Chapter 2

The village was incredible, the buildings laid out in rounds that circled the big well in the middle. In front of the well, and leaning negligently against its stone wall, a man stood near a dais. Next to him were two beautiful people, a man and a woman, both dressed in skirts made of the same blue as the vines in the jungle. The woman wore a heavy beaded necklace that covered the tops and nipples of her breasts but left the sides and heavy rounded bottoms bare. Both had white- blonde hair, almost the same color as Cupid's wispy strands.

The woman's locks were long and straight, the man's shoulder length and tied back. Both wore red and blue tribal makeup, a triple slash of color across their cheeks, eyes heavily outlined in blue. They held hands as they stood nervously staring off into the jungle from the way Cupid's party had come. These must be the islanders responsible for Love. And they were being held captive.

He studied the leader and after only a few seconds, recognition hit him. This was Satan himself.

"Oh," he hissed quietly as he hurried forward. "God, what have you gotten me into?"

"What?" Colin asked.

"Nothing, pretty place, huh?"

"If you like pretty," Colin grumped. "I miss the screams and the flames myself." He flicked a flower as he went by, knocking it off the vine. Cupid turned just in time to see Napoleon pick up the flower, brush dirt off the bright petals and, after sniffing it, stash it inside his jacket pocket, all the while staring with lovestruck eyes at his fellow henchman.

"Cupid, so lovely to meet you." The lord of the underworld was all smiles and gladness as he came forward and shook the small cherub's hand. His white teeth glistened and were absolutely perfect.

Cupid was wary, knowing the devil's fondness for tricks and treachery. "Why are you here, Satan?"

Colin stepped forward, his hand raised as if to strike him. "You will address him as My Lord."

Satan stopped him with nothing more than a look. "Thank you so much, Colin, but Cupid is a special visitor and an emissary from my esteemed colleague. He is to be treated with more respect." He gave him another of those too perfect smiles and Cupid felt his nerves go from on alert to almost over the edge. There was something about those teeth...

"Shall we go for a walk, Cupid?" Satan held his hand out, directing him towards the other side of the village, an area that was deserted except for a small table with two chairs. A lovely patio umbrella in muted greens and blues shaded the table from the afternoon sun. A pitcher of icy tea sat there, moisture dewed on its side from condensation.

Cupid strolled along, his attitude one of nonchalance in the face of the greatest of all evils himself. Inside though, he was as scared as an angel could be. He worked hard at controlling the fear, repeating over and over that a son of Venus had nothing to fear of sin. Love was the greatest of all goods.

Satan held out one of the comfortable chairs and Cupid flew lightly into it, leaning back as if he had not a care in the world. He glanced around at the village, trying to get a detailed idea of what was going on before he talked to king imp.

"I know you want to know why I am here, and why I am slowly killing Love." Satan poured two glasses of the tea, setting his aside.

"Well, you're evil." Cupid shrugged his shoulders as if to say that was reason enough. He stared at the glass, distrust in his eyes.

Satan laughed, delighted with his candor. He clapped his hands once, and one of his henchmen arrived, bringing the male islander that Cupid had seen earlier. At least he thought it was the same. Sometimes, with these humans, you've seen one, you've seen them all. They all look alike after a while.

"Drink that," he said to the islander with a nod of his head at Cupid's glass.

The man looked at the two of them at the table and then reached out with a hand that shook. He picked up the glass and Cupid could hear the ice rattling inside.

"No," he said quickly. "That's perfectly okay, I'm not thirsty at all."

Satan nodded and the islander set down the glass with a sigh of relief. He was led away and Satan turned back to the conversation.

"I need something from God, and you are the only one who can get it for me."

"You NEED something from God? Why does that sound funny to me?" Cupid shook his head in wonder.

"Satan, after all you've done to God, you can't expect him to want to help you out in any way."

"What?" the devil exclaimed innocently. "Oh come on, he can't still be mad about that last argument."

"You call that an argument?"

"Okay, some houses got burned down and... okay dammit, I didn't mean for the entire city of Chicago to

burn. It was an accident. Even Gods are allowed accidents."

"You're a self proclaimed God, Satan. And I wasn't talking about that fire. I was talking about boy bands. Do you know what kind of terror and angst you've caused in the world with them?"

