FIVE

A VERY BAD CUPID

Sometimes, Errol thought, he had a limited imagination. He had known they would fall fast, but he hadn’t been able to picture how fast, how his stomach would feel like it was trying to float out of his mouth, how all the blood would fill his head like a water balloon.

Technically, they weren’t falling, but sliding—not that he could see the difference as they reached an estimated one million miles an hour. The silk curtains he and Dusk lay on reduced the already minor friction of the glass to almost zero.

It wasn’t this part that worried him, though, but what was coming. When friction came back.

There was no seam where the glass met the stone, but he felt the change instantly. When his feet hit the new surface they caught a little, even lubricated, as it were, by the sheer fabric. His upper body, still on the glass, tried to speed around his feet by flipping him over; his hands and face left the pyramid, but with a yelp he was able to slam back against it.

Then they were on the stone, and resistance was uniform again. They were still going down fast, really fast. The difference was that the silk was starting to feel hot on his bare skin. Just as he thought it was about to catch fire, they crashed into the base of the pyramid.

He lay there, wondering if his legs were broken. They certainly hurt enough, as did his lungs and his gut.

Dusk sat up before he did, coughing.

“Well, that was a bad idea,” Errol said. “Although it was also kind of awesome.”

“Amazing,” Dusk said. She was smiling. “Shall we do it again?”

“Maybe some other time,” Errol. For now we probably ought to—”

“Yes,” Dusk said. Her face fell. “Yes,” she said. “We should try. You remember where my armor is?”

“Yes,” he said.

They retrieved the armor from beneath the shield with the lions, but she didn’t put it on. Instead they began to run, and when their energy was spent, to walk. It felt like forever before the city was behind them, but once it was out of sight, Errol began to think they were safe. That they had a chance.

He was wrong. They’d not even made it back to the wash when he heard horns in the distance.

Dusk pushed on a few more moments, then bowed her head.

“It was a good try, Errol,” she said. “Now you must leave me.”

“No,” he said. “Not this time.”

“Yes,” she said. “They will not kill me, at least not right away. But they will kill you. Flee, Errol. You’ve done enough.”

“Let’s run together. They haven’t caught us yet.”

“Errol,” she sighed. She stepped close and took his hand. She leaned up and kissed him very lightly on the cheek.

“Take this,” she said. She pressed something into his hand. It felt like a marble.

“Éidi,” she whispered, pointing.

At first he didn’t get it. But then his feet started moving—away from her.

“Dusk!” he shouted.

She was already running the other direction. She quickly vanished over a dune and was out of sight.

He tried to retake control of his legs, but it was no good. He heard the horns again, still far away. Then, a bit later, he heard the sound coming closer.

He glanced behind him and saw them, raising a cloud of dust, clearly coming his way.

Had Dusk been trying to save him, or had she sent him off as a decoy? The good feeling he’d started to have about her was quickly evaporating. When was he going to learn? When would he stop being such a chump?

The magical compunction was starting to wear off. He was tired and he was angry and he’d had enough. He knew he couldn’t outrun them, so he stopped, turned to face them, and waited. He looked to see what Dusk had given him; a little golden ball. He contemplated it for a moment, then knelt and buried it in the sand near a withered stick of a bush.

The leader rode a white horse and wore armor that flashed in the sun. Several other horsemen rode with him, but he was also accompanied by a handful of figures on foot. When they got a little nearer, he recognized the golden cupid-things. They ran in advance of the horses, incredibly fast, almost like hounds. They reached him first, and circled him, staring at him with those weird, metallic eyes.

The horsemen arrived a few minutes later. To his dismay, he saw Dusk was with them, tied hand and foot and slung across the saddle horn of the leader.

The first time Errol had seen Dusk, she had been in armor, and he had assumed her to be male. It was dumb assumption, and he had become much more careful since then. This armored character had fine features and high cheekbones—not unlike Dusk—and a shock of blond hair. His—her?—skin was dark, almost black. Could be a man or woman and the armor wasn’t much help. He or she had a forehead mark too, a little golden dot with a bunch of swirlies radiating out from it, like a kid’s drawing of the sun.

“My name is Errol,” he said, standing as tall as he could. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“I’m not supposed to be anyone,” the rider said. “I am Hawk.”

“That’s great,” Errol said. “You’ve got my friend there. How about you give her back?”

Hawk looked amused.

“Your friend, my sister. Who has more right to her?”

“No one has a ‘right’ to her,” Errol said. “You’ve got her tied up. Untie her and—wait, did you say ‘sister’?”

“Yes,” Hawk said. “That makes me her brother. Is that too complicated for you?”

“No,” Errol said. “But how can you treat your own sister like that?”

“I have several sisters,” Hawk replied. “Some I like, some I do not. Dusk is not presently in good favor with me.”

“Oh, uh-huh,” Errol said. “I guess I can understand that. She cut off my leg once. But still, I need you to let her go.”

Hawk stared at him for a moment like he was something gross he’d found on his shoe. Then he shrugged.

“I was curious,” he said. “I wondered who she might have tricked into becoming her ally. I am curious no longer.”

“I’ll fight you,” Errol said.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Fight you. For her.”

“You’re joking, I assume?” Hawk said.

“Not a bit, you cowardly jerk.”

“You have no sword. No armor.”

“Don’t need ’em to take down a creep like you,” Errol said.

Hawk glanced around him, then shrugged. He dismounted and began taking off his armor. Then he removed the padding underneath, until he wore only a white loincloth. Stripped down he looked like a bodybuilder.

