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

Chapter Sixty-Two: Escape

Angelos.

They left me to die and rot of boredom.

Not that focusing and straining aren't distracting enough—they are, believe me—but Owl, Gats, Juniper, and Storm are inside, and I intend to find them.

I close my eyes and lean against the rail, aura pulsing through my veins and pounding in my ears. Telekinetically, I tear off my collar into thin, even strands and wrap my right hand. It's all a trick of visualization, a force or sheer will power. I can feel Luce with every thought, like a shadow over my conscience. I don't have to worry about the heat because I'm suddenly very, very cold.

Luce and I are getting along. It's a struggle, but I need him to keep up the barrier, and he needs me not to shut him off. And it's creepy, don't get me wrong, sharing your body with an entity that is the literal embodiment of all your worst thoughts, of all your dirtiest sins. One day I'll be able to push him out, but now, he's how I keep the hostages alive.

And you're how I help Owl win.

And it works, okay? I can't help the creature crawling around my insides, the same why you can't help the filth in your browser history. They're a part of us. Yours just isn't sentient.

I close my eyes once more for focus and weave my wings free of their ties. Thick ropes fall way at my heels. In the back of my head, the throbbing pain of energy strain keeps me awake. Another hour of keeping this up and my skull will explode.

But I don't intend to play along for another hour.

I throw myself over the balcony and hook my hands in the rails. Metal rubs the pads on my fingers, but the thick fabric cushions the joints enough to ease the burn. My wings dangle from their blades. I can feel the electricity pulsing through the nerves, popping with new and random twitches. I don't want to risk flight, but scaling walls? That I can do. At least, that I can try to do.

The walls are relatively smooth with few clefts for grips. My shoulders and arms throb in protest. I can't even cross the monkey bars down at the park.lost. But I have new muscle mass now, and as weak and flimsy as it may be, it takes most of the impact for me. Glassy windows line the walls, only three or so feet apart. The trimmed sills are only an inch long, that or less, and my socks are still squishy with blood. It'll be an easy to slip, and with this 'barrier' up, I don't trust my wings. I don't dare try the balcony door either. There must be henchmen at every hall and every window, waiting to snatch me up and play Bounce the Prisoner Off The Wall. And then I'd probably kill them.

So, I close my fingers around the smooth, gilded window trim below and drop. My feet find little traction on the tiny sill and I bash my knees against the glass pane to keep from tumbling. A curl on the trim cuts my hand, but I ignore the pain and the spray of blood. Drapes hang behind this window, so I draw up a breath and move.

As long as I don't attract Owl's attention or fall to my death, I'm golden. I tell myself this, over and over, as I grapple for a hold on the layer of trim and slide to the window at my right. There should be a way to make this easier, telekinesis and all, but I can't think of one. So I glide on, my ear pressed up against the stone, listening with my super senses for the sound of a pulse, a whisper. All that I hear is the crackling of the air around me, the back of my neck prickling with searing heat. One step, another, then another. My socks slide on the smooth window trim, each ragged breath holed in my chest one I pray won't be my last.

At the end of the building, there it is, a window bashed in from the outside. I squint up at the figures on the building above, their cloaked forms silhouetting them like buzzards against the buzzing sky.

I scale the window opposite, vinyl creaking under my weight. My knotted hands flexed over my head, and I set myself flat against the building. The stone feels cool against my back. 

Shifting. Breathing. Laughing. Talking. This is where I need to be. Glass covers the ledge in a metallic, shimmery dust, so I cling to shutter, my knees curled up to my chest. The barrier thins with another crackle. I squeeze my eyes shut and force it to flare, sending a shock of pain up the base of my skull. But I don't allow myself to stop, if I stop, I'll go back, and I need a piece of the action. I need to understand what I'm fighting against. Or for, in Luce's case.

Gasping, I grab hold of the window's arch, swinging. The fibers in my arms pull and contract, giving me one heck of an ache, my fingers slippery now in a coating of warm, sticky sweat.

With an extra squeeze of the trim for luck, I draw back and fling myself in, landing hard in the bristly carpet. My fists pressed into the floor, I sigh with relief.

Owl chuckles, and I rise, my hands cupped together at my chest. "Had to join the party," I say. My head's bursting. Barrier. Barrier. Keep up the barrier. It's all I hear now between my ears, that and my pulse. I can't help a grin as Heaven looks up, Gats looks up. With them looking on, I dip a bow. Despite their wrappings, my hands have gone red with blood. Gats glances at me, his eyes big and round, his face streaked with sweat. Looking at him, I can feel myself slipping, feel Luce peeling away the layers of me.  A smile tingles on my face, one I don't remember putting there. My body is acting on my own. A scream wells up in the back of my throat, but it's smothered. I try to step back, but I'm stuck. Stuck. 

And as I struggle to choke out words, the world falls away in a sweep of stars and darkness. 

***

Sorry for such a short chapter! It just felt like such a natural stopping place, as the next chapter will be much longer. Have a nice night :).