Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 13

**KACIA**

I hear Mikey snickering from behind me. The sound cuts through the moment like a blade. I whirl around, ready to set him on fire with a glare. He quickly schools his expression, dropping the smile like it never existed. But I know him. I’ve known him since I was six. He’s absolutely enjoying this entirely too much. 

“Don’t even start.” I warn, voice low and lethal. He lifts both hands in false surrender, completely unrepentant.

“Of course.” He answers, his voice all innocent charm. 

“I won’t say a WORD. I’m just gonna... File that little interaction under interesting developments and move on.” He smiles and I can’t help the pit of dread in my stomach as I squint at him. Damn him. That’s his ‘I know something you don’t want me to know, and I’m going to sit on it until it becomes leverage’ face. And worse, the glint in his eyes says ‘I’m going to tell BOTH of our mothers about this at the WORST possible time.’ I shoot him a glare sharp enough to skin a man, but he just grins wider, that smug little tilt to his mouth radiating pure big brother menace. I turn back, helpless, flustered, and definitely outnumbered. Oz is still standing near the couch, holding up the hem of his shirt with one hand while he tries to awkwardly wrap his tail around his waist like a belt. It’s… Not going well. The tail seems to have a mind of its own, flicking out every few seconds in open defiance of the plan. I raise an eyebrow. Seriously? He has glamour magic. I know he does. He’s hiding his horns just fine, which means he could hide the tail too. So why doesn’t he? Does he not want to for some reason? Or maybe he can’t? I glance at Mikey, who’s watching the performance with a mix of mild fascination and concern. He knows about magic, sure, he’s worked enough cases to be desensitised to the general concept. But he doesn’t usually see it up close. Not like this in a situation where he can openly stare. He’s studying Oz like he’s trying to decide whether to ask questions or just quietly add this entire situation to his mental folder labeled ‘Weird Shit Kacia Gets Me Involved In.’ And then it hits me, this mockery is only going to get worse. I know it will because Oz knows what I am. Mikey, who I’ve known my entire life. Who it took me years to tell. Who didn’t ask until he absolutely had to is NEVER going to let me forget that this demon, this smug bastard with a tail problem and a handful of flirty nicknames, learned my secret in a single evening. Damn it, Mikey’s going to be FURIOUS when he finds out. He’s going to call in the ‘but I’m your best friend’ guilt trip. Or worse… He’s going to assume I actually LIKE having Oz around. My stomach twists as I look from one man to the other. Mikey, the safe, familiar constant. And Ozraed, tall, muscular, shirt riding just high enough to show off the sharp lines of his abdomen, tail curling idly behind him like a satisfied predator. He catches me looking and flashes that same damned smirk, all teeth and zero shame. Ugh, note to self. Don’t stare at the demon’s abs. Or at very least, don’t get CAUGHT staring at them. He’s entirely too smug as it is, I don’t want to make his head any bigger. He won’t fit through the damn door. My stomach growls again. Loudly… Right. Time to focus on the problem I can solve. Screw it all. Let the guys be annoying. Let Mikey make jokes and Oz parade around like the chaos demon he is. I want food and I want it now. Without waiting for either of them to follow, I yank open the front door and step out into the crisp midday air. 

The crisp midday air bites at my cheeks, a welcome contrast to how flushed I still feel thanks to SOMEONE and his endless list of overly flirty nicknames. I toss a glance over my shoulder, voice dry and laced with warning.

“Are you guys coming, or what?” I demand, trying to hide my embarrassment. Oz drops the hem of his shirt with exaggerated innocence, that insufferable smirk already spreading across his face. 

“Of course, honey. I’d love to.” He answers innocently. He practically bounds after me, his long strides effortless, smooth. He moves like someone who knows exactly how much space he takes up, and likes it. He catches up in a few seconds and without asking, slings an arm over my shoulders, tugging me into his side like we’ve been doing this for years.

“Well, let’s go then.” He says brightly, his expression all teeth and amusement. I elbow him in the ribs with what I hope is enough force to express a very clear ‘no thank you’, but it’s like elbowing a stone wall with abs. Oz immediately lets go, but only because he chooses to. Let’s be honest, if he wanted to keep holding on, I’d still be pinned to his side and making small, ineffectual rage noises. Unless I decided to get really nasty and pull out a proper weapon that is. I step away with as much dignity as I can manage. Oz falls into stride beside me, still grinning, the picture of relaxed menace in motion. His tail, thank the stars, is finally behaving and staying hidden under his shirt. Or maybe he finally glamoured it, I have no idea. I'm just glad it’s not involved in this interaction. Mikey shuts the front door behind us, after flicking the lock with practiced ease, and lengthens his stride to join us on my other side. One glance and I know what this looks like to any casual observer. Me, flanked by two tall, broad shouldered men, one wearing sarcasm like a second skin, the other built like a dependable action figure. And there I am. Short. Sandwiched. Gloriously underdressed compared to Oz’s dramatic rags and Mikey’s tactical hoodie. I feel dwarfed. Stupid tall people. I bet THEY can reach stuff on shelves without climbing on the counters and… I don’t know, change light bulbs without balancing on multiple chairs and performing some kind of acrobatic feat, the jerks.

We could’ve driven, but there’s a decent cafe about five minutes away. Mikey and I go there often enough that they know our orders by heart. Actually, he probably went there first. When I didn’t show up at twelve thirty, our standard time when we randomly say we’re ‘going to meet for lunch’ then don’t bother following up by making any actual plans, he would have assumed I was in bed sleeping in late or something and come by my house. Totally fair. I forgot we were even supposed to meet, thrown off by my unexpected demon houseguest. Mikey didn’t bother calling, obviously. He knows I’m terrible at answering my phone. If it’s not a text, I miss it. Half the time I miss the texts too. It’s not just me being bad at communication, though. I used to think it was, but the more I’ve gotten involved in the supernatural world, the more I’ve realised, magic and technology just don’t like each other all that much. There’s a sort of inverse law at play. The more magic you’ve got in your system, the more raw power coursing through your veins, the worse your relationship with technology becomes. Strong supernaturals? Forget it. I once saw a witch pick up a phone and it exploded into sparks. Literal sparks. She barely blinked. I, on the other hand, backed away slowly and made a mental note to never stand between her and anything battery powered. I don’t have much usable magic of my own, nothing active, but I’ve got enough in my blood that electronics tend to act up around me. My phone dies stupid fast, calls drop for no reason, and I swear my GPS has led me into actual cursed swamps before. New cars are problematic too, half of them run on fancy computers these days. Older ones tend to be a little more reliable. I can use tech, it can be a useful tool sometimes… But I don't trust it. And I NEVER rely on it for emergencies. Honestly, I prefer house calls. Real conversations. Direct action. Less chance of magical interference frying my devices in the middle of something important. Add magic induced technology allergy to the ever growing list of reasons why university didn’t work out for me, and why no desk job in the world could ever keep me sane. You can only rewrite a report so many times before you start fantasising about throwing your laptop off a balcony because it died again and your backup drive is somehow mysteriously blank. There’s a reason why the library is one of the most popular local hang outs for supernaturals. Books don’t have connection problems, they don’t mysteriously drop out of range. They just work. I kind of want to know if Oz is able to use technology. He’s got to have more magic than I do. Huh… Well, maybe I can find out.