I sit at Cupid's breakfast bar, watching as he walks barefoot around his kitchen – opening cupboards and pulling out pots and pans. It's dark outside, now, and the underlighting from his white cupboards shines off the glass front of the house; our reflections concealing whatever may be lurking in his grounds. I find my eyes flickering towards it. I know the Furies aren't scheduled until Midnight, but still – after everything that's happened these past months, it's hard not to be wary.

"You like spaghetti?" says Cupid.

My head jerks back to him – his head buried in the fridge.

"Spaghetti sounds perfect."

"Good. Because it's either that or Froot loops with some questionable looking milk." He pokes his head out from around the fridge door. "Not been shopping for a while..."

He pulls out an onion – which he looks at studiously for a moment, holding it to the light - a pepper, and some minced beef and puts them on a chopping board on the breakfast bar between us.

Then he turns, fills a pot with boiling water, and sticks in a handful of dried pasta.

"Need some help?"

"No."

He turns back to the chopping board and starts to slice the onion – eyes focused on his hands.

I watch him – my eyes tracing the line of his jaw, his thick eyebrows, and the strands of gold in his tufted-up hair. He's still wearing his short sleeved black vest from his workout session with Cal, and I can see the tightness of his muscles as he moves the knife.

Though he's speaking to me now, there's still an aura of darkness hanging around him.

There are so many things I want to talk to him about. I want to talk to him about tonight – about how we're going to find Valentine and persuade him to give up the box. I want to talk to him about the , the gods of dreams that Charlie Googled about, and how they're helping Valentine talk to me. I want to talk about Psyche, and Venus, and how he is caught up in whatever happened between them and Valentine all those years ago.

But I can't quite find the words. I shift on the tall stool, wringing my hands together on the surface of the counter.

"Cal seemed pretty shocked to see Amena again," I say, finally.

Cupid looks up slowly, catches my eye.

"Yeah. They have a lot of history."

"You knew her too?"

He nods, picking up the chopping board and turning to the pan on the hob behind. He pushes the contents haphazardly in, and the sound of sizzling and the scent of cooking onions fills the room.

"How did she and Cal meet?"

"On one of his Matchmaking assignments. It was a long time ago. He was supposed to set her up with a guy. Only the guy – well he turned out to be jealous, possessive, controlling, emotionally abusive. A complete ass basically."

"So Cal didn't set up the match?"

I watch as Cupid, back turned to me, opens a jar of passata and pours it into the pan. He jabs at the contents of the pan with a wooden spoon, and some tomato sauce flicks out onto the counter.

"No – he did. Well, he started to put it in motion anyway. It was a match, and you know how my brother likes to follow the rules." He turns around, leans back against the counter. "Only he had a change of heart. I don't know the full details, he's always been pretty cagey about personal stuff, but I know he ended up going on the run with her. When the Arrows found out that Cal had stopped a match that was supposed to be made, and that there were potential feelings involved, they went after him. And that's when I got roped into the whole thing." His eyes glint. "imagine that. The high and mighty Cal coming to me, of all people, for help."

He turns back around, reaches for a cupboard above his head – his top momentarily riding up and exposing his lower back. Then he sprinkles some oregano into the cooking Bolognese.

"How did you help?"

"I'd come into contact with a group of sirens..."

"Selena?" I interject – recalling one of Cupid's ex-girlfriends.

"Yeah. Persuaded them to help. They used the power of song to get inside the heads of the Arrows chasing us – made them forget about Amena. But it wasn't enough. More came. And there were rumblings that Venus would return to punish her son for disobeying her. In the end there was only one way to save Amena."

"What?"

He looks over his shoulder at me, eyes darkening.

"Turn her into one of us. Once you're pierced by a cupid arrow the slate is pretty much wiped clean. You get taken out of the system. You can no longer be matched with anyone."

"So the Arrows couldn't be mad that she wasn't getting together with the guy who was supposed to be her match? Because she wasn't allowed to match with anyone anymore?"

"Yup, pretty much."

"Cal did it himself?"

Cupid nods – still poking around at the pasta sauce.

I bit my lip, trying to remember everything Cal told me about her. "He said she didn't feel for him anymore, afterwards?"

