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

ts

f the worn-blue nylon. You can pick him out immediately, even in the gush of nervous people, excited people, people rushing back and forth, packed together like playing cards. He l

rginia is for lovers', but Starlight is a chunk of Virginia, so I don't know if it's okay or not. I even bought Heaven a Galaxy plushie and I give

ugly thoughts, all at once. Owl's complex. My prison. The cage. And before I even approach the boy I have begun to shiver, warmth seeping through my skin, like the heat of the

is happy, cute thing? Do they know she's only s

the walls. Cuts right through all the white noise. My

egun to creep into me. You are what you look. I try to laugh. "Yeah, yeah. New kid!" I wave wild

its contents all over the floor. He stumbles a little, struggles to push the bag over his shoulder, apologizing in

s, drawings in plastic sleeves, drawings held together with strips of tape. Pencil-drawn, oil-painted, chalk-etched. He blushes when I pick

his face. His skinny jeans are splattered with paint. His collar is flipped up, his shirt half-tucked. And mos

head. "Ga

cows a little, and then straightens up, his eyes going round. A sm

re Grayso

n." The Grayson kid clears condenstation from the window, glancing out at the city lights on his tip-toes. "It's amazing, " he breathes. "Just—wow. Thank you

ke Angel. I glan

e question before I need to say it. "

Fal

ere's a second of quiet. We

experime

w, his half smile smal

s, I roll my eyes. You know what makes someone nervous? Being jumped in yo

rt and his white-blonde side-swept hair loose. I bet the Shiro kid is already puzzling over Storm's alter-ego, though we haven't had an adult hero in years. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Storm

nd I don't know what I should think about it, if anything at all, I just know it

"I'm sure he'l

een kidnapped, but chances are, he's alr

Isn't this

just Angel's replacement. And if that wa

away. I lift my cap, showing off my own personal parlor trick. "If y

*

av

go away. But as soon as the phone call shuts off, the knot in my stomach is back, tightening as Poison tugs the black silk ribbon behind my ears. I

ost town. A ghost town Poison keeps asking me if I remember, which I don't. The only familiar element about it is the silver luxury car idling at the end of the road. "They were g

is skin is hot. My face is flushing. "Don't freak out, "

's t

op. The only movement comes from the car. The small figure landing hard from the passenger side. The lanky, Poison-s

loud as Angel. "But whatever, don't we have to ge

s I sacrificed everything for. Poison catches my drift and yanks me through th

n my friends, that I might be acting out of grief, that only weeks ago he called me a "prize." See, I know that to him, stealing me onto his side will prove his worth to Fallout, I know that's why he 'loves' m

e sees Angelos and Gats. Not a person, just a means to an end. But that doesn't stop the chemical flood. Do

n in black hoods, the cigarette smoke filled room, the cast iron tables. You'd think the masked guests would be up to no good, or at least enjoying themselves, b

rhaps a little too loudly, "how many S

gel's all sweaty, his hair stringy and half-drenched in grease. He whirls around and points at me. "Heaven!" His eyes light up. He smiles a crooked, boyish smile. M

do want to talk. I do want to grab some coffee and ramen. Figure everything else. I pull my hand out of Poison'

I want to

lowing. "Seems you've stepped into the vi

by people in black. The woman behind the mic knocks b

s flin

ore like a punch in the dignity. I am an 'i

msy mask, trembling, exhausted, so love-struck and in

sh will b

*

late chapte