupid pulls out the black arrow with a grunt. “You know you can’t kill me with that,” he says as it crumbles to ash in his fingers.

Curtis swiftly pulls out a new arrow, loads his bow, and releases. This one hits Cupid in the stomach. Cupid grunts again but continues to advance.

“You can’t escape,” the receptionist says, though there is more than a glimmer of fear in his voice now. “There are more of us than you.”

I hear movement behind us and spin around. My stomach drops. Three more cupids line the entrance to the office, each with a bow and arrow in their grasp. My heart rate quickens.

“Cupid,” says Cal sharply, catching his attention.

There is a moment’s pause before I hear Cupid sigh heavily. “Are we really going to do this?”

“You could come with us voluntarily,” says Curtis, his voice unsure. “We’ll put you on trial. It will be fair.”

“As convincing as that sounds, I’m afraid I have other plans . . .”

In a flicker of movement, Cupid rushes at the agent blocking our exit and spins him in front of him as though he is a shield. At the same time, Cal grabs the back of my neck and pushes me to the ground to avoid the flurry of arrows streaming over our heads toward Cupid.

Two Ardor arrows sink into Curtis’s chest. As he shrieks with pain, I look back frantically at Cal, who pulls me to my feet as Cupid throws the receptionist into the three cupids behind us. Then Cupid darts back out onto the street. Cal and I sprint after him, staying low to the ground as another arrow whooshes above our heads.

I run as fast as I can toward the Aston Martin, my legs screaming with the effort. When we reach it, Cupid is already in the driver’s seat, turning on the engine. I throw myself breathlessly into the back as Cal scrambles into the passenger seat. As the car accelerates, I peer through the rear window. One solitary female cupid watches us from the middle of the road, a sour expression on her face.

Cal peers over his shoulder. “You okay, Lila?”

I shoot a glimpse behind us again. The road is now completely empty.

“Yes,” I say. “Why aren’t they following us?”

Cupid looks at me in the rearview mirror. “I don’t know if you noticed,” he says, “but they’re pretty scared of me. They’re probably regrouping, working on a better plan of attack. They know force won’t work when they can’t kill me. Though I guess I was right—Lila isn’t safe from the Matchmaking Service after all.”

He throws an I-told-you-so look at his brother, then immediately frowns. “What did you replace out in there anyway? Please tell me you found the copy.”

“Crystal,” says Cal quietly. “Crystal was the last cupid to have the Finis.”

Cupid’s eyes widen and then he steps on the accelerator hard enough that I’m thrown back against the leather seat.

“What will happen to her?” I ask. “If we don’t get back in time?”

Cal’s angular face is paler than usual and his jaw is clenched.

“They’ll start with the Capax,” says Cupid, “to try and get her to tell the truth about where she put the Finis.”

“She’s a trained cupid, though,” says Cal. “ She’ll fight it. And then . . .”

He stops, looking sick.

“The Ardor,” says Cupid quietly. “They’ll torture the answers out of her.”

My stomach turns as I remember Cal’s reaction in the simulation and the receptionist’s shrieks just moments before. “And then when they have what they need, they’ll kill her so that she can’t tell us.”

Cupid puts his foot down even harder on the pedal, but it still feels like the hour we spend hurtling down the freeway takes forever. The streetlamps are streaks of white light as we finally race through the town square and approach his home. A terrible thought loops through my mind throughout the drive: What about Charlie? Is she safe? Will they take her too?

After Cupid skids to a halt in front of his house, we rush out. There is still a light on in the kitchen, and all looks undisturbed as we race in.

“Crystal!” Cal shouts. “Crystal, are you here?”

Then we open the door to the living room. My stomach plummets; there’s obviously been a struggle. The armchair is overturned and books from the shelves are scattered across the hardwood floor. Across the far wall, the roaring fire illuminates what looks like a smear of blood. I turn to Cal, whose expression is unreadable even though his silver eyes blaze.

Then I catch a movement in the corner of the room. I brace myself, spinning to face whatever threat is lurking there. Charlie steps out from behind the bookcase, and her dark eyes meet mine.

“They took her,” she says. “They took Crystal.”