Cupid hunts Eros, and vice versa, through the catacombs under, the houses of, and the air above Paris. Being gods, they pass mostly unseen through bone, stone, and steel as easily as air.
They have their bows, their arrows. They fire, they miss, time after time. Eros will almost be pierced, but jinks sharply. Cupid, the same, turns to a mist smelling of roses. Arrows fly wildly all around. A rector falls in love with a nun. A chicken and a pig yearn for one another. A Fiat pines unrequited after a Vespa.
They’ve been doing this for a couple of millennia, off and on: taking breaks from inciting love to play their dangerous game of tag. There’s a reason Paris is called the city of love.
Then it happens. Cupid fires at Eros firing at him. Eros starts to dodge, but too late. Cupid turns to mist, but not soon enough. Impaled, they fall to a terracotta floor, wings just touching.
For the longest of moments they lie there. Then Cupid stirs, sitting up, arrow jutting from his chest. Then Eros rolls on one side, heart impaled.
And they look at one another. Love lights them like beacons. They rush together, opposite poles of a magnet that once united can never again be divided.
From that day, no arrows fly. People, pigs, and Peugeots fall not in love, but like. Perfect adoration is now reserved for the gods.
Edd Vick, the son of a pirate, is a recovering Texan now living in Seattle. He is a bookseller whose library is a stuffed three-car garage. His stories have appeared in Analog, Asimov’s, Year’s Best SF, and about thirty other magazines and anthologies. Edd’s first collection of short fiction, TRUER LOVE AND OTHER LIES, appeared in November 2019 from Fairwood Press. Find Edd at www.eddvick.wordpress.com.
