Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 14

**OZ**

I make a mental note. Always keep a pair of shoes stashed somewhere. Or at the very least, a pair of socks. Something. Anything. Because walking barefoot on cement in the middle of a chilly street? Kind of sucks. The pavement is cold enough to make my bones ache. I think I’ve officially lost feeling in at least two toes. And while I was going to mention it to Kacia before we left her place, that I didn’t exactly have appropriate footwear for public outings, I got... Distracted. Teasing her was too easy. Too fun. And in the moment, the cold didn’t seem like a big deal. But now, halfway down the street, the sharp bite of concrete against skin is harder to ignore. Still, I don’t say anything. Feels stupid to complain now. She already said we’d stop by the shop after lunch to sell the blood and grab some clothes. I’ll find shoes then. And anyway, compared to what I’ve been through over the last few days, tied down, bled dry, left in a basement with more mold than dignity, this? This is nothing. A little cold. A few pebbles… I’m tough. I refuse to be defeated by the occasional pointy rock. But not everyone’s so chill about it. Kacia and Mike either didn’t notice my lack of footwear or politely ignored it. The teenager working the counter at the cafe is... Less subtle.

“Uh, I’m really not supposed to let you in without shoes.” He says bluntly, glancing between us like someone just handed him a situation that wasn’t in the training manual. His tone isn’t cruel. More... Resigned. Like he’s had to deal with enough weirdos in this town that he’s run out of shock and now just takes things as they come. Mike looks down. His eyes widen.

“Dude, why didn’t you say something?” He says, eyebrows shooting up. I shrug. Explaining that I forgot while trying to fluster Kacia doesn’t feel like the best play here. He rolls his eyes and turns back to the kid. 

“Sorry, Laytin. Oz here was… The victim of a crime.” He says vaguely. Laytin, apparently that’s his name, raises an eyebrow, clearly familiar enough with Mike to pause before giving us the boot. 

“Yeah? You don’t say.” He comments as he looks me over, from the bare feet to the torn shirt.

“I’m taking him shopping after this.” Kacia pipes up helpfully, stepping in with her usual cheerful confidence. 

“Shoes, clothes, whole kit. He just needs food first.” She explains like it’s the most reasonable answer ever. Laytin hesitates for a second longer, eyeing my bare feet like he’s expecting them to do something weird, narrowing his eyes like he’s weighing the risk. Then, he shrugs. 

“Fine. Just this once. But if I catch you barefoot again, I’m making you mop the patio.” He grumbles. 

“Thanks, Laytin. You’re a gem.” Kacia chirps, already heading towards a booth in the back.

“I know.” He mutters, turning back to the espresso machine. She slides smoothly into the booth, claiming what I’m guessing is her usual spot. Mikey’s already halfway through slipping into the seat on her left when he glances back at me.

“You really should have mentioned the shoe thing, when we’re done eating, I’ll head back to Kaci’s and grab my car. I can drive you where you need to go.” He mutters. My first instinct is to say no. Flat out. I don’t want to accept favours, to depend on a man I just met, especially one who’s this close to Kacia. Not when I’m still figuring out where I stand in all of this. But then my foot brushes the icy metal base of the table and I wince. Right.  The floor is cold.

“Perhaps.” I say, noncommittal. I don’t agree, but I don’t shut it down either. He seems satisfied with that and settles beside Kacia without comment. I take the seat on her other side. There’s a moment of quiet as I settle in. Then I slide a little closer. Not TOUCHING her. Not quite. But definitely closer than necessary. The booth’s wide enough that I could give her space. Could sit back and behave. But I don’t. She notices. Her posture stiffens just slightly, and she narrows her eyes at me in silent suspicion. Calculating and cautious. But she doesn’t SAY anything. Smart girl. She knows by now that calling me out only invites more teasing. More charm. More flirting. She thinks staying quiet will keep me in check. Challenge accepted.

A few minutes pass, and the teenager returns, balancing three plates like a professional. Which is mildly impressive, considering we never actually ordered anything. But Kacia doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even look surprised.

“I got your guest the bacon and eggs brunch deal.” Laytin announces dryly, setting a plate down in front of me. 

“Extra bacon. He seemed the type.” He adds. 

“Perfect. Thanks.” Kacia replies brightly, like this is all completely normal. I glance between her, Mike, and the plate now sitting in front of me. I’m confused. Why is this teenager deciding what I eat? And why does everyone else act like that makes perfect sense? Mike’s already digging into his food without hesitation. Not even a flicker of concern. I hesitate, then finally ask the obvious. 

“Is there a reason we’re just… Taking whatever random food we get?” I ask. Kacia lets out an exaggerated sigh and rolls her eyes. It’s honestly kind of adorable.

“There is literally nothing bad on the menu here.” She starts, as if this is common knowledge. 

