Damsel[ed] Rescue Required (3 of the Damsel[ed] Series)

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ther seat, watching the world pass as if I've never seen it before. The night sky, spreading forward and backward forever in time, the flash of taillights, the silver flic

rief, tipsy on love. So this isn't the craziest thing she's heard from me. I lean my chin on my hand and sigh. "Like Sailor Moon?" She

loose strands of hair away f

we're heading back into the evil lair of evil people who like

k my smile. I want to forget Owl. Forget what she was going to

sformation scene. With the music and the costume that just sort of grows on when you say the right words. I could just be like

h my skin. I watch the minutes flicker by on the radio clock, and all at once I don't want to investigate. I want to curl

hat's what I am, right? My mom was. My dad is. I was made for it." I'm tired of crying, and yet

hen drop this stuff with Syndicate. We can run away from this. Gats doesn't need

ld, her face is pale. And then I can't even manage a squeak. When

must've fallen on it, or dropped it, or a million other possible things I forgot about. That's the thing about adventure

giving them a new name is jarring. And as soon as I say it, it feels foolish. L

d to find your phone and were about to call me when by a miracle I called you first." His voice is shaking with rage. I fli

He sounds like a different man, his little whisp

never called me 'boy' before either. It makes me shrink back

ou." I soften my voice. "

says with a grunt. "M

irport

ile you're at it. I dou

s goin

ust be on your

akes a low vroom vroom teenage boys are supposed to faint over. I'm more concerned with the build of the car, half-wondering what Hev's up to, half-wondering whether the

pills from the speaker. I jerk back. The phone falls through my knee

south, but stereotypical Starlight shares a few things with the stereotypical north, and fast driving is one of them. "What have you d-d-done—" My voice cracks. A real one,

e polite little chuckle. "Why would I hurt

on!" Jay dives down, wrenches the phone out between the seat and the door, and bobs back up, one hand controlling the wheel, the other holding the phone to her face. Her words spill o

er voice is too soft, too c

have gone white and in the rearview my face is drained of any healthy color. For a second I just stare. The boy with the greasy black hair spilled over his ears and curling up in the back, his one blackened eye, the other hollow, the type you can't read no matter h

ion and wondering what's staring back. My feathers bristle up and my wings ache from being pinned

t somehow, not quite Galaxy's, smooth and deep, not quite Heaven

t part of a love spell

him to

I'm asking her for. Don't do this. Don't let him do this to you. Don't pret

king right! He's going to play with you, H

e." Her voice is cool and hard.

me. "Heaven, Poison sucks. Okay? You know this. I know this. I have to me

on. I redial, my hands trembling with a cold sweat. The car slows and then it comes to a sto

like a sock

ness of the old brick buildings, the dark. And the ste

the eye, the anger still so clear in her expression,

houlders, and steady my breathing. "I'm sure we have a little time for a resc

to be saved. You can only plunge your ha

et her back and meet