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

Chapter Sixty-Five: Gridlocked

Luce.

So it took some time. A little more time than I had hoped since gaining my own separate conscious, a mirror to what I suppose is my... master's. I can feel my own presence only when he releases his aura, and every time he does, I grow stronger, more aware of who I am and what he is. I grew up beside him, evolved out of everything he tried to hide. I am his aura, his power, and he is my host.

Creepy, isn't?

At least, it is to him. I'm fine with it. Hate my name though, hate that he keeps trying to push me out. Wish his conscious would die already from the shock. Stubborn thing though. I can hear him, even now, can feel him struggling to hold me back. He has such a hold on me that his—my—body, has gone into such a state I can hardly move. Storm and Juniper looking on at me, pale-faced. Their expressions match, equal parts horror, equal parts guilt, like they knew this would happen. Guess they thought their little boy would be strong enough to resist me, and oh ho, they were wrong.

Out, out, out, out, OUT! 

You had your turn. You're the puppet now, and I'm the puppet master. Get over it.

What do you want?

I shrug. It's the first physical action I've been able to make, and a shiver of sheer elation rushes down my spin. My spine. I have one of those, and a body too.

Don't rest easy back there, I tell him, everything you did, from trying to kill Heaven to hurting Jaylin, that was all you. Before you started seeing me in mirrors, I was just some sort of manifestation of your crappy inner thoughts. You want to call me an Id, sure. That's what I was.

And now? 

Even in the back of my head, he sounds impatient. Fidgety really, like he's tapping his foot back there, maybe searching for a metaphorical broom to clear away all the metaphorical dust.

"Juniper?" I have a voice now. A voice. And it's smooth and low and deep, like a melody, rich to my tingling ears. "What am I?"

Her eyes go wide. I smile, a gesture that comes easily to me, even if Angel could never quite get it right. "Answer me." I crack my knuckles. "Or I'll tear you to ribbons." The thought makes me giggly.

Storm looks up, his face weathered and his eyes dull. Frown lines crease his forehead. He looks like an old man, something Angel never noticed. The age of his "parents," the stress. I am their stress. "Angelos?"

"That's not my name."

Juniper's breath hitches in her chest, her face so pale and her eyes so wide she reminds me a cartoon, the things Angel's always been terrified of. The fear is written so clearly in her expression I lean back. Easy, this living stuff is easy.

Let go. I can feel him struggling, a bolt of pain through my neck and skull. Searing white burns my vision in slashes like claw marks. I blink for it to settle, another pain jarring like whiplash through my wings. I jump. Let go.

Tell me, Angel. Have you ever heard the story, about the wolves? I mean, obviously you have since I remember it, but clearly, you never let it go to heart. There are two wolves, and whichever one you feed, you grow. You fed me. I've grown. This is your fault, so suck it up.

And in the back of my head, I hear something soft, something like a whimper. "I'm waiting." I smile pleasantly.

Juniper swallows, glances at her feets. "A-auras naturally develop from their hosts, it's the core to any super's powers." She sounds as much like a textbook as usual, like she finds comfort in her methodical explanations and pretty words.