Together we stand. I look at my undrunk coffee in dismay, placing it on a small glass coffee table between the sofas. Then we walk across the reception area to Cassie and the elevator. There's a feeling of impending doom in the air. It takes me back to that moment in the Cupids Matchmaking Service, when Cal and I had to wait to be taken to the Founder.

Venus will see you now...

The words echo in my mind. I think it was Venus's PA, Charles who said it. And now he is missing, probably dead, just like all those other cupids; just like the cupids that have just been found at Elysium.

Coldness seeps through my body, and it has nothing to do with the air conditioning. I pull my brown leather jacket closer to my body. Cupid is looking straight ahead, his jawline hard, but Cal notices. He looks at me, and – though it looks like it pains him somewhat – he flashes me what he clearly thinks is a reassuring smile. It ends up looking more like a grimace, but I suppose the thought is there.

I force a smile back and he hurriedly averts his gaze back to Cupid striding ahead.

As we catch up with him, Cassie herds us through the open door of the elevator and pushes a button.

"Office at the end," she says. Her brown eyes focus on me, twinkling brightly, "Be careful. The floor's just been washed and it's a little slippery, so you know, mind your step." She gives me a wink, pushes a button, then steps back out into the reception.

Great. I'm going to fall on my ass, aren't I?!

As the metal doors begin to slide shut she looks at us pensively.

"I'm sure there was something I was meant to tell you..." she says.

Cupid raises an eyebrow.

She shakes her head and grins.

"Nope, lost it."

A look of alarm crosses Cal's face, and, l can tell I'm probably thinking the same as him; If she can see into the future then what if she has something important to tell us?!

The doors are almost completely closer before her arm jolts out between the doors to stop them from closing completely.

"Oh, got it! Third door on the left. It's where they keep confiscated weapons. You know, just in case you need them," she winks again then steps back, allowing the doors to slide shut.

Cal's face darkens. He scowls as the elevator starts to climb.

"Well that's just great. We're going to get attacked, aren't we?!"

"Looks like it, brother..." agrees Cupid – seemingly unperturbed – as he leans against the mirrored wall.

Attacked?!

The nauseated feeling in my gut grows. I think back to the girl with the shears. Despite the fact I've been training, and despite the fact that I'm here with the two original cupids, I still don't really fancy my chances against her. She seemed to radiate death itself.

I remember what Cupid said about her and her sisters; how threads represented life, and how Morta was the one responsible for cutting those threads.

"You think Morta is going to attack us?!" I say.

A part of me almost wonders if we should just leave before she has the chance. But then again – I don't think I can go another day without knowing what she has to tell us about the match. And I doubt Cupid or Cal will want to pass up on the opportunity to hear what she has to say about their brother, either.

Cal gives a small shrug as the elevator pings and comes to a halt.

"I don't know. It would have been useful if Cassie had given us some idea of what, exactly, she meant by that...Let's just make sure we stay on her good side."

He looks at me and Cupid pointedly – as though Cal's not, realistically, the one out of the three of us that is most likely to rub someone up the wrong way. I think Cupid is thinking the same thing because I see the corner of his lip quirk up slightly.

Moments later, the metal doors slide open, exposing a long, clean looking corridor – one side of the wall made of glass; the bright morning sun shines through and reflects harshly off the white linoleum floor. I have to avert my eyes from it.

Closest to the doors, I step out of the elevator first. Immediately I realize why the floor is so shiny.

It's wet.

I slip.

My heart leaps into my throat as Cal grabs my arm tightly before I fall – pulling me back upright.

"Mind your step," I mutter, repeating Cassie's words to myself, my heart thudding hard against my chest. I feel the heat flaring up in my cheeks.

"OK, lovebug?" says Cupid, wiggling his eyebrows at me as he strolls past.

"Fine," I say – embarrassed.

I look to my arm to see Cal's hand still clasped around it. His eyes widen and he hurriedly lets go, ramming his hands into his jeans pockets.

Together, the three of us make our way down the corridor – me walking more carefully across the slippery linoleum. The air smells clinical – a mixture of disinfectant, and the kind of warm electrical smell you get around overheating computers.

I glance out of the window; we must be at least twenty floors up – the cars and people on the road below look small from up here. With the sun beating through the window I feel myself start to sweat a little. I see the flush of pink in Cal's cheeks as well, wrapped up in his bomber jacket and scarf, as we head past the glass doors on the other side of the wall to the door right at the end.

When we get there Cupid presses a buzzer at the side, and the glass slides open.

He catches me eye, his face suddenly very serious. I suddenly feel very serious too. My nerves twist and turn in my stomach.