Satan hung his head. "Okay, that one was bad. But I'm willing to bargain for this."

"For what?" Cupid sat forward in his chair, curious despite himself.

"First, I need your word that you'll help me. You are Love's icon, with your arrows and bow and little diaper. You've got to help me."

"I can't give my word that I'll help Satan. Are you nuts? Serving evil would get my wings taken away at the very least, if not get me tossed down with you."

"Ahh, but if you were doing it in the interest of mankind," he grimaced as he said that word as if it were distasteful. "That would be different, wouldn't it?"

Cupid was wary. Satan was a slippery critter in the best of situations but when he wanted something he could be devastating. "Let's say," he said, feeling his way through his words, "I say that I will promise to help you, contingent upon what you want. If you want something that I or God would think of as evil, I will not promise to help. I won't lose my wings because you've got a grudge against someone. Okay?"

Satan glared, the black of his eyes getting darker and more ominous. He hadn't expected Cupid to give him a problem. The little emissary had been his choice because he'd expected an easy answer and an easy solution. One arrow should take care of everything he wanted. He just needed to get one.

"Fine. Now, I will give Valentine Island back to the islanders and allow them to take care of," he grimaced and swallowed noisily, "Love. You will give me one of your arrows."

Cupid looked confused. Satan had the entire Love, what did he need with one of his small arrows that only had been dipped into the potent plant. "Why?"

Satan sighed and closed his eyes. Here came the embarrassing part. He raised his head, barely able to look Cupid in the eye, and said the words quickly. "I'm in love."

"You're what?"

He sighed heavily, rolled his eyes and then looked back at the small angel. "I said, I'm in love."

Cupid sat silently for a moment, his face expressionless. Suddenly, he burst out laughing, tears running down his face as he hugged his small stomach at the humor in what the devil just said struck him. He coughed and sputtered, trying to speak through the braying laughter. Finally, after several minutes of evil looks from the dark lord, he managed to settle down to occasional bursts of giggles.

"Can I ask who?"

Satan sat back in his own chair and sighed heavily, his eyes growing dreamy as he thought of his lady fair. "She's beautiful," he said in an awed tone.

Cupid could think of millions of women who would fit that very limited description. "And?" he prompted.

"Funny. Every time I see her, she makes me laugh." Satan paused, staring at the underside of the umbrella, a lovesick expression on his handsome face.

"Could I get more? Geesh, it's like pulling teeth here."

"She's cute, loves animals. She's smart, really smart."

Well that cuts out Paris Hilton, the Olsen twins, and any number of other bimbettes.

"Could I get a name, Satan? Instead of playing twenty questions, we might get this done quicker so that I can get back to my life and you can make out with your dream girl here."

Satan glared at Cupid. "Can we not talk about her like that, she's a lady."

Cupid held up his hands, patting the air in front of him. "Okay, okay. Don't get your horns in a twist. I'm on a deadline though. So if we could just move it a long a little. Who is she? Teri Hatcher, Pamela Sue Anderson, Charlize Theron?"

"No," Satan said, looking down at the glass of tea he'd poured for himself. He mumbled something under his breath and took a quick look up at Cupid.

"What?"

"Mar..."

"Dammit, just spit it out!"

"Okay! Martha Stewart."

Cupid sat back so fast, stunned, that he almost ripped off his wings. He rubbed the bruised nubs slowly, easing the pain as he stared at the high lord of sin in shock. "Did you say..." He couldn't even repeat it, it was too utterly ridiculous. The woman was old enough to be a grandmother now, and had been in jail to boot.

"I said Martha Stewart. I... I love her, okay?" His fist hit the table, making the glasses jump. His angry gaze settled on a single hut close by and it burst into flames. Before he could say anything, a group of his henchmen ran past with buckets and put it out.

Cupid found himself wanting to laugh. He bit his cheek but the giggles started to rise, making him squirm uncomfortably in his chair. He heard himself snort and bit his tongue hard, hoping the pain would help. It didn't.

"Go ahead, laugh if you want to." Satan glowered, the black in his eyes turning red. "She's a kind, considerate lady."

"So," Cupid cleared his throat, "if she's kind and considerate, and a lady, why do you want her?"