“My man will blow the horn as a signal for us to begin,” Hawk said. “Agreed?”

“Just let’s do this,” Errol said.

Hawk nodded. The horn blew.

The other boy moved so fast Errol almost didn’t have time to respond at all. He caught the first punch on his forearm; the next hit him hard in the chest and sent him staggering back. Hawk kept on coming. Errol set his feet and swung, but his opponent ducked and popped him in the chin. He tasted blood and again retreated.

Errol feinted with his left and followed through with his right. Hawk blocked him and returned a cuff on the side of his jaw. Errol saw spots, but not so many he couldn’t see the other guy winding up to finish him off.

Ignoring the punch coming his way, he let fly at Hawk’s chin. He connected so hard it felt like his fist was broken. Then his head seemed to explode.

The next thing he knew he was lying in the sand, staring up at the blond-headed boy, who was wiping blood from his nose.

“Okay,” Errol said. “You give up yet?”

Hawk turned and walked away. As Errol tried to get back to his feet, he saw two of the cupid-things helping the other boy back into his armor.

“We fought,” Hawk said. “You did well. But you lost.”

“Just—let her go,” Errol said.

“Sorry,” Hawk said. “No.”

“I’ll find you,” Errol said. “I’ll come again.”

“I know you would,” Hawk said, as he mounted his horse. One of the golden boys stepped forward, lifting his bow.

By that time, Errol had managed to stand.

The arrow knocked him back down again.

He lay there, staring up at the sky and at the feathered stick in his chest. He dimly heard the horses start off.

The bright sky began to darken, as if night was finally falling. But the sun was still where it had always been.

Finally, something blocked out the sun itself. A human shape. A woman.

“No,” he said. “No.”

Her face was in shadow; he could not see it. And he knew if he did see it, he was done. It was over. She had come for him again, and this time . . .

“Hush,” the woman said.

That was a surprise. He had seen Death coming before, but never heard her speak.

Renewed pain shocked through him. He felt dizzy and, at last, the light of the endless day went away.

The light returned, but gently, along with a familiar sweet-sour taste on his tongue.

He remembered the pain, then, and sat up, clawing at the arrow in his chest. But it was no longer there.

Lotus sat a few feet away, cross-legged. She had a pillow on her lap with a board and paper on it and was busy with her ink pen.

“You should finish that,” she said. “You were a lot closer to dead, this time.”

She nodded at the red fruit lying next to him on the blanket. He and Lotus were in the shade of a large palm next to a stream. Not far away, the broken towers and eroded walls of some ancient city lay half-buried in the sand.

He picked up the pomegranate and began plucking out the seeds, which looked like garnets and tasted like heaven. With each bite, he felt a little better. He remembered a long time ago, when his father had brought him a pomegranate and showed him how to eat it. It wasn’t simple, like eating a grape. It took patience, and a little problem solving to sort through the bitter white membranes that kept the seeds in their neat layers. It took time, but it was worth it. You could spend an entire lazy summer afternoon reading comic books and eating a pomegranate.

“That’s the last one,” Lotus said. “Try not to get killed again.”

“I thought you’d left,” he said.

“I started feeling bad for you. I knew there was no way you could escape them, not without Djinn. I even told you so.”

“You didn’t tell me you could also rescue Dusk,” he said.

“No,” she said. “I didn’t. I don’t like her. But then I felt bad, so I came back to look for you. I saw Hawk hunting and followed him to you. I think you ought to be grateful, rather than nit-picking.”

“You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. Things haven’t been going my way lately.” He picked out a few more seeds.

“I guess you saw they caught Dusk, too,” he said.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Lotus said. “And the answer is no. We could have helped her just after you set me free, especially as Hawk was away. If my Djinn and I go back now, we risk being captured, and that won’t do.”

“I have to go back,” he said.

“I figured that,” Lotus replied. “So I sent Djinn for some things. But consider, for a moment. Must you return for her? You can go with me and help me rule my kingdom. Or I could take you home, back to this girl you say you love. Dusk and Hawk are my cousins; since the curse came, and our parents became . . . less . . . they and their other siblings have done nothing but quarrel and fight for supremacy. What is that to you?”

He thought about that for a moment as he ate more of the fruit.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe nothing. But I feel responsible.”

“I don’t see why,” she replied. “Look, there is Djinn.”

He followed her gaze and saw a dust-devil moving across the sand toward them.

“Did you, what, find him in a bottle?”

She looked puzzled, obviously not getting the reference.

“No,” she said. “He was my bodyguard, before. My dearest friend and protector. When the curse came, most of the adults went into the tombs. Others became ghuls or peris or ifreets. He became a djinn—I think so he could continue to protect me, although he does not remember our lives before. Even to say his real name causes him pain, so I do not speak it.”

“Oh,” Errol said, at a loss for words.

The whirlwind arrived, then flattened out and dissipated. Before it was entirely gone, he thought he saw a bearded face outlined in the drifting dust. But if it had ever been there, it was quickly gone.

On the sand stood the wooden horse from the carousel—and the pack containing his armor.

He felt a little chill creep up his spine.

“I am going home soon,” Lotus said. “What is your choice?”

“Thank you,” he said. “Thanks for saving my life twice, and thanks for the offer. You’re probably right, I’m being stupid. But I think Dusk needs me. Brother or not, I have a bad feeling about that guy.”

“Finish the pomegranate,” Lotus said. “Then Djinn will bring us some water and sturdier repast. You might as well die on a full stomach.”