We could be about to find out something that changes everything...

Everything is different now...

He looks like he's about to say something but Cal clears his throat – lingering closely behind me - and seemingly not picking up on the tension.

"What are you waiting for. Let's not keep Morta waiting."

Cupid holds my gaze for a moment longer, then he nods. He turns and walks through the door. Cal and I follow closely behind.

***

We head into a vast, minimalist office space. Like the corridor, everything is white – except for a sofa and two black arm chairs by a mini fridge at one side of the space. My eyes don't take in much else though; instead my focus is drawn to the glass desk at the other side of the room. Morta sits behind it, typing on her laptop. She doesn't look up as we walk in.

"Take a seat," she says – her voice husky, with a heavy Greek accent.

Cupid leads us to the collection of black chairs and sofa.

I perch on one of the armchairs and glance upwards just as the two brothers share a look. There's a discreet scuffle between them as to who gets the remaining armchair, and who is forced to sit on the sofa next to Morta when she joins us. Cupid wins, and throws himself into the armchair leaving Cal lingering awkwardly at the edge of the couch with a scowl on his face.

I'm about to resolve the sofa politics and get up to sit next to Cal (thus leaving the armchair free for Morta), when she gets up from behind her desk and strides over. I sink back into the chair.

She looks slightly out of place in the clinical looking office – wearing combat boots, skinny black jeans, and a sleeveless top with the image of some band I don't recognize on the front. Her dark hair tumbles in waves down her shoulders. 

Her glassy blue eyes pass over us quickly, and I feel the hairs on back of my neck prickle as she does. Then she averts her gaze.

There's something a little stand-offish about her; I think maybe she doesn't enjoy spending time with other people. She looks as disgruntled as Cal at the prospect of having to share the sofa – and instead of sitting down beside him she turns suddenly, strides across the room, and grabs her office chair. We all watch in a tense silence as she wheels it over somewhat awkwardly.

My eyes flit over to Cupid. Though he's clearly trying to look nonchalant, his jaw is clenched and I can see his hands gripping the arms of the chair. I know how he feels. I just want to get this over with. I want to know what she's going to say.

Finally, she sits down.

The air is heavy with silence.

Then she speaks.

"We need to talk about Valentine."

Cupid nods, his face uncharacteristically serious.

"First, you said you had something to tell us about the match?" he tries to say it casually but his voice sounds a little choked.

Nerves twist in my stomach.

"The two things are related," says Morta.

Cupid leans forward on his chair. Cal watches Morta intently, the morning light reflecting from his silvery eyes.

"How so?" I say.

Morta glances at me, then back at the white floor. She shakes her head.

"The dead are not dead," she says. "I looked into our systems to find out if someone was somehow manipulating my code. They weren't. But I did find something. I found a breach. That occurred during the summer."

She talks quickly, abruptly. 

A breach during the summer? That was the time when Cupid will have been informed that he had a match.

I glance at him and see his eyes darken. He doesn't look at me.

"Around that time someone was added to the system," she says. "Someone who shouldn't have been in the system at all."

She flickers her cool gaze toward Cupid.

"Me," he says.

She nods.

"I traced the breach to an Internet café in Dublin."

"Valentine," mutters Cupid.

She nods.

My heart is thumping hard in my chest.

"Wait. What does that mean?" I say. "I mean...if Valentine put Cupid into the system...what does that mean for..."

I tail off – not really wanting to say it.

"The match," says Cal quickly.

"Were me and Cupid supposed to get together?" I say. "Are we really matched?"

"Or did Valentine do more than add me to the system?" says Cupid quietly.

He catches my eye for the first time since being in the office; his expression intense. There's a mixture of longing and sadness mingled with the wildness of his ocean irises. It makes my heart thud faster.

What will it mean for us if we're not really matched?

My mind replays the first time I saw him – grinning at me in class. I think of the time I laid beside him in his bed after he'd been attacked by the Cupids Matchmaking Service. I think of our kiss on his terrace, intense in the rain. I recall the moment I thought I'd killed him with the Finis arrow, the moment I thought I'd lost him forever. And my mind seems to flicker through every moment since – ending with him pushing me against the wall last night, his mouth desperate and hungry against mine.

From the expression on his face as he continues to stare at me, his eyes burning into mine, I am sure he is remembering all those things too.

If it turns out we're not really matched, will he still want to be with me?

Cal leans forward, his expression serious.

"What's going on? Did Valentine create the match when he hacked in?" he says.

Cupid and I drag our eyes away from each other and toward Morta. The three of us lean forward – the air thick with tension – as we wait for Morta's reply.