"Do you know the kind of women I get in hell?"

"Well, no. I've never thought about it. I'd imagine you'd get some nasty babes." Images of tall tanned

Dominas dressed in black leather bustiers and sky high stilettos danced in Cupid's head and he felt that strange tingle in his diaper again. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong." He flicked his fingers and a spark shot out to burst into flame on the ground next to one of the shacks. It disappeared in an instant and in it's place was an older woman, her hair pulled back into a knot, librarian glasses on her pinched and puckered face.

"Satan!" she screeched. "When are you getting your fork-tailed butt home? I had dinner waiting for you three hours ago. And what is this, if you think you're bringing a baby into my home you have another think coming. Do you know how much..."

Her tirade faded as Satan sent out another spark. "And that's just my housekeeper. I've been watching Martha on TV now for years. She's sweet and kind and she'll take care of me, not nag at me." He sat forward and folded his hands on the table. "Now, I'm willing to deal. You'll get this island back and we can negotiate the rest. All you have to do is stick Martha with an arrow and make her fall in love with me."

"That's all I have to do? Just stick the Domestic Diva with an arrow and have her fall for the King of hell. Are you sure this is what you want?"

Satan nodded eagerly while Cupid considered. As they sat there, they heard a howl. Cupid's head spun around, searching for who was in screaming, while Satan sat with a grin on his face, his head tilted as if enjoying a pleasant aria that floated upon the air.

"Stop it!"

Cupid watched as Colin streaked past the seated pair with Napoleon hard on his heels. He grinned at the love-struck expression on Napoleon's face as the little man shouted his love to the world in general and to the not so thrilled Colin in particular.

"Je t'aime, je t'adore, Colin. Veux-tu m'epouser?" In his hands he held a bundle of the tiny red flowers that grew around the village. A broken blue vine, old and brittle looking, trailed from his pant leg.

"Make him stop, Satan!" Colin placed the dark lord between himself and Napoleon. "He tried to kiss me, Lord."

"Down boys," Satan said quietly. Both men sank to the ground, their heads bowed.

Satan leaned down towards Napoleon, then jerked back as if he'd smelt something foul. "What is this? You reek of love and emotion. Your heart has become pure." His face twisted in distaste, he sat back and looked at Cupid.

"You did that, didn't you? You hit him with an arrow." He shook his head, his eyes showing how truly offensive he found that. "Oh, how could you?"

Cupid shrugged and smiled.

"What about you?" he asked, glaring down at Colin. "Did he get you two?"

Colin held up his hands as he denied it with a vehement shake of his head.

Satan gasped. "Did you go near the Love? Did you touch it?"

"No, Lord. You told us to stay away." Colin's eyes were wide with fear. Pissing off the Prince of Lies was not a good idea. "I would never dis..."

Satan grabbed Colin's hand, careful to keep the bright red flowers, now growing thickly upon his palms, from touching his own skin. "What do you call this? I don't think this is hairy palm syndrome."

"No, Lord, the girl he was with, she was covered with the spunk from the plant. I must have got it on me when I grab..."

Satan held up his hand, silencing the tirade. He turned and looked at Cupid, staring deeply into the small angel's eyes. "Girl?" he ask Colin. "What girl? Where is this girl?"

"She fell over the cliff, Lord. You didn't see..." Colin slammed his mouth shut. It wasn't good to question the great Lucifer either.

"Who were you with and where is she?"

"She was no one," Cupid said calmly. "My guide through the rocks surrounding the island. And what your man said is the truth. She fell over the cliff when he tried to grab her. I ran to try to save her, but," he shrugged his shoulders almost nonchalantly, even though inside, he was hurting, "she was gone."

Satan's eyes narrowed as he stared into Cupid, searching for the truth. "God sent a nothing girl with you as a guide? That isn't like him."

"Do you want this deal or not? Because if not, I'd really like to get out of here. This really isn't my idea of fun, I mean, look at my diaper, it's filthy. I haven't had a good cup of coffee all day, and dealing with the devil is a sure way out of my wings and into hell. So, make up your mind, am I going to check things out with the big man, or are you going to kill off love and give me a vacation for a few years until God sets up shop somewhere else?"

