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

Chapter Three: New Kid

Gats.

By the time I've stuffed my soaked clothes in my hamper and scampered back onto the street, Juniper and Storm are waiting for me, half-drenched under their big floppy umbrella. Storm, in his thick black trench, his tie peeking out from the folds of his collar. I've never seen him without his glasses before. I never realized how gray his eyes were. Juniper, in a shoulderless blue dress that looks far too fashionable for her style. She leans up against the Prius, arms crossed over her chest. She sighs at me. "Gatsby, your clothes."

I give myself a quick once over. I'm wearing skinny blue jeans and a graphic tee-shirt of talking turtles. It's the only real tee I've got. The rest are plaids and button-ups. I stuff my hands in my pockets, trying to smile. It's a shaky attempt at best. My brain hurts. I want to curl up into myself and sob. And instead, I grin at them, my stomach all clenched up and my head pounding something awful.

"They're not going to let us in any way. They don't like cars that cost less than houses." My hair is slicked to the back of my neck, the cold seeping through my clothes. June grabs me by the arm and pulls me under her umbrella, splashing me in puddle water that sloshes in the toes of my mud-streaked sneakers. If Angel saw me like this even a week ago, he'd laugh. I'd laugh. I pat my soaked hair against my head, the cat ears lying flat at the touch. My wrists are still pink where the straps chaffed the skin, and my knees wobble at the sight.

"Gatsby, hon, I know what you're feeling," June says, pulling me into a hug. Storm offers me an awkward pat on the shoulder. "It's been so long since we saw our first..." She hesitates.

"Death." I make my voice as smooth and lilting as it will go. I killed a woman. And yet the world still spins and the lights still glitter on the skyline. I should be curled in a corner with my face pressed against the wall, rocking slowly with my hands cupped around my knees. And I was. And all I can see when I shut my eyes is the half-hidden terror in Heaven's face, and the little smirk she plastered on when Owl pinned her. She wasn't fighting to save herself. She was fighting to hurt Owl.

And that haunts me even more than the feel of the sword in my hands or the final, squeaky sound Owl made when she collapsed. More than the splatter of warm blood, more than knowing I ended someone's existence, though the guilt crushes me even now. I had to. It was to save Heaven's life. And yet I wonder, stupidly wonder, if I had any right at all.

I am a monster.

"You did what you had to do, honey. She killed many people, and you ended what would've been a long and blood-filled reign. We're proud of you."

The smile falters. A lump wells up in my throat and I choke back my tears. 

There's silence as the three of us huddle together in the downpour under the folds of the umbrella. Then Storm speaks, his voice as soft and whispery as usual. 

"When Owl had you," he asks, "did she hurt you?"

I lower my head. Tears blur my eyes. I rub my face with the back of my hand. My pulse pounds in my fingertips as I fumble with the door handle. I nod at them with an awkward laugh that breaks at the end with a squeak. "Mom. Dad. I don't want to talk about it. I just want to eat."

They flinch. I see it in their reflections on the Prius's windows.

"If you don't feel like calling us that," June starts, the rain thumping the street behind her, "you don't have to, you know. Nothing has to change."

I'm not listening. I've already propped the door open and scrambled inside, arms wrapped around my knees, back snug against the seats. The cat ears flick flat and pin.Little tremors have crept into my fingers and wrist. I'm hugging myself to keep out the chill.