Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 135

**KACIA**

I am completely freaking out. What the hell! Why didn’t Tracey say something earlier? He had to know he was in danger the second the sun started coming up. And then it hits me, of course he knew. Of course he didn’t say anything. He was too busy worrying about Vidar to care about himself. Typical Tracey. Selfless in the most ridiculous, infuriating way possible. I bet that if he survives this he is going to lord it over all of our heads until we’re ready to kill him ourselves… But seriously, I cannot take this level of stress. I haven’t even processed the first insane thing that happened tonight, much less everything that’s come crashing down afterwards. My brain feels like it’s been hit by a freight train full of fire and rubble. When this is all over, I am seriously going to need to curl up in a tiny ball and just dissociate for a few hours… Maybe a few days. Preferably with Oz beside me if I can convince him to cooperate with that. But right now… Tracey. He thrusts out his hand. 

“Keys.” He snaps, urgent, like I should’ve read his mind already. I fumble in my pocket and toss them at him without hesitation. In a flash, he’s gone, a blur of movement streaking toward Sarah’s car. I brace for screeching tires, for him to rip off into the distance like some kind of desperate getaway driver. Instead, to my utter shock, he pops the boot, climbs in beside all my junk, tosses the keys to the floor, and slams it shut from the inside. He just… Locks himself in the trunk like this is the most normal solution in the world. I blink. Once. Twice. My brain stalls. Oz is staring too, jaw literally hanging open. 

“Well… That’s one way of doing it, I guess…” He mutters, sounding almost impressed and horrified at the same time. Before I can even think of something sarcastic to say, a wet, rasping choke rattles out from the rubble behind us. My heart leaps straight into my throat. Vidar. All of us snap our attention back to him at once. 

“Vidar? Are you okay? Can you speak?” I ask softly, leaning closer. He coughs, chokes, then manages a rasp.

“Is… Is everyone… Okay?” He croaks out painfully. I fight the urge to shake him. 

“Yes. We’re all fine. You’re the one who’s half-dead this time, you big dummy. You scared us! And you made Taryn cry.” I complain. At that, he jerks upright slightly, panic flashing in his stone-grey eyes, only to groan in pain immediately after. Clarence scowls and whacks him across the head with surprising force.

“Lie still, you idiot. You’re injured.” He snaps hoarsely, though the effect is ruined by the tear-streaked ash plastered all over his face.

“Uh… Clarence? Maybe don’t hit him.” Oz comments dryly, one brow raised. But Vidar’s still straining, trying to look around, searching the edges of the ruin, probably for her.

“She’s fine, Vidar. Just worried.” I reassure him quickly. That seems to ease him a little. He sinks back, though the tension never leaves his frame. He looks tired, more than tired, hollowed out.

“I failed.” He rasps at last. His voice is low, hoarse, weighted with despair. I frown. 

“Failed… Failed what?” I ask, confused. 

“It was my job to protect the library. I was bound to it… And I…” His voice cracks, words breaking apart. Clarence’s whole body stiffens, as though someone struck him in the chest. Relief is there, yes, Vidar is alive, but it’s tangled with fury and grief, so much he can’t keep it in. His hands shake as he wrenches out another vial and presses it to Vidar’s mouth, tipping the glowing liquid down.

“Don’t you dare tell me that.” Clarence spits, his voice ragged, breaking on the words.

“It’s true.” Vidar whispers, barely audible. And I absolutely lose it.

“STOP IT! STOP SAYING THAT! YOU DON’T GET TO BLAME YOURSELF!” The words rip out of me, sharp and shrill. My voice is so loud it cuts through the smoke and the rubble. Everyone freezes, Oz stilling mid-step, Clarence clutching the vial, even Izzy watching me with wide, ancient eyes. Vidar blinks at me, struggling to sit up, like he needs to see me say it. 

“Kacia…” He starts weakly, but he doesn’t finish. Because Oz is suddenly right there, close enough that I feel the heat of him through the grime and ash. He wipes at my face, and I realise only then that tears are spilling hot down my cheeks. He pulls me into his arms without asking, tucking me against his chest like he can shield me from everything. 

“S-Sorry.” I mutter, my voice breaking. 

“It’s just… You didn’t light the library on fire. My grandfather did. If you think you’re responsible for failing to stop it then you’re insane. If anyone here has any responsibility it’s me. I’m the one he was after…” I trail off miserably. Oz’s grip tightens. His voice is low, steady, impossibly gentle. 

“Princess, that’s not fair. You’re not responsible. None of this is your fault.” He tells me. I shrug faintly against him, not really believing it. He can say that all he wants, but look around us. The library is a ruin, its remains still smouldering. Tracey is literally locked in the boot of Sarah’s car to survive daylight. Oz himself is bruised, scraped raw, his face tight with pain he hasn’t admitted. Vidar is half-dead in the dirt. Clarence… Damn it… Clarence looks broken, his heart crushed beyond repair. How am I supposed to feel anything but guilty when the people I care about are hurting because of me? Vidar sighs suddenly, the sound long and heavy, dragging out of him like stone grinding down. His eyes flutter open again, fixing on the empty horizon.

“So… The library is really gone.” He murmurs. 

“Completely gone?” He says again, as if he barely believes it. Clarence’s jaw locks. He gives one stiff, brutal nod. Vidar frowns, confusion flickering across his face. 

“And… I’m alive. That’s… Interesting…” His gaze drifts downward, thoughtful. 

“I’m a gargoyle. Can I be bound to a building that doesn’t exist? And if I’m not… Does that mean… I can just… Leave?” He asks. His words hang there, strange and heavy in the morning light.

We all just sit there, dumbfounded, like Vidar’s question knocked the words right out of us.

“Uh… Maybe?” Oz finally says, sounding both hesitant and weirdly impressed at the idea. Vidar groans and shifts, trying to sit up again. Clarence’s frown could crack stone. 

“What are you doing?” He demands, voice sharp with fear disguised as anger.

“Only one way to find out if I can leave…” Vidar mutters, stubborn as ever, struggling to push himself upright. Obviously seeing he can’t be stopped, Oz carefully releases me from his arms and steps forward. He gets under Vidar’s arm and hauls him up, half-carrying the massive gargoyle to his feet. It’s not graceful, Vidar is a mess. His wings hang limp, one of them bent at an ugly angle that makes me wince just to look at. His skin is mottled with bruises, cracks running faintly along his arms and jaw. Every movement drags a groan out of him. And yet, even through all that, he’s clutching something tightly in one hand. A book. Its cover is singed at the edges, the spine blackened, but it’s somehow still whole. Izzy notices immediately. Her little hands clap together in delight, curls bouncing. 

“The book is okay!” She crows cheerfully. Seriously? No concern for the nearly-dead gargoyle? Just the damn book? I brace for Vidar to be offended. But instead, he chuckles, low and warm, before the sound breaks into a pained groan. 

“Of course I protected your book, Izzy. I promised to finish reading it to you, didn’t I?” His voice is soft, sincere, like he’s talking to someone precious. Izzy gives a satisfied little nod, then narrows her eyes, suddenly serious. 

“That book is all that’s left of the library. You better protect it.” She orders. 

“I will.” Vidar answers, earnest, his gravel-deep voice carrying a vow in it. 

“Good.” Izzy says, folding her arms. 

“And… Stop dying. I need you to turn the pages and read to me.” She grumbles. This time, despite everything, despite the burns, the bruises, the wreckage, Vidar’s smile is real. 

“Of course.” He promises.