Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 134

**OZ**

Every part of me aches. My back still burns where Kacia’s asshole grandfather slammed me into the stone, and my arms are raw from hauling splinters and brick, little razor trails that sting when I move. The worst of the fire is out, but pockets of heat still crawl underfoot and up through the rubble. Every time I put my palm on a beam to lever it, heat sears through my hand. I just keep pushing. Keep moving. Keep digging like the world depends on it. When Tracey divvied up the search zones he gave the worst ones to him and me, because between a Kakos demon and a vampire, brute force wins. Not that Kacia can’t hold her own. She’s fast and stubborn and annoyingly capable for someone half my size. But I’m built for this sort of thing, and Tracey’s built for speed and endurance that would make a normal human crumble. Clarence… Clarence is a different story. He’s an old man and he’s clearly not well. Stooped, coughing, soot-streaked, and hollow-eyed. If there were any way to make him sit down and sleep for a week I would, but he needs to be here. He needs this as much as the rest of us. The grief looks like physical weight on him. We’ve been digging for what feels like forever. My muscles throb in places I didn’t know could hurt, my fingers are split and gritty, and every breath tastes like ash. I would do it forever if I had to. But the horizon is changing, dark inky sky is slowly changing to bruised navy. I can see the first thin thread of light. Sunrise is coming. It’s not full day, not yet, but the edge of it is enough to make me tighten my jaw. I go over to Tracey.

“The sun’s rising soon.” I say, keeping my voice low. He gives me a look, half annoyance, half ‘of course I know’  the way a person does when you point out the obvious. 

“I’m aware.” He replies, blunt and businesslike, and keeps shoving his shoulder into a collapsed beam.

“I hate to say it, but that means you need to leave.” I tell him. He keeps at it. He’s moving too fast, a blur of motion, muscle and ash and the edge of something fierce. 

“Tracey…” I start. He spins on me, wiping soot streaks from his face with the back of a hand, and for a second the bravado slips. 

“No. I still have time and I am not going anywhere. Not until we find him. You can’t change my mind so drop it!” The words are a hiss, then the facade breaks and his jaw tightens. I see, just for an instant, fear raw and white behind his eyes. 

“You can’t help anyone if you’re dead!” I snap. I don’t sugar coat it. I know what sunlight does to him, a stupid, arrogant vampire won’t be of any use if he fries himself. It’s harsh, but it’s true. He bristles like I struck him. 

“If you think you can scare me into leaving then you’re a moron. I have been around long enough to know what risks I can and can’t take. If I say I still have time then I still have time, damnit. Now stop wasting your breath and my time and get back to work!” His voice grows louder with each word until it’s almost a shout, raw with frustration. He’s stubborn. There is no way that he’s leaving on his own. I fight the urge to grab him, drag him by the collar to the nearest building and bolt the door on him. The thought of breaking his jaw to force him in is ridiculous and somehow comforting. Instead I stand there, jaw clenched, debating my options, when a scream cuts the air.

“Over here! Everyone, NOW!” Taryn’s voice cracks like a whip. It’s not a plea. It’s a command edged with panic. We all drop what we’re doing and run, ash crunching underfoot, dust choking our lungs, the taste of smoke in every breath. Kacia’s voice carries. She’s near, breathless, and then she’s telling us like it’s the most ridiculous thing and also the only hope left. Izzy, of all people, knows where Vidar is.

My heart races as she leads us to where she says he’s buried. Izzy points like she’s pointing to a place on a map. A tightly packed mound of charred beams and stone that looks heavier than the world. 

“Here.” She says, her voice small but certain. We tear into it. There are no dramatic, movie heroics. Just nails that catch and slice, splinters that bite and dust in our throats. Tracey blurs at the edges of my vision, moving so fast the rubble seems to scatter away from him. Kacia is steady and relentless, her whole body locked into each movement, fury and fear giving her a strength that makes my jaw clench. Clarence is slower, but each of his movements is deliberate, whenever his magic sparks, heavy stones grind aside, and when it falters, he drops to his knees to dig with stubborn, shaking hands. Poor Taryn hovers at the boundary she can’t cross, her dress is smudged with ash from the smoke, although compared to us she looks so clean. She paces like a caged thing, wringing her hands, voice carrying sharp through the haze. 

“Can you see him yet?” She yells, her voice cracking.

“Not yet!” Kacia shouts back, she brushes her hair out of her eyes, sweat streaking through ash on her face. None of us stop. A beam of wood shifts under my grip, groaning as if it’s alive. Tracey and I heave it aside, and then we pull one last slab clear. And there he is. Vidar. He’s half-buried. His storm-grey skin is dulled and cracked, his white-silver hair clotted with ash and dirt. One of his wings is twisted into an ugly angle beneath stone and his body is folded awkwardly like a broken marionette. For such a big guy, he looks so impossibly small right now. His grey skin blending in with the stone and ash around him. He looks like a statue someone smashed and left to gather dust. We freeze. All of us. The whole world stops for that heartbeat. He’s so still he could be part of the rock around him. And then, his wing twitches. Just a flicker. The tiniest movement. But it’s enough. He’s alive.

Clarence is on him in an instant, collapsing to his knees with a thud that sends dust up around them. His fingers are trembling so hard I’m half afraid he’ll drop the glass he pulls from the pouches looped around his waist, but somehow he doesn’t. Eyes red-rimmed, face smeared with soot and grief, he yanks open vial after vial with desperate strength. He tips the first down Vidar’s throat, then another, muttering under his breath like the words might anchor the man back to life. For a terrible, endless moment nothing happens. Then Vidar coughs, a harsh, grinding sound like gravel shifting under stone. His chest rises, his eyelids twitch, and then his eyes finally flutter open. The claws digging into my chest loosen all at once, and I can breathe again. Around me, the others exhale too, like they’d been holding their lungs shut waiting for this. Kacia whirls toward Taryn, ash streaking her face, and gives a shaky thumbs-up. Taryn’s hands fly to her mouth before she collapses to her knees, sobbing with relief. And then…Tracey. A hiss cuts through the rubble, sharp and animal. I spin just in time to see him jerk back, his hand smoking faintly where a sliver of sunlight has found its mark through the gaps in the ruins. The awful smell of burning flesh curls through the air. He clenches his jaw against the sound that still slips free, half a hiss, half a groan.

“Tracey!” Kacia gasps, eyes wide with horror. She’d forgotten about the sun.

“You have to go. Run!” Her voice is high and panicked, raw with the kind of terror that doesn’t plan ahead. I frown. It’s too late. The sun’s here. And what the hell does she think he’s going to run to? The closest building is rubble. The car park’s open air. He might make it to the other side of the street, but daylight is spilling faster with every second, and even Tracey’s speed can’t outrun the sunrise.