Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 137

**KACIA**

After collecting my keys from where Tracey dropped them, I tap on the boot of the car. The metal is warm under my knuckles.

“Uh, Tracey? Where do you actually live? And is there a safe way for us to drop you off there?” I ask awkwardly. This is so weird. It feels like I’ve kidnapped someone in a bad movie. I’m also pretty sure it’s illegal to drive around with a person in the boot of the car. But then, he did put himself in there. Tracey rattles off an address without hesitation. 

“When you get there, I can open my garage and you can drive in. I’ll leave my car here.” He adds, voice muffled through the steel. I frown. 

“Why didn’t you just get in the back of your own car?” I question curiously. 

“Because my car is expensive and I’m not letting any of you lot drive it. I saw what happened to your car! Plus, your vehicle was closer and I didn’t want to risk going further.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. I narrow my eyes. 

“What happened to my car wasn’t my fault. Plus I wasn’t even driving it at the time!” I argue. He scoffs. 

“Sure.” He answers vaguely. 

“I could leave you locked in there all day.” I threaten, but my voice comes out more tired than menacing.

“You would feel too guilty. Now drive me home, I’m starving.” He shoots back.

“Ugh, drama queen.” I grumble as I climb into the driver’s seat. Oz is already in the passenger seat, slumped, his head tipped back. He looks like he might pass out, but he’s still too tense to fully relax. I glance at him and catch a whiff of smoke and sweat. We both need showers desperately. I’m so tired the thought of standing up long enough to wash my hair makes me want to cry, but I’ll do it anyway. I start the car and steer toward Tracey’s place. Oz keeps giving me sideways glances, the kind that land heavy with unspoken worry. He has a good reason. Several even. Aside from the fact that someone tried to kill me again, I met my psycho grandfather and he confessed to killing my father. Which… Really sucks. I’ll probably have a good cry about it later. Then I’ll have to tell my mother and have another cry again. She already believed he was dead, but having it confirmed is different. I suspect it will feel different for her too. Eventually, Oz breaks. 

“You okay, Princess?” He asks gently. I sigh, hands tightening on the wheel. 

“Not particularly. I’m pretty miserable. When we get home and we’re both cleaned up I fully intend to curl up in bed and have a good cry. And I’m telling you now that I will be immensely disappointed if you don’t come comfort me because I don’t really care about all the reasons why it’s a bad idea or whatever right now. I need a hug and I need it from you.” I inform him. Okay, so maybe I’m being a little demanding and petulant. But hey, I’ve had a long day. I think I’m entitled to a little selfishness. Oz exhales softly, something between a sigh and a chuckle. 

“You know I could never leave you to cry alone.” He says, his voice warm despite the exhaustion in it. 

“I’ll be there for you.” He adds. The promise settles over me like a blanket, soft and solid in the quiet hum of the car.

I can’t help it, I crack a small smile at Oz, warmth slipping through all the exhaustion that’s dragging me down. My whole body feels like lead, my chest tight from smoke, my head still buzzing with grief and shock. I’m about to thank him when Tracey bangs around in the back of the car like a trapped raccoon, reminding me this night isn’t done with us yet. 

“HEY! I’m still back here, you know! Save your flirting for when you don’t have a captive audience. Also, turn on the AC, would you? I’m roasting back here.” He yells. I roll my eyes so hard it’s almost painful.

“Oz, I think there’s a fly in the car. I can hear an annoying buzzing. Oh well, I’ll just turn up the music.” I say too loudly. I crank the radio until tinny pop fills the car, drowning Tracey out. It’s too loud for how tired we are, but the noise feels better than silence. Silence would mean thinking about the fire, about Vidar, about my grandfather’s voice still echoing in my head. I flick on the AC anyway. I want to sass him, but I don’t actually want him to cook alive back there. By the time we pull into Tracey’s place, the three of us are frayed to the edges. My arms ache from holding the wheel, my eyes sting, and Oz hasn’t said a word. He’s slumped in the passenger seat, jaw tight, fighting to stay upright. Tracey, though, still manages to bang on the boot like he’s drumming for attention, impatient even now. As promised, he hits a button from inside and the garage door creaks open. I roll us in, shut the engine off, and wait for the door to rumble closed before Oz trudges out to pop the boot. Tracey unfolds himself from the cramped space with a groan, stretching his arms overhead like he’s just been locked up for a century. 

“One star. I would not recommend this ride. The seat was cramped, and the driver was a control freak over the music.” He remarks. I blink at him, too tired to hide the flat disbelief on my face. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not an Uber. You were the stowaway.” I say flatly. That gets the faintest crack of a smile from him, worn thin, but there. 

“True.” He agrees. For a moment, none of us speaks. The weight of the night presses down, thick and unrelenting. Clarence’s haunted face. Vidar’s broken body. My grandfather’s voice. It all wants to crush me. I think it’s crushing all of us. And that’s when Tracey breaks it with a smirk, because teasing is the only glue holding us together right now. What do you even say to someone after a night like tonight?

“Right… Well, you two go shower and cry it out. I’ve got a moody dhampire waiting to ruin my morning.” He says, running a hand through his soot-caked hair.

“Go torture the dhampire.” I answer. 

“While you go shower then cry in your demon’s arms.” He adds slyly, eyes glinting. I shrug, leaning into the bit because if I don’t, I’ll fall apart. 

“Yup. If you’re trying to mock me, you’re failing. I’m going home to curl up with a hot guy and rest. You’re going to deal with an annoying dhampire with issues.” I point out. Tracey frowns, sighs dramatically. 

“You have a point. Wanna swap places?” He asks. 

“Oh, not sure.” I tilt my head at Oz, voice mock-serious.

“Hey Oz, want to take Tracey home and curl up with him for the day?” I say jokingly. 

“Only if I get to be the little spoon.” Oz replies instantly, without missing a beat. His voice is hoarse, but the dry humour in it is so perfectly him that it makes my throat sting. I choke on a laugh, almost snorting. Tracey sighs like the world has wronged him. 

“Ah, I’m afraid that’s a deal breaker. It’s big spoon or nothing.” He says firmly. Oz shakes his head, expression tired but soft. 

“What a shame. Guess I’ll stick with Kaci. Ready to go, sweetheart?” He prompts. 

“More than ready.” I glance back at Tracey, my voice quieting a little. 

“Bye, Tracey. And… Thanks for everything.” I add. For once, his smile isn’t a smirk or a tease. It’s small, serious, weighed down by the same exhaustion we’re all carrying. 

“Of course.” He answers.