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

Chapter Fourteen: Injury

Gatsby.

It turns out villain politics are much more complicated than I thought.

I find this all out, of course, immobilized on the floor of Owl's lair. She and Rose banter, the two standing just on the edge of my vision, shadowy figures in my peripherals. Rose grips her glowing bat, the red light plunging the room into a hellish glow that just illuminates the gleam in Owl's eye.

"I seized your territory," says Owl. "You serve me, now. I think 'henchman' is a very befitting title."

"Watch what you say, woman." Rose slaps the inside of her hand with the blunt of her bat. "You don't understand how little power you have."

"Is that so?" Owl arches an eyebrow. "You ought to watch what you say. More people I know have gone missing than I can count."

I roll on my side. The knelt henchmen aren't looking at me, they're watching the scene. I hook my claws under my roped wrists. It's pretty uncomfortable, my fingers and arms aching from the effort. The hacking takes minutes, the fibers thick and wound up tightly around my wrists. I squirm, but the women don't seem to notice.

Rose throws back her head, her long blonde hair cascading down her neck. She's young, maybe even in her twenties. Owl looks pretty youthful too, all bright eyes and smooth skin, which she shouldn't. She's the head of an evil organization, and technically, Angel's mother.

If fairy-tales taught me anything, it's that evil people are ugly. Sallow skin, sunken in eyes, voices like knives scraping fine China. But the people here—these horrible people that experiment on children and destroy lives—are beautiful.

"Is that a threat?"  Rose asks, but my eyes are on Owl. Draped in white, a dove as her companion instead of a raven, she looks like the very opposite of the haggard witch you'd expect.

Owl shrugs, her smile sunny. "If you make it so. Know your place, Rose."

I prop myself on my elbow. Strands of rope unravel on my claws, the knots pulled tighter around my burning wrists with my every wriggle. I clench my jaw, staring up at the ceiling. The office is too bland, the people too pretty, and the scent of blood in the air like a condemnation to death itself. I just want to leave. I'm tired of being a playing piece in everyone's game. I'm tired and I'm hurt.

I slash again, hacking through the ropes after several awkward tries. My heart flutters. I tug my wrists away from each other and the restraints fall away. The other villains haven't noticed me. The door, though guarded, is in sight. I can make it if I move fast enough.

Owl points her chin to the ceiling and says something I don't quite catch.  Her dove coos, the trapped creature still watching me. I shudder under its beady little gaze. Rose seethes, her face redder than a cardinal's feathers. "You!" the blonde woman shrieks. I curl my knees to my chest, sure no one is watching me, and rip up the ropes around my ankles. No movement from the henchmen, not a twitch.

The woman swings her bat, the gesture so unexpected Owl scrambles out of range only a second before it comes crashing down where her skull once was. Just watching the two adrenalizes me. The knelt henchmen spring to their feet in a clumsy attention, but Owl freezes them by raising her hand. 

My heart grows big in my chest. I have a chance. If I don't blow it, I can get back home with Angelos and Heaven. I think about how great it'll be, how I'll never leave the apartment, how I'll live long enough to worry about teen things, like clothes and concerts and not flunking out of The Academy.

Rose drops her hand to the inside of her leather boot and pulls out a flash of something silver and shiny. I glance from her to the door, and just as quickly, she slices at Owl's blind side.