Valentine's Day : CUPID'S MATCH BOOK 2

Chapter 3

Cupid didn't send the card? Who did then?!

His words fill me with a darkness, an unease, though I'm not sure why.

"What Valentine's Day card?" says Cupid.

We walk through the small indoor courtyard, past the serene pond in the centre. My eyes momentarily linger over the spot where the statue of Venus used to stand. Even though it's no longer there, a chill still travels down my spine as we cross the cobbled stones.

I pick up my pace.

"I got sent a card this morning," I say. "I thought it must be from you. Like maybe you cupids get really over-excited about Valentine's Day or something..."

We stride into the huge, open planned office area of the Matchmaking Service, immediately assaulted by the usual bubble of noise. A black-haired girl in a white suit almost knocks me over as she chatters away on a headset.

I watch for a moment as she navigates through the rows of desks and black temple like columns – pinning a photograph to the big cork board of potential matches hung on the wall.

Then I turn my gaze back to Cupid.

"Common misconception," he says with a grin, "us cupids actually don't care too much for Valentine's Day. Me especially. It's the reason why all you humans seem to think I'm a giant, winged baby, and not the hot and rugged sex god that I actually am."

He wiggles his eyebrows and I avert my eyes from his face – pushing away the embarrassing flush of colour that I know is filling my cheeks. I can feel his eyes watching me, amused.

"I didn't send you a card, lovebug. It must be from a secret admirer," he holds out his hand, "Let me see."

I reach into my jeans pocket and pull out the piece of card with the peculiar Valentine's Day rhyme written upon it. I glance at it.

Roses are red. Violets are blue. The match has been made. I'm coming for you.

I frown. If Cupid didn't send it, it seems a little threatening.

I hand it over, my fingers brushing against his for a moment. He catches my eye – briefly knocking me back by the passion behind his gaze – then he begins to read the note.

A frown creases on his forehead as he does. I watch him and the colour seems to drain from his face. A dark look flickers across his eyes.

"Valentine..." he mutters.

"Huh?"

He suddenly looks back at me, blinks, then grins. His face lightens up again. I could almost make myself believe I'd imagined the darkness moments before.

"Cupid?" I say.

He wafts his hand dismissively.

"Nothing," he says. "Probably nothing. Just a secret admirer I guess. Can I keep hold of this?"

"Um...sure...Cupid are you sure it's nothing...?"

My question is cut off as we head into the white tiled reception area; bright against the darkness coming in through the glass window. A new cupid now sits behind the desk in Crystal's old place. He nods at us as we cross the room, though I see the wariness behind his eyes.

He knows who we are; he knows what we did.

Cal's words flicker through my mind – out on the terrace of Cupid's house when we kissed in the storm.

The match has been made. Mom's home.

My eyes briefly flicker to the space above him where the golden Finis used to hang from the ceiling.

I shiver.

Then Cupid puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me out into the cool air. I look up at him and he smiles at me. But not before I catch the worry flicker behind his eyes.

Valentine...

The word repeats once more in my mind.