Cupid watched Satan's eyes, seeing them turn red as he talked. By the time he was through, Lucifer's hair was standing up, his scalp burning. And for some reason, Cupid wasn't afraid. He cocked his head to the side and smiled innocently. "Problem with that?"

"I could have you flayed alive for all of eternity," the archfiend said, his voice rumbling out of a throat not human. "I could call down the ravens and have them pick your flesh clean over and over til the world's end. I could give you the tortures of the damned until the sweet sounds of your screams are indistinguishable from any others." He saw the still smug look on Cupid's face. "I could make you Napoleon's butt monkey," he said softly, smiling when the cherub sat up and swallowed audibly.

"No, that's perfectly okay." He sat a little taller. "I'm just saying that you need to decide whether this is what you want to do, and then get me out of here so I can talk to God about what you want."

Satan sat back in his chair with a jerk, straightening his tie and smoothing down his hair that was no longer on fire. The red died out of his eyes, his smile became more gentle, like that of a cat knowing the mouse was getting antsy and enjoying the wait. "Fine," he said softly. "And since this one," he flicked an irritated glance at Colin who still held his hand in the air, like a kid who had to use the bathroom, "lost you your guide, he can take her place."

Cupid shrugged, trying not to seem to eager to leave. Ever since Satan mentioned Napoleon, he'd been watching the man creeping closer and closer to his foot, a lovelorn lustful expression on his face. Maybe pure love didn't work too well on those who were damned.

"Sure, but can we get on the road? I'm..."

Satan snapped and Cupid felt all the air leave his lungs. His feathers seemed to hesitate a split second before catching up with him, and he felt a great heat on his face. Looking down, he could see below the vast torturous plains of Hell with its pools of fiery rock. Screams of the accursed wafted up to him as he sailed high above the rocky ground.

He could see large lumpy creatures with whips curled in their ham-like fists, their arms moving like automatons as they did their lord's bidding. Satan's castle came into view, a huge and brooding place, formed out of rocks carried upon the backs of the eternally tormented. He could see the heavy gates, closed now, and the milling line of the doomed and the damned waiting hopelessly outside.

"You like it here?" he yelled over to Colin who kept steady pace next to him, his flower covered hands held down toward the heat of hell as he tried to burn the love out of them.

"Home, sweet home man!" Colin answered with a grin.

Before Cupid could say anything else, he was flying up a river of fire, feeling as if his skin were being burned off. And then, the next thing he knew, he could feel the sunshine on his face, hear the sweet sounds of birds singing, and water roaring. He landed gently on his feet, Colin next to him.

"I guess you'll get a chance to see a part of heaven. Maybe you'll think to change your wicked ways and stay there instead."

"Are you nuts? All that white and wearing a dress? I don't think so."

Cupid laughed. He started walking, trying to figure out where Satan had landed them, which had to be somewhere right off the road that lead to Hell, the road the doomed who weren't treated to a second chance at heaven, took. The road they were on wasn't very wide, and was studded with potholes, but at least it was a pleasant day.

Soon they came upon a road sign. Cupid started laughing. Of course, the road to Hell would be right outside Newark, New Jersey, a place where the oil refineries' stacks cast eerie lights over the populace and the smell of sulfur was worse than the stench of brimstone in Hell.

He turned in a circle, slowly, until he faced away from the sign. Then he reached out and grabbed Colin's pant leg.

"Hey, you pamper wearing freak, get off of me!"

"Okay, if you want to stay in New Jersey. It probably reminds you a lot of home, doesn't it?" Cupid let go of his pant leg and then felt the steady tug that seemed to grab him from inside. Just as he started to disappear, he heard Colin shout and then grab his leg. The pull took him toward the sky and he felt the invigorating coolness of the blue skies drawing him ever nearer.

"What the fuck?!" he heard Colin scream and knew he was looking down.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" he said, grinning. "Don't look down. Besides, you're already dead, what are you so worried about?"

They landed softly in front of huge silver gates that were closed with a pearly lock. An angel, silver hair shining in the bright light, robes of such gossamer white they hurt the eyes, strode towards them.

"Cupid, my boy. How are you today?"

"Peter," Cupid said, nodding his head in greeting. "This is..."

