Valentine's eyes glimmer with humor as they fix on my face.

Now, where were we?

His words seem to echo around the vast space.

My heart is pumping blood so fast around my body that I think I might be on the verge of a panic attack. I feel cold and clammy, and the air in the gym is sweet and heavy – it smells like death. It surrounds me. It's suffocating.

I need to get out of here. But I can't leave Cupid.

And I'm no match for Valentine...

Oh God.

My pulse won't slow down.

I close my eyes, just for a split second. I take a breath, gagging as the scent of decay hits the back of my throat, and I compose myself. Pull yourself together, Lila. Then I open my eyes and try to comprehend the situation.

Seven cupids, who do not look alive, are stood around me. Some look worse than others –Matchmaking Service suits soiled and tattered, and gaping wounds open across their skin. I think these must be the ones Cupid fought to get to me.

My eyes shift to him, slumped unconscious against the wall, and my heart beats faster still. He doesn't look good. Even from here I can see his eyes are closed, his face is flushed and bruised, and blood is dripping from his nose onto his moist white top.

Something seems to squeeze my heart.

Please be OK.

I dart my eyes back to Valentine. He straightens the cuffs of his white shirt, brushes off a droplet of blood from his suit pocket with the back of his hand, then brings his gaze back to mine.

His electric blue eyes burn into me.

He grins.

"There's probably no need to tell you there's no use in running," he says, looking around at the cupids surrounding me.

I follow his gaze, the hairs on my arms standing on end as I see their sunken features, their blank, unseeing eyes. They stand to attention – unmoving. Are these the cupids that have been going missing? What the hell has happened to them?!

My need for answers momentarily eases my panic.

"Are they...are they dead?" I manage to say.

He strokes his hard jaw making him look pensive for a moment.

"Yes and no," says Valentine.

My eyes dart to Cupid again. He's still out cold.

A thought hits me.

His arrows are in the quiver on his back.

I can't overpower Valentine – but these weird undead cupids went down before when Cupid shot them with the cupid arrows. If I could get past them, arm myself...

Valentine follows my gaze and laughs his low, gravelly laugh. It pulls me out of my thoughts and sends a surge of anger through my veins.

"Don't worry, your boyfriend will be fine," the way he says boyfriend is mocking, superior. "Just a brotherly fight. And he had it coming, by the way. But – to save any further altercations - we better get going before he wakes up."

What?

My feet remain firmly planted to the spot. My eyes dart up to his.

"Going?"

He arches a thick, dark eyebrow, the grin on his face spreading wider.

"Yes. You're coming with me."

I fold my arms across my chest.

"I certainly am not."

He chuckles again. Then he clicks a finger, gesturing at two of his men. They step forward out of the circle and walk in their distorted, rigid fashion toward me. As they do their disgusting stench hits my nostrils and it seems to spring my body into action.

Nope.

This is not happening.

Hell no.

They are not touching me.

As one of them, a guy with dark, wet looking hair, reaches out for my arm I swing my fist hard into his jaw. As it makes impact with his moist, sunken skin, he stumbles backwards. The next lurches for me, grabbing my body from behind, but, as he lifts me from my feet I use the momentum to swing my body forward. As my feet plant back onto the ground I throw him over my shoulder in the same move I used on Cupid in the combat training room.

I hear Valentine chuckle.

"Nice move," he comments in a casual way that makes my blood boil.

He's playing with me. He wants to see what I'll do.

I run, barging past the first guy, and hurling myself toward Cupid. I land at his side.

I'm expecting to feel Valentine's hands on me at any moment, but he still laughing softly – amused and surprised. I can feel his eyes watching me. He's enjoying this.

I feel sick and angry as my eyes dart to Cupid's still body.

I want to pull him to me; I want to check he's OK.

Instead I grab his bow unceremoniously from his chest, and grab a bunch of arrows. I turn just as Valentine clicks again and all seven of the cupids lurch toward me. Their movements are no longer slow, but sudden and fast.

Adrenaline courses through my veins like wild fire.

