Cupid’s Match
: Part 3 – Chapter 31

Part 3 – The Finals

An extract from Records of the Finis

Whitechapel, London, 1888

An account by Crystal Brodeur

My search for the Finis led me to London.

It was said that there was a beast in these parts—part man, part something else entirely—that had stolen the final arrow and hidden it within his abode.

A thick fog was in the air when I arrived during the dead of night. I’d had to dress the part, and my long, blue skirts made a scratching sound as they dragged across the pavement. I was afraid it would be hard to fight dressed in this way, and I clutched at the special sword that hung under my cloak for comfort.

As I navigated the roads, I wondered whether the humans who had built these streets realized they had unknowingly provided him with a labyrinth. I had to marvel at his power—he had made them do it; he had made them create a vast maze out of terraced houses, shadowed alleyways, and dead ends.

It was a place where it was easy to get lost, and impossible to escape.

The beast had always liked a labyrinth.

I progressed onward. I knew that his home would be at the very center. That’s where he would keep the weapon that would kill anyone who shared the blood of Cupid. I hid by a wall as two police constables in tall helmets passed by.

“The Ripper is still at large,” I heard one say, their voices muffled in the fog. “Four murders and counting.”

I hurried on, clutching the sword even tighter. The humans thought a man had committed the grisly killings, but it was no man.

It was the beast.

The one we knew as the Minotaur.

It was over an hour before I realized I was getting close. The alleys and snicketways grew closer together and before long I reached a tall, wooden fence. At the foot was a pool of liquid. I bent down and studied it.

Blood.

This had to be it.

I pulled myself over the rotting fence and landed on a carpet of dead leaves that led to a mansion. It was tall and foreboding, the roof crumbling in parts. I doubted any human had ever set eyes on it; it was too far hidden.

I took a deep breath and made my way toward the large, wooden door. I had just grasped the cold metal knocker when it opened of its own accord, permitting me entrance into a hall lit dimly by oil lamps. The air smelled damp and musty. I moved forward through the doorway ahead.

Then I stopped still in my tracks in front of a room with a roaring fire.

A long table stretched across the room. On top of it, a feast of food had been laid. At the end was a figure leaning back in his chair, his booted feet resting on the table. His face was hidden by shadow.

The Minotaur.

“Crystal!” he said, his voice as smooth as silk. “How nice of you to drop in.”

Then he leaned forward and revealed a face I was not expecting.

The face of a man.

His skin was dark and smooth, and his eyes were a hypnotizing brown. I suddenly felt exposed despite my layers of clothing.

He was wearing a shirt with the sleeves torn off, revealing black tattoos that covered his bare, muscular arms. His hair was shaved close to his head, and across his left cheek and eye I could see a long, ugly scar that did nothing to detract from his overall beauty.

In a sudden movement he swung his legs off the table and grabbed a jug. He looked at me and smirked.

“Wine?”

Without waiting for my response he poured red liquid into a nearby goblet. I approached the table and sat down beside him.

“How did you know I was coming?”

He cocked his head to the side, and I turned to see a wall of monitors depicting areas within his London labyrinth.

He, like the cupids, had access to technology ahead of the time.

“You’ve come to kill me,” he said, grinning and exposing bright white teeth, “but first, let us dine.”

He made an exaggerated sweep of his hand to gesture at the food before us.

I looked at him curiously. He had an eccentric air, and I was close enough now to notice the black liner accentuating his eyes.

“You’re not what I was expecting,” I said.

“You were expecting part man, part beast?” He wagged a long finger at me. “Tut tut, Crystal. You should know that is the stuff of fairy tales.” A dark look crossed his face then. “But this is no fairy tale. And there is a beast within me,” he said quietly. “One that I cannot control.”

His eyes glazed over for a moment, and then, with a sudden swipe, he pushed my goblet of wine across the table toward me.

“But let us worry about that later,” he said. “Drink.”

Cautiously, I took the goblet and sniffed the liquid within. And then, for some reason I cannot quite explain, I drank.

That was my first meeting with the Minotaur.

I dined with him on each of the three nights that followed.

Though I knew him to be dangerous, there was something that made me yearn to be around him. We talked about life, and death, and politics, and gods, and I learned more about him in that short space of time than I believe I have ever learned about anyone.

It was on the fourth night that we knew this charade had to end—one way or another.

“So, are you to kill me?” he asked over a feast of meats. “I deserve it, you know.” Then he leaned forward and lifted one finger in an exaggerated fashion, as though he had just had an idea. “Though perhaps we could come to some sort of . . . agreement.”

I waited, saying nothing.

“I have something you desire,” he said, “and you have something I desire. I know what you keep hidden about your person,” he said, cocking his head toward my body. “You got it from the Oracles, I presume: the Sword of Aegeus. The one sword that can kill me.”

My eyes widened in surprise. “You would swap the Finis for the sword?”

“Yes.”

I nodded sharply. “Then the deal is done.”

That night, we made the exchange and I took the Finis from London.

I hid it in a place where no one would expect to see it.

A place where I could watch over it.

A place where the Arrows would never replace it.

“We need to get back,” Cal says again. “They’ll kill her.”

He takes off without another word and I sprint after him. When we reach the reception area, we halt in our tracks.

Curtis is no longer sitting at the high stone desk. He is standing in the center of the floor, blocking our only exit from the Matchmaking Service, and pointing a black arrow straight at us. A quiver full of more arrows hangs over his shoulder.

“Find what you were looking for?”