My sleep is restless, disturbed by dark dreams. Every creak in the house, or whisper of the wind outside, seems to wake me.

I don't know what it is that wakes me this time, but, as I lie in Cupid's four-poster bed, I can't get back to sleep. The shadows around Cupid's room bring me back to the gym earlier today. My mind recalls the smell of the undead, and Valentine's shocking blue eyes as they fixed on me.

Just thinking of him sends an unwelcome shiver through my body.

What does he want with me?

I think of that note that Mino found on the dead body – the dead body that has probably now come back to life...

I need your heart for what I'm to do.

A part of me wishes I was in my own bed, not tangled in Cupid's expensive red sheets that smell like him and the summer. Being here makes me think of him. And thinking of him makes me feel sad – because all of this might have been a lie. And Cupid knows it too.

But then how can my feelings be a lie? I think of the moment I first met him – the way my body seemed to yearn for him before I ever even knew him. I think of the way the air between us seems to crackle with electricity. I think of the way his kiss sets my skin on fire.

I sigh heavily.

He's my match. He has to be. Right...?

Realizing I'm not going to get to sleep anytime soon I sit up. I pad over the cream carpet, feeling the soft fibers between my bare toes, and peer out of the window at Cupid's moon lit grounds below.

I want the answers that tomorrow will bring, but I dread them too. Valentine seemed to know something that me and Cupid didn't – and I'm sure it is about the match. I remember Cupid's and Cal's faces when Cupid told us Valentine had been missing since before we met.

Could Valentine have had something to do with me and Cupid getting together? Has this whole thing been orchestrated by him?

The thought makes me feel sick. My heart pounds at my chest, and my stomach is a tangle of nerves.

I think about calling Charlie, to talk to her about all of this. But it's late, and she'll either be asleep or working on that list of missing cupids for Crystal. If she's doing that she'll be with Cal. And I don't know why, but I don't want Cal to know what's going on between me and Cupid right now.

Everything is different now.

His words come back to me. His eyes, silver and filled with passion.

Everything is different now.

The buzz of my phone on the bedside table jolts me back into moonlit the room. I frown. Then I head back to the bed and sit down on the edge.

I pick up the phone.

My stomach jolts.

The message is from an unknown number.

Except it's not unknown to me now. It's the same number that messaged me earlier.

Nausea fills me, and I feel a tremble in my hand.

Nice meeting you today, Lila. See you soon. Xxx

It's from Valentine.

***

I wake up to the sound of male voices downstairs. I blink a couple of times. The early morning light floods into the room, and with it the memories of yesterday: undead cupids, the impending meeting with the fates, and Valentine's message in the middle of the night. My stomach turns over. As if I didn't have enough to be worrying about without receiving messages from a serial killing maniac.

What does he want from me?

I groan and rub my eyes, my body aching a little from the fight in the gym yesterday. I check my phone – 7:30. This is way too early for a Saturday. There's a message from Charlie on the screen telling me that she and Crystal are meeting with Mino at the police department today; they want to see if they can match their list of missing cupids with any police reports of crimes or missing people.

I climb out of bed and pad over to the door. I stop in the doorway. Folded in front of it are my clothes from yesterday, freshly washed, with a handwritten note on top.

Morning lazy bones. Thought you might be needing these. Meet us downstairs for breakfast. Cupid.

A smile tugs at the corner of my lip. But then it falls from my face as I realize the Cupid I know would have barged into the room to see me – not left a note at the door.

He's keeping his distance.

He doesn't think I'm his match.

What if we're not matched? What does this mean for us?

I take a deep breath, calming myself. Then I get dressed in his en-suite bathroom before heading down the twisty staircase toward the kitchen.

Cal is sat solemnly at the breakfast bar facing away from me when I enter. He's looking wintery in a khaki, hooded bomber jacket, striped scarf, and jeans. The morning light highlights his blonde hair through the glass front of the room. His bow and arrows are leant against the stool beside him. Cupid leans against the counter eating a bowl of cereal.

He looks up, catching my eye, as I wander in.

Cal – seeing Cupid look my way – turns his head. His silver eyes meet mine.

"Finally," he says before anyone else can speak.

He huffs then pushes back the stool and stands stiffly, scooping up his bow and arrows and slinging them over his shoulder. I must be gaping at him because Cupid's eyes glint with amusement at my expression.

"Finally?! It's like half seven in the morning. On a Saturday! And I didn't even know you were here..."

Cal ignores me and makes his way to the door where I'm stood – shuffling me out into the corridor.

"Hey...!"

I hear Cupid put down his bowl on the counter as I'm forced to turn around and am escorted to the garage – Cal tailing close behind.

"Jeez Cal, can't a girl get a coffee before she's sent out to meet her fate..."

"A girl can get a coffee if she gets up early," says Cal – leaning over me to push open the door.

Cool air and the scent of petrol greets us as I step out toward the cream car in the center of the room. Cupid bounds up behind us – now wearing his black leather jacket.

"We'll get you a coffee on the way," he says, his voice amused – pulling his keys out of his pocket.

"We most certainly will not," says Cal – hurrying over to the passenger seat of Cupid's Aston Martin. "We don't have time. Crystal set up the meeting for half 8. And there'll be traffic. It's not wise to keep the Parcae wating."

He throws an accusatory look over the hood of the car at me – the silver in his eyes glinting sharply.

"Well why didn't anyone wake me?!"

He slides his gaze over to Cupid.

"Excellent question, Lila."

Cupid shares a look with me, rolling his eyes.

"It'll be fine," he looks at Cal. "Will you calm down brother? We don't need to race ahead at a thousand miles an hour just because you're scared of them..."

I notice Cal's jaw tense with annoyance. He narrows his eyes.

"And you don't need to try and delay the meeting just because you're scared of what they're going to say..."

Something flashes across Cupid's eyes but Cal climbs into the car and slams the door before he can respond. I feel a stab of hurt at his words as well.

What are the Fates going to say?

Cupid catches my gaze again.

There's a flicker of sadness in it. But he forces a smile.

"Ignore my brother. We'll get you a coffee on the way," he gets into the car. "Come on."

I take a deep breath then climb into the backseat – resting my head back against the cool leather.

Cupid puts his keys in the ignition, the garage door opens, and the car starts to move. My body is alight with nerves.

What does Morta have to tell us? Will she know anything about Valentine and the zombie cupids?

And what will she tell us about the match?