Morta looks between us with her cool blue eyes. The morning light shines brightly through the glass front of the office; it glints off the line of silver piercings in her ear. Cal's question hangs heavy in the air.

Did Valentine create the match when he hacked in?

My heart beats too fast. I feel like something is tangling in my stomach. My body is cold. Cupid and Cal both lean forwards slightly in their seats - Cupid's hands gripped tightly to the black arms of the chair, his knuckles white.

Did Valentine create the match when he hacked in?

We're all waiting; waiting for an answer that could change everything.

Morta brushes her dark hair out of her eyes, then looks at us again.

"Perhaps," she says - her tone abrupt. My stomach plummets and Cupid runs an agitated hand across his mouth. "But perhaps not." she adds, looking away from us again.

Cupid's eyes narrow, a storm provoked behind them.

"As clear as usual, Morta," he says. Cal flashes him a warning look but Cupid ignores him. "Do you mean that you don't know if he made the match? Or do you just not want to tell us?! Because either way this is starting to seem like wasted trip to me..."

Morta glares at the three of us - finally holding our gazes. The hairs on my arms stand on end.

"The dead are not dead. That is my priority. Not the love lives of humanity. Not who you have decided to date this century, Cupid."

Cupid jumps to his feet, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning. Outrage crosses his strong features.

I feel a stab of annoyance at Morta's callous words - but from the look on her face right now I sure as hell aren't going to say anything. I think about what Cal and Cupid told me about her. They said human lives were stored on the Fates' computer systems.

Could Morta kill me with a line of code?

But still - Morta hasn't answered our question. The question that has been burrowing in my mind since yesterday.

She has to tell us. I feel my hands clench into fists - and though a part of me, remembering Cassie's prophetic instruction alluding to a fight occurring, thinks I should tell Cupid to calm down, I don't.

Because like him - I want to know. I need to know.

She has to tell us.

I lean forward. On the sofa opposite Cal looks slightly panicked at the escalating situation - his body tense. He watches his brother intently.

"Cupid..." he says quietly, warning in his tone.

"Whatever Valentine is planning - it started when he entered your details in the system," says Morta coolly. "It started with the match. That's what we need to discuss."

"Is Lila my match or not?" says Cupid, his voice raised.

"It is more complicated than that," says Morta. "Sit down."

"TELL ME."

"Sit down."

He looks momentarily like he's going to charge forward or something; I see the taut muscles of his torso through his top, and the hardness in his jaw. Cal looks ready to leap up, hold him back. But then Cupid takes a deep, ragged breath, gets control of himself, and sits back down in the black armchair.

"Fine."

He leans back and raises a thick eyebrow at her.

"Well?!"

"I deal with death, not life. This is not a priority."

Cal looks between the two of us.

"It is to them..." he says quietly.

Her eyes harden.

"It's a priority to them. Please, Morta," he adds.

I look at him in surprise - wondering whether this is an act of compassion for me and his brother, or whether he just sees that Cupid clearly isn't letting this go.

A look of annoyance flickers over Morta's tanned face.

"Fate is not black and white. It's complicated. And I don't have the time, and you do not have the understanding to process it," she says. "But, if it gets this meeting finished quicker then I will try."

I feel a wave of relief, mixed with anticipation. Finally...we're going to get some answers.

She pauses, a pensive look on her face as though deciding how to relay some information.

"Look," she begins. "Cupid was not supposed to be in the system. If he had not been put into the system, there could be two possible outcomes. Lila could have been matched with someone other than Cupid. Or she could have been matched with no-one at all. Both mean different things. But it is impossible to know for sure because he was put in the system. And that could have been the way it was meant to be all along. Do you understand?"

"No..." I say softly. I think about Valentine - about what he said about finding me in the system. "Did Valentine actually - somehow - like, link us together or something?"

"It is irrelevant," says Morta again. Her tone is blunt, again - bored. She doesn't want to deal with our drama right now.

"Irrelevant?!" says Cupid - voicing my own incredulity. It's clearly not irrelevant to us. Cupid looks like he's about to leap to his feet again. "How can you speak like it means..."

"The match was made," says Cal - his voice is quiet but it cuts Cupid off mid-sentence.

Cupid and I both jerk our head toward him. The white office space is silent for a tense moment.

"Exactly," says Morta.

"What?" I say.

"I get it," says Cal. "The match was made," I think I detect a hint of sadness, or acceptance, or something in his tone, but I could be imagining it. "When you got together Venus came back. Regardless of how the match was orchestrated - the match happened, it was made. It was real. Otherwise Venus would not have returned. The rest doesn't matter."

