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

Chapter Fifty-Nine: Surprises

Gats.

"Your supervillain stuff is boring, and you don't have to take me everywhere. Besides, if you get me any closer to Angelos I swear he's gonna shoot me with his bloody mind powers." 

Owl rummages through every room she finds, not just for Curtis, but for something that can be found in a desk drawer. "Those bastards," she swears every time, throwing furniture and tossing over bookshelves. She even tears the carpet off the floor, kicking free wood slats looking for...something.

She leaves me cuffed up as she looks. To a knob, a chest, a chair. She has enough lackeys to watch me without her getting her hands dirty. Tying up human soldiers only takes what? Twenty minutes? Her interest in me leaves me suspicious. 

Owl paces, clutching her hands behind her back. Her armored gloves flex and crunch as she clenches and unclenches her fingers. For the first time, she doesn't look like she's in control. Sweat glistens on her brow, her face paling. "Quiet. You destroying your friendship with my son is no concern of mine."

"It's your fault."

She snorts and wipes away a bead of sweat. "Don't blame me for your mistakes."

"Oh, ho. You're so innocent. Not like you threatened to starve me to death or anything."

Owl touches her chest. We're in a library. Behind us, sunlight slants through the stained windows, casting her in reds and yellows, blues and greens. The bookshelves are rich, stained the deepest shades of mahogany and carved ornately. Volumes, some modern, some crackling with yellow pages, hit the ground as Owl plows through the texts. The emptiness of the massive room makes me shudder and ease deeper into the couch. It's red silk, embroidered with lilies and lotus flowers. It looks as out of place as I feel, what with my ankle hooked up to the leg and all.

She looks up, as if asking guidance from some figure above. "I would've starved to death rather than betray my mistress."

"Well, bully for you." I stretch out, lolling an arm over the back of the couch and wiping my eyes with my free hand. "Except you wouldn't. Starve to death, I mean. 'Cause you're super. You could cannibalize yourself. Or just...not starve. That must be a superpower." 

Owl runs her fingertips over a book's deckled edge. She sighs. Standing there, her red armor blazing in the early sun, she looks like a band of fire. It makes my skin prickle. I don't want to be alone with her. I want to be with Heaven and Angelos.

My heart sinks in my chest. The thought of them feels like a punch in the stomach. This is my fault. Owl made me a puppet and I let her pull my strings. Now, I have to pay for my actions. And for being a jerk about them. This may be the strangest sentence I ever think up, but I really need to stop threatening to stab Angelos.

"They wouldn't keep any information here," Owl says. Her voice is a sigh. She rests her head in her palm, if only for a moment. "Looking through books is like... like looking through the tenth page of Google. Useless. And you're lucky if you don't catch a virus in one of  the pages of bullshit."

I roll on my side with my face tucked into my arm. "You're trying too hard."

"I'm eight-hundred years old, give me a break." She clenches her fist at her side, the only show she gives of her anger. The rest of her is stiff as a reed. With a harsh glance thrown in my direction, she sets her book on the couch arm. "Only Curtis knows," she tells me, as if I have any idea what she's talking about. "Besides, I promised to tell you who your parents are."

"Yes." I sit up straight, clinking my chain. My thoughts wander back to Angel and the hard anger in his face back at the car. It's true, what I said. I hate him and Hev tangling me up in this cursed villainy stuff, and all the same, I care about them. How can I not care about them?