Лорел Гамильтон - Strange Candy

I didn’t wait to see what color of arrow it chose, I turned and ran. My high heels seemed to echo the narrow street. They’d find me. Damn it!

I made it around the corner and found every building as blank and smooth as the Cupids themselves. I had just walked down this street. There should have been doors, shops, people. I had heard that Cupids could cloud your mind, but I had never believed, until now.

I darted a look behind me. Nothing. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign, or a bad one. They either had given up, or were so sure of me that they didn’t need to hurry. Or, they were right above me and I just couldn’t see them, like the doors that should have been here. I wanted to scream and rant and stomp my feet, but that wouldn’t help. Think, Rachel, think.

If I couldn’t see the doors, maybe I could feel them. Cupids wouldn’t follow me inside. I had walked this street a hundred times, surely I could remember where one door was, any door.

My hands slid over cold, blank bricks. If there was something there, I couldn’t feel it. The Cupids flew around the corner. There were six of them, hovering, sof tpastel wings fluttering like lazy butterflies. The look in their eyes wasn’t sof t, it was cold.

I flattened myself against the wall and screamed, “Leave me alone, you overweight cherubs!”

They glanced at each other; maybe I had offended them. I hoped so. A Cupid with sof tpink wings drew an arrow from behind his back. The rest of them hovered like chubby vultures.

A man yelled, “In here!”

I glanced to my right and found a door open and a man motioning to me. “Run for it,” he said.

I ran for it. I was almost to the door when my heel broke and sent me sprawling on the sidewalk. Something whirred over my head and thunked into the door. The white arrow vibrated in the door.

White, the color of true love. Shit!

A hand grabbed my arm and pulled me inside. I scrambled inside the shop on hands and knees, no time to be ladylike. A tall, broad-shouldered man closed the door and asked, “Are you all right?”

I nodded, still sitting on the floor, staring at the arrow. It was already beginning to evaporate. In a few minutes it would be gone. No danger of us mere mortals getting hold of one of the arrows of love. Once fired they just didn’t last.

“What did I do to deserve white?” I asked, not really expecting an answer.

“Are you over thirty?” the man asked.

I thought that was a rather rude question from a stranger, but he had saved me. “Why do you ask?”

“Because once you’re over thirty the little things get pesky. I’m thirty-five and never been married. Something in a Cupid just can’t stand that.”

I smiled. “Thirty-three, never married, never want to be.”

He offered me a hand up. I took it. His hand was big like him and nearly swallowed my hand to the wrist. His eyes were perfect brown like polished chestnut. Curly brown hair was cut short and had never seen the inside of a styling salon.

I couldn’t stand straight with only one heel so I took the shoes off. “It was lucky I wore heels today.” “Damn straight. How many of ’em are af ter you?”

“Six.”

He gave a low whistle. “They want you bad.”

I nodded. He was right. One Cupid was standard, maybe even two; they didn’t seem to like to be alone much. But a lust of Cupids was a damn posse. All for little ol’ me. Had I offended someone? I had an awful thought, an uncharitable thought. Had my mother paid them off, slipped one of the little winged horrors some sweets? Cupids didn’t need money, but they loved candies and desserts. It was frowned upon, but everyone knew it happened. Corrupt Cupids with a sweet tooth.

“I’m Tom Hagan,” the man said.

“Rachel Carrdigan.” We shook hands again and his hand was warm and callused. There was something oddly appealing about his square face. If I hadn’t known better, I’d have wondered if a pink arrow had gotten me. Pink for infatuation.

“Were you out to lunch?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He smiled. “Well, it isn’t much, but I’ll split mine with you. Cupids don’t have much patience. They’ll wander off if you can hide long enough.”

“You sound like an expert.”

“Hey, I’m two years older than you. They’ve been af ter me longer.”

I laughed. “All right, if you’re sure it’s not trouble.”

“It isn’t like the shop is busy today.”

I glanced around the warm interior of the shop for the first time. Hand-carved wood was everywhere. Small furniture, shelves, animals. All the folksy wooden things the tourists bought in droves, but it was winter now and the tourists were gone. I always wondered how some of the shops made it through the off-season. One of the good things about being a lawyer, crime was always in season.

Tom brought a rocking chair he’d made himself to sit beside his own chair. He gave me a lap-size linen napkin to spread over my business skirt and shared a huge roast beef sandwich and apple pie. The pie was delicious and I said so.

“Made it myself.” He seemed embarrassed but pleased. Since I couldn’t boil soup without burning it, I was impressed.

I called my office and said I’d be later without explaining the reason. We spent a very pleasant time drinking fresh coffee and talking about small things. Nothing major or earth shattering, but comfortable.

Tom glanced at the clock. “I hate to say it, but it’s probably safe for you to leave.”

“My God, it’s two. I had no idea it was that late.” I smiled. “Maybe I’ll be needing a wooden shelf or two for my condo, soon.”

He grinned and, I swear, blushed. “I’d like that.”

There was a little click down in my solar plexus, pleasure. Who needed Cupids? I limped in my high heels, one heel on, one heel off, but it was better than going barefoot on freezing cobblestones.

Tom let me out the back door, just in case. We both looked up and down the alley. Nothing, empty,

home free. “Thanks for everything, Tom.” I shook his hand and felt that warm tingle as our skin met. Probably nothing would come of it, but it was nice anyway.

I turned just before I rounded the corner and waved. He waved back, smiling, then his face changed and he was running for me. “Behind you!”

I whirled. The Cupids were flying in at my back. I flung myself onto the ground. A white arrow buried itself into the cobblestones near my head. Tom was running toward me, shouting.

A white arrow took him through the chest. He staggered back, eyes wide and surprised. He stumbled back a few steps, then fell backward onto the cobblestones. I screamed, “Tom!” I heard the whir of wings above me. I turned, slowly, and stared into shining blue eyes. A small feminine mouth smiled at me. The little gold bow pulled back, a white arrow pointing at me.

A second Cupid with slightly paler hair and baby-blue wings floated off to the lef t, bow trained on me. I wasn’t getting away this time.

“Get it over with, you ugly little harpies,” I yelled. I threw my shoe at them, the one with the broken heel. The Cupid dodged effortlessly. How could something that chubby be so graceful? I saw the arrow leave the bow, then felt a sharp pain in my chest, over my heart. Then nothing but darkness.

TOM and I woke in the alley and did the only thing we were able to do, fall in love. It was a nice wedding as weddings go. Our mothers sat in the front rows beaming at us. Both of them admitted to having bribed the Cupids, but it had all worked out for the best, they said, smiling smugly.

We smiled back; what else could we do? Arrows of true love had hit both of us. We were in love, married, happy, vengeful.