Damsel[ed]: Some Rescue Required (#2 of the Damsel[ed] series)

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Swordplay

Gats.

 I said I'd get Heaven's suit back to her. How? Beats me. But I'm going to do it. I'm going to get out. I'm sick of people patting me on the head and calling me "cat" and I'm sick of being a prisoner. There's no way Owl's killing Hev, not on my watch, not when I can do something to stop it.

"Oh," Sarah breathes, "cat. You know Galaxy personally?" She cocks her head to the side, tapping her finger around a curl of plastic fixed to her ear. It makes a little staticky sound. For the first time, I notice the mike attached to the collar of her shirt. Some sort of communication device. 

My throat feels tight, like with each breath I'm gulping down sand. "Yes," I say, "and—and, she's really cool. You'd like her if you got to know her." I'm pressed up in the corner, my hands shaky and cold, like there's ice growing in my veins.

I'm stalling for time, clutching the helmet like an extension of myself. My mind's working in circles, plotting and unraveling those very same plots over and over again. There has to be a way out, there's always a way out. That's what they told me. 

Sarah flicks her ponytail over her shoulder and shoots a look at Ivy, who's standing to the side, a hand tucked into her pocket and her shoulders at an easy slouch. She looks almost like a model, her tight dark jeans showing from under her cloak, her white sneakers shiny under the ceiling circle lights. Ivy glances at her feet, flipping up her hood. I wonder what she's thinking. Her face is as blank as a watch's.

Sarah glances back at me and holds out her hand. "Hey, buddy, relax. It's just a display. Make believe." Her eyes flit to the door before she offers me the tiniest of smiles. "If she's really the greatest superhero of the day, she'll escape Owl just fine. But don't tell Owl I said that. She already has her eye on me. Okay?"

I feel my heart clamp up in my chest. She's being kind to me, this woman who works for the living manifestation of evil, and a part of me is almost mad at her for it. I want to feel justified slashing her across the face —and I am justified, one hundred percent so—but that she's willing to say something that could put her in trouble with her psychotic boss just to comfort me makes me feel knotted up inside. So, I suck in a breath and ask, "why do you work for Owl?"

She blinks, the corners of her mouth drawing into a wry, tired smile to mask whatever expression is supposed to be on her face. Her eyes are a dim sort of shadowy gray in the softer light. 

I trace my fingers down the seam of Heaven's helmet. It's a fine thing. High-quality steel, shimmery purple paint that hardly flakes even after being so mistreated. I wonder where she got it.

Ivy turns away and Sarah shrugs and takes me by the elbow. I straighten up, following, not about to let her drag me. My face is hot and flushed from how I've acted. "I didn't really choose to, I guess. I sort of had to. I got recruited."

I nod, pretending to know what she's talking about. Recruited. What does Owl do to keep her followers? I'm more curious than I was ever before. 

As she leads me back around the corner, my eye follows the sword resting so neatly on the display case. My stomach flips. I don't want to look at it. I want to pretend I never even saw it.

As a kid, I kept the stats of all the old Starlight superheroes in my copy of 'The Great Gatsby,' and I memorized every single one on the plane to Starlight. Jupiter. He swung his sword at over three hundred miles a minute. Insanity. Pure impossible, unnatural, unscientific insanity. To think some piece of him is inside it, the very same aura Angel has...

I want to throw up. I think I'll throw up.

I tug away from Sarah. Ivy signs something, but it flashes by so fast I hardly see it.