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

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Villains

Gats.

Swords don't stop bullets. Swords just don't stop bullets. I feel my heartbeat through my ribs. I mean, I know life doesn't stop for saying goodbye, or for dating or graduating. Life stops for stopping.  But as a bullet whizzes by my face, I feel myself tearing.  Powers are things, people are immortal, after all. Why can't I be immortal, then? Why can't I be a real super? The questions blur the corners of my mind. But then it comes to me. Nine lives. I'm a cat. I jerk the sword to the side, flicking the blade. It explodes in blue flames. An aura. My mind tears in a thousand different directions. Speed. Strength. Use the sword, the woman said, use the sword.

I flip, slashing at the blurs in the air. Ping. It's the only sound I hear. Ping. Ping. Ping. I put my trust in the sword, in Jupiter. My heart clenches in my chest. Faster, I think, faster, faster, faster. I let myself twirl, tumble, fly, the sword up to protect my face. The aura flows from the blade, trickling up my arms in a flurry of cold, like ice curling up my veins. The world swishes around me. Slows down. I feel my heart in my throat. I raise the sword and attack. So this is how it feels to be Heaven, to be a superhero. I launch myself into the air and slice at the blurs with the back of the blade. The world is still moving, the bullets still fly, but I'm faster now. I flip back and block hard with furious, sloppy strokes, just praying I keep the gunfire from hitting the escaping guards. Sarah struggles with a door. She pseudo-swears under her breath and rips the brass knob off the plane. 

It explodes open and she drags Ivy through. I hit the ground, gasping for air. My shoulders and arms ache, heavy like they're filled with cement. I can hardly keep them up, my lungs burning like they're stuffed with crackling embers. I could scream. Just keep going, I tell myself, just keep it up. You have to escape. The women race in front, me trying to back them up with the sword, them trying to forge the best path while Sarah dispatches the few people that get in her way. Sweat drips down my brow, my skin hot and clammy. The cat ears twitch madly, so fast they feel like flutters. I'm cutting them off, I think almost out of nowhere, no matter what Angel says about infection. I hate them and they're going away.

We slide through the hall. White walls. White floor. I hear a long sigh. "No one ever learns in this place, do they?" My blade hits the ground, my arms filled with sharp, stabbing pain. 

I can do this. I'm supposed to be able to handle situations like this, and yet, I don't know what it is I can do to do this. Owl leans against a wall, the expression on her face bored, her mouth drawn into a thin line and her dull working eye flicking to the floor every so often. She sizes me up, Sarah and Ivy crouched in fighting positions and ready to spring. It's a losing battle. "What do you think you're doing?" she asks. 

This is for escape, I think, and for Angel and Hev and even the guards. I draw in a shaky breath, lift the sword, and lunge.

Owl holds up her arm. The guards race past her and she doesn't even look up. My sword connects cleanly with her wrist. Slices right through bone like a katana to butter and I see it all in a flash. Blood, twitching fingers, a severed brown hand plopping to the ground. The sideways glance from an amused Owl. I'm about to lose my Hershey bar all over the floor. 

She blinks. Smiles coyly, the type of smile that takes a whole second or two to develop on her face. "You're a determined little one."

"I cut off your hand!" I scream. I'm done. I quit. That should've put her out of commission. That should put anyone out of commission. Why hasn't it? Why doesn't anything ever make sense anymore! "Why are you looking at me like that?"

She snorts, still grinning in a vicious sort of way, one that oozes a sense of victory, like she already has me clenched in her intact hand. I can't take my eyes away. Flesh and vein and bone, weaving in beautiful hexes from her wrist, all coming together in a few seconds to form another hand.