Damsel[ed]: No Rescue Required

Chapter 19: Into the Devil's Lair

Gatsby.

The villain drags me up several flights of steps. Thump, thump, thump.

This whole 'journey' has been hell. I used every compliment and swoon in the book, but Cat refused all my requests for freedom. Bah. Between the cat-ears and crying, I must've lost my charm.

Heaven's scent drenches my senses, and I tense at the thought of her. What will she think when Angel tells her what happened? And what about him?  When he finds I'm missing, will he know Cat kidnapped me, or will he think I ran away with her?

"Don't try anything, kitten," Cat says, snapping me from my inner monologue, "I'm 'introducing' you to three senior villains. You won't get very far."

I extend my wrists, glaring into the blindfold. "Untie me then."

"You're being counter-intuitive," she says, her voice shaky. Is Ms. Big-and-Bad...nervous? Hah! If only!

"If you don't want me acting up," I try, forcing myself to stand still and not prance from foot to foot like a child, "at least make me comfortable. This stings, you know."

"Right," she says, "sorry, kitten, can't do that. Don't trust you."

I drop my hands. If she saw my glare she'd think twice about that. "You know," I say, "you have a great personality. I bet any guy would—"

"You tried that one already," she grunts, rapping her knuckles against something I think is wood. I stiffen, searching for something else to say.

A deep, masculine voice booms from behind the surface. "This meeting is confidential—"

"It's Cat," the villain says as if the three letter word gives her the clearance to go anywhere.

And apparently, it does. Latches groan, and the woman gives me another shove. My socks catch on a ridge. I raise my hands to break my fall, but they do little good. I hit the carpet with a 'thump', shards of heat slicing my forehead.

I soak in the smell of shampoo, vanilla, and blood. A woman's laugh echoes through the room, a boy's groan slicing the crisp air. My heart leaps. And then it takes off. Where the bloody hell am I? 

"Cat? What's this?" the voice from before sighs. He sounds so aged. Perhaps villainy takes a toll on people.

"Hello, Jacob," she says, her voice so sweet she could be a Disney princess, "this is a project. I picked him up earlier, and I thought I'd introduce you." She yawns. An angry purr rises in my throat. Who are these people? I'm a person, not a science fair display!

She grabs a fistful of hair, sparks of pain rushing through my scalp as she yanks me to my knees. I dig my nails into my palms. My chest heaves and she pulls the scarf away from my face. I gasp, screwing my nose to the spiral of smells.

Caviar. Cinnamon incense. Spices. Sweat. Linen.

I gag, blinking to adjust to the light. The stenches rush over me, and I force my hands over my nose.

A chandelier swings overhead, the opposite wall covered in thick, floral-printed gold drapery.  A single black table spans in front of my eyes. Three people stand behind it, staring.

I gawk. A kid, maybe sixteen or seventeen, sneers at me. He has wings! Long, shimmery white wings that must stretch five or six feet. "Can it speak?" he asks, running a hand through his snowy hair. 

"Yeah, Poison, he talks alright. He's more human than cat, you know," Cat says and 'Poison' rolls his eyes.

The winged dude crosses towards us. A chill spreads across my back, and I tense. I already don't like him.