Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 11

**OZ**

A few minutes later, Kacia emerges from her bedroom. She’s traded the pyjama shorts for fitted black yoga pants and pulled on a long grey winter coat that swishes around her legs as she walks. The coat’s oversized on her frame, but she wears it like armour. Her hair’s been redone too, the same style as last night. With two tight braids falling neatly over her shoulders. It's practical, clean... And now I know, strategic. It hides her ears. The same beanie from last night is also tugged low over her head, pushing the illusion a little further. Her eyes are back to that intentionally dull shade of brown, thanks to the contacts. The only trace of her real colouring is at the very ends of her hair, where the ends are still a bright purple that refuses to be completely hidden. I kind of miss the violet. In her eyes especially. They suited her, sharp and strange. The brown makes her look more… Ordinary, and Kacia is anything but ordinary. Still, she looks… Adorable. There’s no other word for it. Adorable. And yet, I know there’s danger, too. It’s not overt, not loud. But it’s there. It clings to her, just under the surface. The thing is, if I hadn’t seen her in action last night, I would never have imagined it. She looks so… Sweet. But I’d bet my left horn she’s got at least two blades tucked under that coat of hers. It’s an odd thought. She’s basically the opposite of me. I lean into threat, my size, presence, the nightmare effect my kind are known for. Rather than fight, I want people to be afraid. To hesitate. Most of the time they assume I’m more dangerous than I actually am. (Not that they’re wrong, but still.) I’ve always relied on fear to buy me time or to avoid the fight entirely. Kacia? She hides in plain sight. Folds herself into the background. She looks like someone you’d sit next to on the train because she looks so harmless. And then she strikes. I can’t even imagine moving through the world without people giving me space.

“READY!” Kacia announces cheerfully, hands on her hips. Her voice is bright, far too energetic for what I assume is still morning. Except, no. I glance toward the window. It’s not morning is it? It’s almost lunchtime. Right… I’m the one who slept the morning away.

Mike steps out of the kitchen, his arms crossed and one brow arched like he’s preparing for some kind of an interrogation.

“Kaci.” He starts, his tone sharp and serious, deadly serious. 

“Why is your fridge filled with blood? Is there something I should know about?” He demands. I tense up immediately. The way he says it, it sounds like an accusation. I straighten instinctively, already running through how I’ll explain it. It's MY blood, after all. If anyone’s in trouble here, it should be me, not her. I can’t let her get in trouble for saving my life. My mind is running a mile a minute. I’m tempted to lash out at his guy. Get him before he can get me. I could return to my natural form, let my nightmare effect scare him shitless. I bet he wouldn’t dare say a word then. But Kacia? She doesn’t even flinch. She just rolls her eyes and waves a dismissive hand at him like he’s an annoying bug or fly.

“Obviously, Mikey. I decided that since I couldn’t catch the Drainers for you, I should just become one.” She flashes a mischievous grin. 

“Those vials of blood are my new product line.” She declares, smirking. Mike stays stone faced, his arms still crossed, not reacting. He’s good at this. He’s clearly done this before. He doesn’t blink until she relents.

“Okay, okay, it’s fine. You don’t need to worry.” She says more seriously, but still entirely too casual. 

“Oz here got attacked and drained pretty badly. When I pulled him out, I grabbed the blood. Like hell was I gonna leave it behind for those creeps to profit off. But it IS still worth a lot, so Oz is gonna sell it. No point wasting perfectly good demon blood.” She reasons with a shrug. 

“Especially if it’s already been stolen. It’s not like we can just... Pour it back into him.” She adds. Her tone is light, almost conversational. Like this is a totally normal thing to chat about in a kitchen. Maybe it is for them. I don’t know what their version of normal looks like. Mike keeps his serious face on for another beat. Then I see it, the twitch at the corner of his mouth. The amusement behind the stern expression. He’s not angry. He was never angry. He’s not even concerned or suspicious. Curious at most. I definitely misread that one. Also, when did she start calling me Oz?

“Oh good.” Mike says smoothly. 

“I’d HATE to tell Sarah we need a new godmother because you’ve suddenly decided to lean into your terrifying, devious side.” He replies. Sarah? Who the hell is Sarah? I frown. I’m clearly missing something important, and before I can ask, I glance at Kacia. She’s frozen in place. Mouth open, eyes wide. Shock written across every inch of her face.

“Wait…” She breathes. 

“You mean…” She trails off. Mike just nods, his grin widening. Kacia squeals, with full body, high pitched, unfiltered joy, and then launches herself at him with zero hesitation. Mike catches her easily and spins her in a circle, both of them laughing. They’ve done this before. Probably a lot. There’s a rhythm to it, something comfortable and familiar.

“I’m so happy for you!” Kacia cries. 

“Sarah’s pregnant?! Oh my gosh Mikey, you’re going to be the best dad. This is the best news ever!” She congratulates him with complete joy an sincerity. She’s glowing. Beaming. Practically vibrating with excitement. He sets her gently back on her feet, both of them still smiling like kids on Christmas morning. 

“Thanks, Kaci.” He says, softer now. 

“So… You will be godmother, right?” He confirms. She scoffs, hands on her hips, eyes narrowed like he just suggested something absurd. 

“OBVIOUSLY. I’d be insulted if you even THOUGHT about asking someone else.” She says, glaring at him.

Kacia’s scowl lasts all of three seconds before it cracks, giving way to another radiant smile. I find myself smiling too. I don’t mean to. It just... Happens. Her happiness is loud and completely infectious. And now that I’m actually paying attention, it’s obvious, painfully obvious, that whatever I thought was going on between her and Mike doesn’t exist. There’s no romance here. Never was. The signs were there the whole time. I was just too pissed off to see them. Starting with the wedding ring on Mike’s finger, which I somehow managed to miss entirely. The guy’s married. To Sarah, I assume. And apparently about to become a father. Sure, Kacia DOES love him. That much is clear. But it’s not the kind of love I was worried about. They’re family. She loves him like a brother. Fiercely, stupidly, and completely unapologetically. I have siblings, I know exactly how it feels. And the knot of tension I didn’t even realise I’d been carrying slowly starts to ease. Almost reluctantly, like it doesn’t want to admit defeat. Right. Good. That’s one less complication to worry about at least. Although… I have to admit, it’s mildly concerning just how completely jealous I was being five minutes ago. I DO owe Kacia my life. That’s not nothing. But I met her quite literally last night. We spoke for maybe an hour before she went to bed and I passed out on her couch. I barely know her. And yet… I’m getting awfully attached, awfully fast to a woman I was summoned here to kill. I have no intention of following through with that plan, none at all. I won’t be manipulated into murdering a good person. But there is a big difference between not wanting to murder someone and actually caring about them as a person, and despite the fact that I just met her, I am already leaning dangerously close to genuinely caring.