"Colin Murdoch," Saint Peter held his hand out to shake the damned man's. "Sorry about the bad review. I had to call it as I saw it."

"Bad review?"

Cupid elbowed Colin in the knee cap. "Let it go, Colin, just let it go."

Peter was looking at his hand that Colin had just released. It was covered with red dust from the flowers that were still growing thick and full on his smooth palms. "What is this?"

"We need to talk to the head man, Peter." Cupid ignored the man's question.

"He's not available, Cupid, he's uh... doing counseling." Peter tried to hide the smile on his face but it glowed brightly anyway.

"Counseling? Marilyn?" Cupid started laughing, covering his mouth with his hand. "So that's what they call it now."

Peter coughed into his hand and got himself under control. "He did give me a message for you though. He said, if you can get to her, more power to you. Martha has been off of God's radar for a while. She's managed to hide a lot of the things she does from a lot of people."

Cupid scowled. "Okay, so now all I have to do is get past her security. And her new assistant."

"And some pretty big walls and a few guard dogs too," Saint Peter added.

"Three days," Cupid sighed. "I've got three days to save the race of men against the destruction of love and to do that, I have to get Martha Stewart to fall in love with Satan and want to move to Hell. Yeah, my life isn't difficult."

Saint Peter smiled, playing with a key on a chain around his neck. "You know, when you put it that way, I'm glad I got door duty." He waved and headed back towards the large silvery gates.

Cupid glanced up at his companion who continued to gaze around the massive gates and into the Kingdom of Heaven. From where they were at, you couldn't see a lot, just the hint of white buildings taller than the eye could see, roadways paved with gold and silver, and people, or rather, souls, everywhere. Their bodies were encased in a warm soft white glow, their faces more suggested at than having actual form

"Where are the robes, and the wings?" Colin asked suddenly.

"Robes and wings are for the angels. What you see living in there are souls, human souls. They have a huge park for dog souls and cat souls. Wait, do cats have souls?" He waved his hand at the notion. "Anyway, souls are returned to heaven after the body dies. Then, when it's time, the souls return and inhabit another body. Until then, we have to have some place to put them. We tried bottles, but it got messy and then there was the huge scandal."

"Scandal?" Colin asked, looking down at the little angel.

"A bottle was accidentally turned in for deposit. The soul was lost forever." Cupid's voice lowered to a whisper. "That was when God decided that souls should be allowed to live in a manner they had become accustomed to on earth."

"So where do angels come from?"

"All these questions, sure you're not thinking of changing sides?" Cupid teased. "Souls are returned to earth over and over until they have accomplished all they were meant to when God created them. It could be just one lifetime, but usually God makes it many lifetimes and the soul has to learn lessons and remember them in its next life. It's kind of a test. I mean, you wouldn't want a doctor to remove your gallbladder if he'd only read about it, right?"

Colin shrugged.

"Some of these souls are many lifetimes old and others, the really shiny ones, those are new souls. And when they've learned their lessons, God grants them wings and robes, gives them jobs and brings them up to the High Rise. So come on, let's go get your boss his bride."

Cupid had to pull Colin away, careful not to get red dust from his flowers on himself. The dust was glittery and left a trail behind them as Cupid headed for an area just to the left of the Pearly Gates.

"You might want to close your eyes," he warned Colin. Then he grabbed the demon's pant leg and jumped.

Colin screamed and grabbed for purchase. The only thing he could reach was Cupid's diaper, which promptly got caught on his knees, leaving his little tallywacker blowing in the breeze. "What are you doing?" Cupid screamed. "And you called Napoleon sick?"

He was reaching for his diaper the instant they landed, pulling the sticky grimy material back over his little dimpled buttocks. "Pervert," he hissed.

"Geesh, stubby, don't worry about it, there ain't enough there to even play with. A Cabbage Patch doll would be bored with what you're packing." Colin rubbed his hands together, scattering red dust on the ground around them. "Is there any way to get rid of these damn things? They itch."

"I guess you should learn to keep your hands to yourself. Now come on."

They'd landed close to Martha's estate in Bedford, New York, which contained a palatial mansion fit for the Domestic Diva. Cupid sneaked up to the wall, trying to stay out of view of the cameras and out of sight of the guards. Not an easy task with the amount of protection surrounding the twelve feet high walls.