“We’ve come here so often we’ve tried… Basically everything, so we don’t bother ordering anymore. They just pick something for us based on what the cook feels like making. Plus, I swear Laytin has a knack for finding the perfect dish for every occasion.” She lowers her voice as she’s speaking like she’s sharing a secret. Laytin grins. I eye my plate. Bacon, eggs, toast, roasted tomato. Crispy, golden edges. Smells phenomenal. I didn’t see the menu, but if I had, this definitely would’ve made the short list. I don’t have any real complaints. Except for the part where a teenager is making decisions about my food. Still. Mildly unsettling. Laytin, who’s just set the last plate in front of Mikey, narrows his eyes at me with open suspicion. 

“What? You don’t trust my choices?” He says flatly.  His tone is all mock offense, but there’s a flicker of actual challenge in his eyes, like I’ve insulted his culinary honour and he’s one minute away from dramatically flipping a dish towel over his shoulder and walking out. I could reassure him. Tell him it looks fine. That I appreciate it. But where’s the fun in that? I lift a hand, gesturing calmly. 

“One moment.” I tell him. Then I make a show of it. I slowly cut a piece of toast. Taste the tomato. Sample the eggs with exaggerated precision. All while maintaining the most deeply serious expression I can manage. Laytin watches, arms crossed, expression somewhere between unimpressed and seconds from violence. Finally, I set my fork down. Swallow. Pause. 

“It’ll do.” I say breezily, reaching for my coffee. Then, because I can’t resist, I wink at him. Laytin huffs, offended, and turns on his heel, muttering under his breath as he disappears behind the counter. He reminds me of my sister, oddly enough. She’s a few years older, but has that same dry sarcasm and dramatic flair. Which probably explains why I can’t help teasing him. Kacia smacks my arm, light, but pointed.

“Don’t be mean. Laytin takes good care of us.” She scolds.

“Sorry, angel. I’ll be good.” I say with a straight face, hands raised like I’m surrendering. She rolls her eyes again. 

“Now that I’d have to see to believe.” She grumbles. 

Mike is halfway through his coffee when he finally decides to drop the question we’ve all been circling.

“So, how exactly did you end up half naked in Kacia’s house?” He says casually, stirring sugar into his cup like he’s not about to start something. Kacia opens her mouth to answer, probably with something dry and overly practical, but I cut her off with a hand raised and my most serious expression.

“I’ll take this one.” I say solemnly, placing a hand over my heart like I’m about to give an oath or declare undying love. Kacia groans instantly, clearly sensing that I intend to have fun with this. 

“Oh damn, please don’t…” She trails off. 

“Shhh… Let me honour the moment.” I  hush her gently. I sit a little straighter, adopt the exact tone of someone spinning a dramatic tale around a campfire, and begin.

“It all started on a dark and stormy night-” I start. 

“It was not stormy!” She insists. 

“-When I was cruelly abducted.” I continue smoothly, ignoring her. 

“Dragged into the depths of an unspeakable lair by a group of nefarious drainers, my strength stolen, my dignity in tatters, and my shirt... Tragically torn in the struggle.” I explain, embellishing the story for flair. Mike’s eyebrows climb, clearly amused. Kacia is already hiding her face in one hand.

“So I’m lying there, on the cold concrete floor, barely conscious, my abs exposed to the cruel air-” I continue, mentioning my abs purely because I caught her checking them out earlier and it seems like the right thing to do. 

“For goodness sakes.” Kacia mutters.

“-When suddenly, the door burst open, whe appeared. Hair wild. Blades flashing. Radiating chaos and righteousness in equal measure.” I say, gesturing with increasing flair.

“My hair was braided back and your eyes were closed, you didn’t even see me enter.” She comments flatly. I continue, ignoring her. Never let the truth get in the way of a good story. 

“I had never seen anything so terrifying… Or beautiful,” I say dreamily, completely undeterred. Mike snorts into his coffee.

“She fought like a woman possessed, there were dozens of them but she persevered, all that stood between me and a slow, painful death. And then, just when I thought all hope was lost, she defeated their leader, yanked me out of that hellhole, and carried me to freedom, saving the demon damsel in distress.” I explain. 

“I literally did not even fight anyone. I made threats, that’s all.” She says firmly. 

“Also you just leaned on me. You walked, I did not carry you.” She adds with a groan, her voice muffled as she drops her head fully onto the table with a thud.

“Shhh, you’re ruining the story.” I whisper, gently patting her back. Mike, to his credit, is trying very hard not to laugh. But the way he’s biting his lip and covering his mouth isn’t helping.

“I woke up on her couch, blanket tucked around me with care.” I finish, pressing a hand dramatically to my chest. 

“And in that moment, I knew, I owed her my life. And, perhaps, my heart.” I declare. 

“Mikey, please make him stop.” Kacia groans, not lifting her head. Mike grins wide. “Why? This is great. I’m learning so much.” He insists, he clearly knows my story is highly embellished, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“I hate both of you.” Kacia grumbles. I lean back in my seat, taking a slow sip of coffee and basking in my own theatrical brilliance. Worth every second.