I think of my training sessions. I'll never be as fast as Cal or Cupid – but I can hit a target. I know I can.

I raise the bow, grab a cool black arrow, and aim at the nearest attacker who is nearly upon me. The feather fletching tickles my cheek as it flies through the air and hits him right in the heart. He falls.

I've no time to celebrate.

I pull out another arrow, aim it at the next, and fire.

Again, I hit my target.

But the others are closer now. They're closing in. Five of them. Their dark, sunken eyes fixed on me.

I reach for the next arrow. My hands tremble as I put it in place on the bow.

And they're here.

I'm pulled to my feet, engulfed in the scent of decay. I swing Cupid's bow and hear a crack as I break someone's jaw. But it's not enough. I punch and kick and scream, but there are five of them – and they don't seem to feel pain. They're pulling me forward, dragging me across the ground; away from Cupid, toward Valentine.

"GET OFF ME!" I bellow.

All the while I can feel Valentine's excitable eyes on me.

I continue to lash out, but none of my blows seem to his target. Even in my height of panic I know if I could just calm myself down I'd be able to fight better. But I seem to be filled with dangerous amounts of adrenaline – it's surpassed its job of fight or flight – and instead I'm just reeling out of control.

He's going to take me away. He's probably going to kill me.

Amid the blur of movement I catch Valentine's eye. He's watching, an unreadable expression on his face. As I lash out, hitting anything I can reach, I see him rub his mouth with a large hand – as though in thought. Then he exhales.

"Alright, that's enough. You're scaring the poor girl."

He clicks again.

The grip of hands on my arms doesn't cease, but the violent pulling and grabbing stops. I stop too. I look defiantly up at him, strands of hair hanging across my face where they've fallen loose. I grit my teeth.

"I'm not scared."

His full lips twitch.

"Of course you are. You're surrounded by the undead, you have no superhuman strength, your boyfriend is unconscious on the floor, and you've undoubtedly heard some very nasty things about me," His grin widens. "You'd be a fool not to be scared. But I don't mean to scare you. That is not my intention," he holds out a hand. "So please, just come with..."

He stills. His eyes suddenly jerk upwards to something behind me. And for the first time I see something like uncertainty flicker behind them. He narrows his eyes and takes his hand back.

What is it?

I try to turn but I'm held in place.

And then I feel the hands of one of my captors loosen from me. Then the next. Their bodies flung back across the room.

Cupid?

No. He's still unconscious on the floor.

Cal? Charlie?

I wrench my arm away from the other two cupids that are holding me. I spin around.

And I see a flurry of movement. I see long dark hair, tanned skin, and a hint of ice colored eyes that don't match the girl's complexion. She thrusts a pair of shears into the heart of one of the cupids and he crumples to the floor. She repeats the action on the next.

I watch in surprise as the two cupids she's just stabbed disintegrate into ash and bone on the floor.

What the...?

She leaps past me as the three remaining dead cupids lurch toward her – meeting them in the middle and, with one single movement, slitting all three of their throats.

They crumple to the ground and like the others disappear into nothing.

I turn, looking for Valentine, my heart thumping in my chest.

He's gone.

Then I spin back around to face the girl.

Who is she? How did she do that?

Is she going to kill me too?

Neither of us speaks. I narrow my eyes.

Is she the girl who left the note in my locker?

I only ever saw her out of the corner of my eye but as I look at her more closely I think it could be her.

She stands straight and still in a black tank top that emphasizes muscles in her arms. Her face is serious. Her cool eyes meet mine momentarily, and as they do I feel a coldness creep down my spine – but then she looks away shiftily as though she doesn't enjoy the eye contact.

Something about her puts me on edge. Like Valentine she radiates power, and danger. And death.

In one hand hangs the silver shears, covered in gore.

She looks resolutely down – and a shaft of light from one of the small windows catches off the line of piercings down her ear. Casually she wipes one of the blades on her dark skinny jeans. As she's cleaning her weapon there's a stirring by the wall.