I turn my head back to Morta and she nods.

"So...we are matched...?" I say quietly.

"The match was made" she repeats.

Relief washes over me. I sink back into the chair. I look over to Cupid, feeling the silly grin growing across my face. I am Cupid's Match - and he is mine. Nothing has changed.

Only Cupid looks troubled. His eyebrows are furrowed, and his eyes dark with thought.

But this is good news. Right?

My face falls.

Has he interpreted this differently to me? Has the doubt over the match caused him to question his feelings?

The relief transforms into niggling doubt deep down in my gut.

I need to talk to Cupid. But - with this bringer of death sat opposite us, watching us with a cool expression on her face - now is probably not the time.

"Now -" says Morta, "let us proceed with the more important things. The whole balance of life and death hangs out of balance. And it is your brother that is causing it."

She gives an accusing look at Cupid and Cal, briefly catching their eyes, before focusing on the air between them.

"If Valentine put you in the system, he wanted the match to happen. And if he wanted the match to happen he has a plan. Something bigger than causing trouble. That is what I brought you here to talk about."

Cal nods before Cupid - who clearly still wants to talk about the match - can say anything.

"He's been planning, whatever it is, for a while," says Cal.

Morta gives him a cool look as though he's stating the obvious.

"Yes. And with his apparent fixation on Lila and Cupid - you are all in a good place to find out what his plan may be."

I suddenly recall something from school.

"Was it you who put the note in my locker? You said Valentine's Day is coming. Stay away from your match. What did you mean by that?"

She shakes her head slowly, meeting my eyes for a second but then focusing just to the left of me. She really doesn't seem to like eye contact.

"That was my sister. I told her not to get involved - it's not our place - and so I'll tell you no more. Only - my sister believes that something will occur on Valentine's Day that could change everything, something based on one of Cassie's prophecies. It wasn't very clear, and her prophecies aren't always reliable." She looks at me and Cupid, "but she thinks the two of you will be involved."

"Oh, Come on!" says Cupid, throwing his hands down onto his knees in agitation. "Seriously? You can't tell us anything?!"

Morta throws him a deathly stare and he shuts up.

"Fine..." he mutters, "Helpful as usual..."

"Do you know how he is bringing the dead back?" interjects Cal.

Morta shakes her head.

"On death, a person's string of code is moved out of my system. They are then logged in a new system when they reach their destination. These dead are not in my system, nor in the system they're meant to be. I cannot find them so I don't know what is wrong. And, as such, I cannot manually delete them from the computer system. I need you to find out how he is doing it. He is the responsibility of the Matchmaking Service. Not the Parcae. We have higher things to work on, things more important than humanity and a rogue cupid, even if he is an original. But he is messing around with the natural order, and I cannot let that continue."

She shifts in her chair as though ready to end the meeting.

"You managed to kill them with your sheers, though?" says Cal.

Morta nods.

"Yes. My sheers can cut anyone's thread."

Cal's phone buzzes and he pulls it out of his pocket.

"Where is Valentine keeping all of his zombie cupids?" I ask - the thought suddenly occurring to me. "Surely if there were one hundred zombies roaming around, people would start to notice..."

"I have a couple of theories," says Morta.

"Care to share them...?" says Cupid.

"I'd start by checking the logbooks from the ferry..."

Before she can say anything further Cal jumps to his feet. We all jerk our heads toward him.

"What is it, brother?" says Cupid.

"Crystal, Charlie, and Mino got to Elysium to collect the bodies of the dead cupids...only the bodies were no longer there."

My blood runs cold.

Somewhere outside a car alarm goes off. Then another.

A bad feeling begins to creep over me.

Cal's words in the elevator - after Cassie told us about the weapons - comes back to me.

We're going to be attacked, aren't we?

As Cupid and Cal begin talking over each other - trying to determine what is going on I get up slowly. I head toward the glass front of the office.

"Well where the hell are they, then?" says Cupid.

I look out into the street below.

"How am I supposed to know?" snaps Cal. "But if they're undead...wandering around Los Angeles...well... we need to find them, immediately."

My pulse races - sending cool adrenaline shooting through my veins.

Because, below, on the street in broad daylight - moving distortedly are a group of disheveled, dead looking figures. In the center stands a male, taller than the rest.

He looks upward - his shocking blue eyes catching mine. He winks.

Valentine.

My stomach plummets. My mouth turns dry.

"Found them," I say.