"Come on," he hissed to Colin. He flew lightly to the ground, his wings fluttering madly. Colin climbed the wall, cursing the red flowers with every move.

When he landed on the ground, he brushed his hands off on his pants and then again cursed the red glittery dust that covered the grungy material. He growled at the way it clung, and brushed his hands against a nearby tree, seeing the shiny stuff stick to it.

"Would you stop that? We don't need to leave a bright red trail telling them where we are. Shove 'em in your pockets." Cupid was tired, grumpy, and worried. He didn't seem to be getting any help from management, almost as if God had decided mankind didn't need saving. Maybe that's why he'd selected someone like him and Hope for this impossible mission. All that had been missing was a self-destructing tape recording.

Oh, damn... Hope. When he was busy, he could ignore the nagging pain in his chest that seemed to throb when he thought of her, and of the way she'd looked stumbling off that cliff. He could only hope that her end had been quick and painless.

Cupid pushed aside some low branches and walked to the side of the big, beautiful house. Everything gleamed and glistened in the sun as if it were new. Flowers were rampant, their smell heavy in the still air. Trees hung heavy with fruit, and a vegetable garden flourished just off to the side of the house.

"Green thumb? This lady must have green hands. And all I have is this red shit all over mine."

"Hush!" Cupid hissed, "stop kvetching." He sneaked up to one of the sparkling windows that were plentiful along the main floor and peeked in.

"Daaayuum!" Colin said, looking in. "I made a mint from my bottle caps but this bitch must be loaded. Look at the artwork alone in this room, has to be worth at least $500,000."

Cupid glared at him. "We're not casing the joint, we're trying to kidnap Martha Stewart. Now shut up and help me find a way inside."

They jimmied a door wall and sneaked inside. Cupid hurried through the spacious rooms with their chintz and glitter.

"Check this out." Colin held up a small crystal bowl. "Do you have any idea what this stuff is worth?" He looked around before carefully stowing it in his pocket.

"Put it back. And forget about it. It's just stuff. I wouldn't know feng shui from chop suey. Ask me about romance and love, that stuff I know." He turned and peeked out from behind another beautiful paneled oak door. Suddenly he heard a voice and ducked back.

Martha walked into the room, her blonde hair gleaming in the sun from the windows, a phone up to her ear. "I don't care what the judge said. I am going to that award show if I have to bring half the state police with me." She listened for a minute, her expression irate, and then suddenly she smiled. "I knew you would see it my way. I'll be ready to be picked up on Friday at 9 a.m." She clicked off the phone without a goodbye.

Turning to put it down on one of the gleaming cherry tables, she saw Cupid and Colin's reflections. Her hand went to her throat, and a small gasp escaped her mouth. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"It's okay, Martha," Cupid said. "I can call you Martha, can't I?"

"No you may not, now, get out of my house. I have guards right outside within calling distance. One peep from me and they'll come in here and haul your di... wait, is that a diaper? Why are you wearing a diaper?"

"Shoot her, Cupid. Please."

Cupid lifted his bow, an arrow appearing in the string. He sighted carefully, aiming for the spot just below her slightly sagging left breast. When he let the arrow go, he said a prayer that it would wing straight and true. And potent, he thought, as it struck.

Martha let out a small shriek as the arrow sailed toward her. Before she could move, it hit and sunk deep, disappearing inside her without a mark to either clothing or skin. She stood stock still, her body rigid for an instant while the love in the arrow flowed into her system.

Colin nudged Cupid. "How come Napoleon had a hole in his clothes?"

"He's damned. Martha? She's just demented."

"Cupid, my friend." Martha came over, holding her hand out in a wonderfully welcoming gesture. "You and your friend must sit and relax. Give me a few minutes and I'll run out to the kitchen and fix something wonderful for you." She dragged the protesting cherub to the sofa and pushed him onto it. It won't take anytime at all, I think I have lamb medallions in the freezer. With asparagus and shallots, and this delicious shitake cream gravy. How does that sound, boys?" She gave them her patented camera smile, her white teeth shining brightly. "We could start out with some warm goat cheese toast, fixed with rosemary, walnuts and honey. Oh, it's a good thing."