Page 8 of Leda's Log

“I’ll do it,” Leila said, hurrying toward the machine. She frowned. “Leda, did you really have to use so much tape?”

I shrugged. “I wasn’t sure how well it would hold.”

“Too well,” Leila growled, tugging at the tape.

“Here,” Basanti said, cutting through the tape with her knife.

Working together, the two of them quickly got the machine back up and running. There was a rustling noise, like someone crinkling up a piece of paper into a ball, then more smoke animals appeared.

And, oh, boy, there sure were a lot of them. They were all around us.

Which left me with only one option.

“Stop.” Nero caught my wrist. “Before you do something reckless.”

“Such as?”

He considered my question for a moment before he said, “Tying up all those monsters in duct tape.”

His comment made me laugh. Thatdidsound like something that I’d come up with. But I played it cool anyway.

“I would never do anything of the sort,” I said earnestly—or at least half-earnestly. “But I suppose you have a better idea?”

“Naturally.”

“I’m all ears, General Smexy.”

I never got to hear Nero’s brilliant idea. His words were cut off by a loud, shattering noise. And then a woman with a stylish high ponytail as black as her leather armor crashed through the window, gliding in on bright white wings.

At first, I thought it was Nyx, here to save our bacon, but her face was all wrong—at least what I could see of her face through her eye mask. And, come to think of it, Nyx didn’t wear masks when she went into battle. As far as I knew, no one at the Legion did.

The mystery woman pulled her arms apart, and a bow suddenly appeared in them. It glowed bright and golden, as though she’d woven the weapon out of pure light. She turned and shot, turned and shot, unleashing her glowing arrows on the smoke animals. Her movements were sharp, calculated, efficient. She moved so fast that my eyes could barely keep up. Her aim was picture-perfect. Within seconds, she’d hit them all.

She didn’t hurt the animals, though. Each time an arrow met its mark, it dissolved into a visual spectacle of light and sound, like little mini magical fireworks. One by one, each animal sat down, suddenly totally calm and docile.

“Pretty!” Sierra exclaimed, clapping her hands. “More!”

“Who is that woman?” I asked Nero. “An angel?”

He watched her closely, analyzing her every move. “No.”

“A god?” I wondered.

“No,” he said. “I think she is something else entirely.”

“Oh, you’re definitely right about that,” the woman declared, coming toward us with powerful, dynamic strides. “Greetings. I’m Cupid. Happy Valentine’s Day.”

CHAPTER 6

CUPID

“Well, this is a mess.” Cupid’s gaze locked with mine. She had a fierce look about her, like she’d been forged in fire.

Hardship typically affected a person in one of two ways: either it broke them, or it made them stronger. There was no doubt in my mind which camp Cupid belonged to. She donned the demons of her past like a suit of armor—no, like a war trophy.

And yet a spark of lingering humor flashed in her eyes. A remnant of her former life?

“You definitely live up to your reputation, Leda Pandora,” Cupid told me.

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