He shrugs. "The cupid arrows can do that, I guess. They change you. Or so I'm told. Charlie didn't want that guy you used to be with after she turned, did she?"

"James? No. I guess not."

He turns back around, pulling a couple of bowls out from one of the shiny white cupboards.

I sigh. "Poor Cal."

"Yeah...but also shows what a hypocrite he is. All the grief he gave me when I came to find you..."

I recall what Crystal said earlier, about Cal breaking the rules just as much as his brother.

"Do you think Amena can be trusted?" I say – thinking back to the smile she shared with Jessica, and the off feeling I have about her.

"Yeah. Why?"

I shrug. "No reason."

Cupid starts to serve out the pasta and sauce – his care-free movements causing long bits of spaghetti to hang over the edge of the bowls, and meaty sauce to flick across his otherwise spotless counter.

"You sure you don't want some help?" I say.

"Nope. I'm fine."

We fall into silence. I think back to earlier, when I pushed the tip of the black arrow to my finger. I think of my conversation with Crystal, about whether Cupid or Cal had turned me. And I think of Valentine's deep, gruff voice telling me I should become one of them.

I bite my bottom lip.

"Did you ever think about turning me into a cupid? When you first came to town – before Venus came back?"

"No," he says.

"Have you ever thought about it since?"

His shoulders harden. He pauses, almost imperceptibly. "No."

The air seems to thicken. I'm not sure whether he's telling the truth or not.

Then he turns around with the messily served up bowls, and grins – the tension breaking. "I like you just the way you are."

My cell buzzes in my pocket but I ignore it – eyes focused only on him.

"Are you scared I wouldn't feel the same way about you if I was a cupid?"

His eyebrows furrow. "Do you think you'd feel differently if you were a cupid?"

I hold his gaze, then slowly shake my head.

And yet I feel the darkness inside my veins. I think about how strong it felt when I almost turned myself. I remember the raging tornado of shadow in the center of my labyrinth.

I am sure that becoming a cupid would feed that darkness somehow.

And if it did – would that change my feelings for Cupid?

A breath escapes his lips as he slides a bowl over the breakfast bar towards me. He sits down opposite.

"So, I guess we should talk."

"I guess so," I say.

Neither of us speaks.

A knock at the door interrupts the heavy silence.

Cupid exhales, his broad shoulders deflating, and gets up – walking to the door. I take the opportunity to check my cell as Cal's voice resounds in the hallway. It's Charlie. I frown.

Might be being paranoid but just bumped into James. Thought I saw him looking at my arrows.

My eyebrows furrow as Cal strides into the room, followed by Cupid. The only way someone can see the arrows is if a cupid shows them, or if they are...well...not human.

"What is it, brother?" says Cupid looking exasperated.

Cal looks at me, then the two bowls, and scowls. "This was your great plan? Pasta?!"

"Well, you know what they say...never go to the Underworld on an empty stomach..." says Cupid – sliding himself back onto his stool and picking up his fork. He looks at Cal. "You may as well help yourself to some if you're staying..."

"No thanks." Cal seems almost affronted at the idea. "I came to share some disturbing news."

"Of course you did." Cupid forks the spaghetti into his mouth. "What now?"

"Not all the arrows shot in the Love Shack were Ardors as we originally thought. A few of the teenagers that Mino locked up are displaying signs of being...well...cupids."

Cupid's expression darkens. My heart begins to beat faster. I try to cast my mind back to the Love Shack earlier. Was James there?

"The Arrows are recruiting," says Cupid. "They need more disposable agents to send on this box finding mission to the Underworld."

"So, it seems. At least we have them locked up."

"Um..." the two turn to look at me. "Not to be the barer of bad news...but are we sure we have all of them locked up?"

Cal's pale eyebrows furrow. "What? Why?"

I slide my cell across the counter. Cal strides towards it and picks it up. He exhales sharply through his nose.

"Well, that's just great, isn't it?" He turns the screen towards Cupid who puts down his fork, a pained expression crossing his face.

"We can't catch a break, can we?" he says. He stands up, and he and Cal start to walk towards the door. He looks over his shoulder at me. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Looks like its time we all had a conversation with your ex..." he says.