My eyes flit over to Cupid who groans – and a tsunami of relief crashes down on me. I run over to him, falling down to my knees at his side. His eyes jolt open, wide and fearful, until they fix on me and relax slightly. As they move to the girl stood beside me they darken.

"Cupid," I say, softly touching his bruised cheek.

He flinches and I pull my hand away. He turns to look at me and cups my face in his hand,

"You OK?" he says urgently.

I nod.

He exhales – wiping the blood from his nose with his hand, then putting his head back against the wall. Then his expression hardens, a storm moving around behind his irises. He looks straight ahead as though just remembering what happened.

"Where is he?" he says through gritted teeth. "I'm going to kill him."

"Gone," I whisper.

His eyes darken violently.

"Did he hurt you?"

I shake my head. Some of the tension in his body seems to dissipate as he exhales again.

"I'm still going to kill him," he mutters.

He looks at the dead cupids on the floor, then moves his gaze to me again.

"Is it me or were they some kind of...?"

"...zombie cupids?"

I nod.

Then he nods.

And then he grimaces.

"Yeah...I thought so..."

He pushes himself to his feet and I grab his arm, helping him. He moves as though his body feels heavy. I look up at his face, cut and bruised, and have an overwhelming urge to touch him, to kiss him.

But it doesn't seem like the time - not with this strange warrior here that caused Valentine to flee.

Instead I let his reassuring heat wash over me and bask as it warms up the coldness that seems to be curling around my bones.

His eyes survey the girl stood in front of us warily; she's still wiping her shears and paying us no attention. It could be my imagination but Cupid seems to put his body in front of mine slightly, shielding me from her.

"What are you doing here, Morta?" he says. "Not on a personal visit I hope..."

His voice is even, but there's an edge to it.

She turns around. Her eyes flick lazily up and I again feel a coldness tighten around my heart. Then she looks away, addressing Cupid but not looking him directly in the eye.

"Why do you think I'm here? The dead are not dead."

Cupid's body seems to relax slightly, but my heart speeds up at her words. I've heard them before, outside my room when Cal was standing guard. She's the girl that Cal was talking to – the one he seemed afraid of. She must be.

Morta.

Why does that name seem familiar to me? I feel like I've heard it in my ancient history class, or in a textbook, or something.

On the floor by us one of the zombie cupids that I hit with an arrow twitches. Morta strides up to him and plunges her shears into his heart. Then she moves to the next.

"Wait!" says Cupid. "Let us take him back to the Matchmaking Service. We need to figure out what we're up against, how he's doing this."

She shakes her head.

"He should be dead. He must return."

"But..."

She turns and glares at him – her eyes seemingly radiating cool air. I shiver and Cupid flinches. He nods. With a sudden movement she kills the last of Valentine's cupids.

Or at least the last of the ones he brought here today I find myself thinking.

She turns to face us, but again looks neither of us in the eye.

"Though my sisters and I should not get involved in these kinds of things – there is something we must discuss," her gaze moves between me and Cupid. "It has to do with the match. I'll be in touch."

I feel Cupid tense beside me, and I feel a shiver at her words. She turns abruptly and strides toward the door. Then she stops and looks over her shoulder.

"Something is coming," she says.

Author note: Hi guys! Lauren here! For anyone who has submitted for the Friday Feature and wondered why I haven't put last weeks up yet - I'm waiting until Friday now instead. Because I'm so behind on it I realised whoever I featured would only get a few days of feature time and that wouldn't be fair! Just wanted to let you know in case you thought I'd forgotten! I don't know if you'll notice this but my chapter today is a bit longer than usual - and this is my way of making it up to you :)

Also - are any of you on Facebook? Come find me @LEPalphreyman - I recently started an author Facebook page and I'm pretty lonely on there at the moment! Come be my friend! lol :)

AND I also just want to say a big thank you for all your votes, comments, and support. We hit number 1 in the Paranormal hotlist on Wattpad this week! Eeeeek! :D :D :D

(I know I always use this gif lol I love it so much!)

Speak soon!

Lots of love,

Lauren

xxx