Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 123

**KACIA**

At first, I thought Tarish’s list of tasks would be no problem. They all sounded so simple, make a coin, an apple, a glass of water. Imitations of objects I already know by heart. How hard could it be? The answer? Impossibly hard. I can’t even manage the FIRST task. The stupid little clip I’ve carried around for years. I know every dent, every scratch. I’ve fiddled with it in class, in the car, on stakeouts. It should be the easiest thing in the world. But every time I try to ‘focus like hell,’ my mind veers off. I start thinking about Oz, about the party with all the fae, about my grandfather, about whether I remembered to lock the front door and if the oven is turned off. And the second my attention slips, the illusion slips with it, gone before it even starts. It’s maddening! I try everything Tarish suggested. Saying the details out loud like I’m describing it to a stranger. Running it through my fingers, committing the weight and texture to memory. Closing my eyes and picturing it hovering in the air. Nothing sticks. The image wobbles, fades, breaks apart before it even forms. I grit my teeth and try again. And again. And again. The desk is littered with my scribbled notes and sketches of the clip at every angle, as though I can bully my brain into remembering it by force. I even hold it under the lamp, tilting it this way and that, staring at every scratch until my eyes ache. Still nothing. I curse under my breath and flop back in my chair. Maybe I need a magnifying glass. Or a microscope. Or an exorcism for my intrusive thoughts. Anything. But then I remember Tarish’s words. Everyone focuses differently. That I have to find my own way. Maybe my problem is that I’m demanding perfection. The clip in my hand never looks exactly like the one in my head. There’s always some mismatch. Too shiny, too dull, too smooth, too rough. I’ll never get it perfect, because it doesn’t stay the same from moment to moment. So… Maybe the trick isn’t to chase perfection. Maybe it’s to trust that I already know it well enough. To have confidence in what I DO remember. I give it one last long look. Every line, every mark. Then I tuck the clip into the pocket of my hoodie, out of sight. No more cheating. No more comparing. Just memory. I close my eyes. I breathe. I whisper to myself quietly, all of the details. It’s silver, smooth edges, chipped at the clasp, light catching along the curve, a tiny dent here, a scratch there. I picture the way it feels between my fingers, the faint weight of it, the way the hinge clicks when it opens and closes. And… The air stirs. A shimmer. My heart lurches into my throat. On the desk in front of me, faint and ghostlike, the clip appears. Fragile, translucent, but there. I hold my breath, terrified that even breathing will make me lose it. But the second my excitement surges, my concentration breaks. The image flickers and collapses, gone like a bubble bursting. I gasp, half laughing, half choking, pressing both hands to my face. My heart hammers. My cheeks ache from grinning so wide. I did it. I actually did it! For just a second, but still… I used magic! I can’t stop laughing softly under my breath, giddy and lightheaded. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t long, but it was real! I want to tell someone immediately. My first instinct is Oz, he would be thrilled to celebrate with me. He’d be proud. But my second thought hits harder. Mum. My heart warms at the idea of telling her. She’s been my anchor through everything. She’d smile that warm smile of hers, maybe even tear up, and tell me how proud she is. Not because she ever doubted me, or because she thinks that I NEED magic. But because she loves me. Because every new step I take in this world is something she wants to celebrate with me. I clutch the clip in my pocket, grinning like an idiot. I can’t wait to tell her. And Oz… Maybe him too. If the spell’s worn off by now. Only one way to find out.

I push open my bedroom door, ready to go find Oz, and freeze. He’s slumped against the wall  on the floor just outside my door, head tilted to one side, arms folded, tail draped limply across the floor. For a horrible moment my stomach lurches. He looks too still.

“Oz?” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to. I crouch down, reaching for his shoulder. 

“Hey. Wake up.” I say worriedly. His eyes flicker open at once, silver gleaming faintly in the low light. He blinks up at me, groggy but smiling. 

“Hi, beautiful.” He says in a rough voice that gives me shivers. Relief floods through me, so strong my knees go weak. I sink back onto the floor with a shaky exhale. 

“Damn it Oz, don’t do that. You scared the life out of me!” I grumble. He stretches his neck, grimacing, then rubs the back of it. 

“Sorry. Guess I dozed off out here.” He says as he shrugs, like it’s nothing. 

“Didn’t want to leave you alone, plus I missed you... But, I heard you laughing. I take it you had some success?” He asks. I nod excitedly. 

“Yes! I managed it. Only for a couple seconds, but it’s a start, right?” I decide. He nods and smiles. 

“How are you feeling? Any better?” I add, still a little freaked out from finding him passed out on the floor. His smile falters. 

“Better. Mostly.” His gaze dips, flickers away. 

“The spell’s… Thinning. I think. I can keep my mouth shut if I have to, but every word feels like it’s fighting to get out. And most of the time, I still want to let it out.” I really don’t know how much is the spell and how much is just… Me. So it’s wearing off, but not completely. The raw honesty of earlier has softened into restraint, but he’s still balancing on that edge, torn between the walls he usually hides behind and the truth he aches to speak. I sigh, exhaustion weighing down my shoulders. 

“I think I’m going to take a nap. Just for a little while. Practicing magic was… Weirdly exhausting, considering I was mostly just sitting here thinking.” I admit. Oz nods understandingly. 

“Makes sense. You’re pushing your mind in ways it’s never been pushed before.” He agrees, then, with an easy smile he continues. 

“While you rest, I’ll make dinner.” He informs me. That pulls a small smile out of me too. Oz cooking isn’t unusual, he does it often enough, and he’s annoyingly good at it, but the thought still warms me. Before I can thank him, though, he hesitates. His eyes darken, and then he leans forward and pulls me into his arms, right into his lap. This is not a casual hug. Not even one of his protective, steadying ones. This is different. His arms wrap around me with a desperate kind of force, pulling me in tight against his chest as if he can’t stand the thought of space between us. His head bows until his face is buried in my hair, and his chest expands with a deep, shaky breath. His tail coils low around my calf, anchoring me to him. I freeze for half a second, startled, then melt into it, sliding my arms around him and holding on just as fiercely. The ache in my chest sharpens, because this is exactly where I want to stay.

“Just in case I don’t feel that I can do this… When the spell wears off...” He murmurs against my hair, voice rough. My throat tightens, burning. He holds me there for what feels like forever, every muscle in him locked like he’s trying to memorise me. Then his words spill out.

“I might be using the spell as an excuse. And I have no idea if I’ll regret it later. But I can’t not say it, Kacia. I really do love you. Everything I do, every damn thing, is because I want what’s best for you.” He confesses, his voice low and raw. I squeeze him tighter, my fingers fisting in the back of his shirt, wishing I could freeze this moment, wishing he never had to let go. He sighs against me, breath warm in my hair. Another long beat passes. 

“If you don’t leave now, I’m not going to let go.” He whispers reluctantly, his tone almost pleading. It takes every bit of willpower to loosen my arms, to pull away. My chest aches with the loss of him, but I force myself back into my room, shutting the door quietly behind me before I change my mind. And once I’m alone, I press my back to the door, wrap my arms around myself, and try to catch my breath.