"I meant what," Cupid said. "As in what the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about my feelings for Ariel."

"'Your' feelings."

"Yes," Darius said.

"'Your' feelings?"

"'Yes'," Darius said again.

"Really? Your feelings?"

"Well, who else's feelings would we be talking about?"

"Her feelings." Cupid had tucked his knees underneath himself, so that he was sitting up higher.

"Her feelings?" Darius was confused. "What about them?"

"She's supposed to be in love with you."

"What?" Darius asked.

"I shot her. She's supposed to be in love with you."

Darius sank into the filthy plastic chair. He was feeling dizzy and it wasn't from the cigarette smoke. "With me?"

Cupid nodded. "I guess the Fates didn't think anyone could fall in love with you, so I was supposed to intervene. I did, finishing out the last of my new sentence, and then I came to your place for breakfast. You're a h.e.l.l of a cook, Dar."

Darius reached for one of the Cuban cigars. It felt smooth and small in his long fingers. "But you didn't do anything to me?"

"Did you see an arrow?"

"An entire quiver of them, actually," Darius said. "Hanging between your wings."

"I mean in you, stupid."

Darius glared at him. "I'm not stupid."

"It's beginning to sound like you are. I mean, if you're in love with her and she's in love with you, then where's the problem?"

"She was supposed to fall in love with the next man she saw, right?"

"Yeah, right," Cupid said. "How dense are you?"

Darius ignored the way Cupid had turned his own words against him. "And when were you supposed to shoot her?"

"Before she saw you, which I did."

"Why?" Darius asked.

"What do you mean why?" Cupid asked. "So that you could live happily ever after."

"No," Darius said. "If you were supposed to do that, then you should have shot me too, which you deny."

"I didn't need to," Cupid said. "You're in love with her. You said so yourself."

"I didn't know her when I saw you."

"Sometimes these things just work out." Cupid grabbed a cigar for himself, bit off the end, and conjured a flame on the end of his finger, lighting the cigar. Foul blue smoke filled the room.

Darius set his cigar down, no longer tempted. "This thing isn't working out."

"Oh, sure," Cupid said. "Because you worry too much. Go home, Dar. Kiss the girl. Get married or whatever it is people do these days. It's not my concern anymore."

"No," Darius said. "It's mine. She's obsessed with Darius."

"Darius?" Cupid said. "Since when did we start referring to ourselves in the third person?"

Darius took a deep breath, then coughed, realizing his mistake. He still thought of himself as Andrew Vari. "You know what I mean."

"Actually, no." Cupid took another puff of his cigar. His cell phone rang. "Excuse me," he said, pulling the phone out of his pocket.

"No." Darius grabbed the phone. "We're going to finish this conversation."

"Yeah," Cupid said, his voice rising in panic. "After I get that."

Darius flipped the phone open. "Cupid is busy right now," he said into it and hung up.

"Oh, that'll help," Cupid said. "They think my name is James."

"Then you'll have a bit of explaining to do, won't you?" Darius asked.

The phone started ringing again. Darius slipped it into his pocket.

"I could spell that phone to me," Cupid said.

"Do it," Darius said, "and I'll make sure they can't understand a word you're saying."

"You came to me for a favor," Cupid said, "so stop being a b.u.t.t."

"I came to you for an explanation," Darius said. "And I specialize in being a b.u.t.t."

The ringing stopped.

"All right." Cupid put the still-smoldering cigar in a full cut-gla.s.s ashtray on the side of his desk. "The Fates were afraid the girl wouldn't fall in love with you, though for the life of me, I can't figure out why."

"I don't need the sarcastic side commentary," Darius said.

"So they gave me the job. I had to shoot her and guarantee that she'd see you next. Which I did, quite efficiently, I might add. I shoot her, she sees you, and falls in love. You see her and fall too, which kinda surprises me, considering all the women you've known. What is it about her? I thought you swore off redheads after Anne of Austria."

"She wasn't a redhead," Darius said.

"Whatever." Cupid held out his hand. "Phone."

"Did the Fates say why her?"

"Oh, you know. The usual c.r.a.p. Destiny, life's journey, personal growth, blah, blah, blah."

"Hers or mine?"

"Hers or mine what?"

"Destiny. Was it her destiny or mine to fall in love?"

"Well, how am I supposed to know? I'm just the messenger. Literally."

"What about her soul mate?" Darius asked. His heart was pounding. If they had Cupid shoot her, then maybe, just maybe- "What about him?" Cupid picked up the still-smoldering cigar, stared at it for a moment, and then stubbed it out.

"She has one."

Cupid gave him a disbelieving look.

"Trust me," Darius said. "Being able to see soul mates is one of my many gifts from the Fates."

"Such lovely women they are. Generous. Kind. Manipulative as h.e.l.l." Cupid coughed. It was a smoker's cough, deep and throaty.

"Well?" Darius asked.

"Well what?"

Darius clenched his other fist. If he didn't see Cupid for another thousand years, it might be a thousand years too soon. "What about her soul mate? Didn't the Fates consider him?"

"I a.s.sume, since I was instructed to shoot her before she saw you ..." Cupid's voice trailed off. "Wait a minute."

Darius stood. He couldn't sit still for this.

"They were very insistent on the arrow."

Darius turned. "The arrow?"

Cupid nodded. "You know. I had various types."

"Right," Darius said. "Gold and lead."

"Oh, man. You are behind the times."

"I am?"

Cupid nodded. "Those were the first crude versions. By the end, I had a hundred different kinds, from the thick Everlasting arrow to the slim l.u.s.t-at-First-Sight arrow."

Darius felt his breath catch. "And?"

"And what?"

"What type of arrow did they want you to use?"

Cupid slid back down on the chair. He rubbed his knees as if sitting on them had made them sore. "I forget."

"You just said--"

"I know." Cupid was looking down. "But I forget."

"I take it that the arrow wasn't an Everlasting one," Darius said.

"No moss grows on you." Cupid stood. "Ah, h.e.l.l, Dar. I thought, what could it hurt? She was pretty and you're not known for your serious relationships. When we met, you didn't even believe in love."

Darius felt as if the air had been knocked out of him. "Three thousand years ago. My life has changed a little in that time."

"Well, you know. I owe you."

Darius nodded.

"I mean, you got punished and all, but I wasn't above feeling a little satisfaction when they said..." Cupid shook his head. "I don't feel that way now. I saw you that morning and thought, jeez, you turned into quite a guy, you know. You didn't throw me out or nothing, and you wanted to. I could tell. I mean, we have history, you know?"

"What kind of arrow?" Darius asked.

"It wasn't a bad one. You know. I got the Love Is Blind ones, which I think should be trashed, and the Love the Next Thing You See ones, which can sometimes get ugly and really explains how people can get hung up on, say, a car or something. It wasn't one of those."

"What was it?" Darius asked.

"And it wasn't lead. I haven't used a lead arrow in two thousand years. They got banned."

"Cupid--"

"James. Just call me James. I'm so sick of that little dimpled boy that they draw me like. I mean, I haven't looked innocent, maybe ever. You know?"

"What kind of arrow?"

Cupid bowed his head. "l.u.s.t at first sight," he mumbled.

"What?" Darius asked, even though he thought he knew what Cupid had said.

"l.u.s.t at First Sight." Cupid raised his head. He had a pleading expression on his face. "It's a sweet little spell, really. It's not powerful, not like it could be, you know, overwhelming, because that leads to things people could get arrested for. This was just one of those zippy little spells that sent shivers through the recipient, and it usually leads to love--"

"Usually?" Darius asked.

Cupid shrugged. "Sometimes it goes awry."