Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 151

**KACIA**

Waiting. Is. The. WORST. I’ve done stuff like this before before, but usually the stakes aren’t breathing down my neck wearing my last name. I’m pretty sure it’s only been twenty minutes and my legs are already going stiff. I wiggle my toes inside my boots, trying to trick my body into thinking we’re doing something. Doing nothing shouldn’t be this stressful, but there’s literally nothing to do except imagine every way this can go wrong. What if he doesn’t hear the prophecy for hours, or days? What if he hears it and laughs? What if he smells the trap from a mile away? What if Raylah decided to be Raylah and ‘accidentally’ helped the wrong person? We never said it was a trap, but she’s not blind. She knows. Ugh. My stomach rolls. I seriously might throw up. A white flash snaps against the dark just outside the ruins. My whole spine tightens. This is it. Any second, Lord Asshole will stroll in, see the box, reach, pull, breathe, and then it’s our turn to move. I pull my breath thin and quiet. Crunching footsteps approach. Closer. Closer. The angle clears and- 

“Tarish?!” I blurt, popping out of my spot like a jack-in-the-box.

“What are you doing here?” I demand. All around me, my people jolt in sympathetic motion, Mikey half-rises behind his pillar, thumb hovering over the remote. Vidar steps forward a fraction. Clarence makes a shocked sound. Tracey’s silhouette sharpens on the sill, then stills. Oz is suddenly at my shoulder as if he teleported. Tarish whirls around toward me, cloak swirling around his ankles. One brow climbs. 

“I could ask you the same.” He says, voice smooth as glass. 

“I heard Raylah spreading stories that can only be about you. Suspicious. I came to see if you were in trouble.” His gaze slides over the box, the shadows containing my friends. 

“But it appears, that you ARE the trouble.” He comments dryly. I give a helpless shrug that probably reads guilty from orbit. 

“Well… Yeah.” I admit. It is stupid how fast I wait for his judgment. Mentor for less than a week and I’m already twelve again, starving for a gold star. But can you blame me? He’s the closest thing to a father figure that I’ve ever had. He reads it right off my face and his expression eases by a degree.

“If you’ve decided to make your move, that is fine with me.” He starts. 

“BUT… I AM a little hurt you didn’t include me.” His tone is teasing.

“Quickly, explain your plan and tell me what I should do.” He adds. I step in close enough to keep my voice low and give him the shape in a rush. As I explain, Tarish’s mouth tilts, hovering somewhere between amused, impressed, and concerned. 

“If you can knock him unconscious, I can anchor him.” He says. 

“A confinement that will hold long enough for conversation without him just… Killing us all.” He explains. Air leaves my lungs like I’ve been holding it for years. 

“Really? I didn’t have that part yet. I wasn’t sure you’d want in.” I confess awkwardly. 

“For future reference, I would like to be included in your plans.” He says, perfectly polite. 

“Noted.” I say, and can’t keep the grin out of my voice. 

“Thank you.” I add. He glances toward the street.

“Now, while I would like to meet your friends, I think now is not the time. Where should I hide? We shouldn’t hang out here in the open too long, if I heard the rumours, then Alhwin should any time now.” He concludes. I jolt slightly. For a moment, I had forgotten that we are all meant to be hiding. Shit.

I hand Tarish a set of spare earplugs, while everyone dissolves back into their shadows. Tarish vanishes so completely it feels like the rubble decided to keep him. I’m about to fold into my own hollow when a fingertip taps my shoulder, light and careful.

“Hm?” I turn. Oz is closer than I thought, eyes searching my face like he’s trying to read a book.

“Kacia… Are you okay?” He asks, so soft I can barely hear him through the earplugs. I try for a shrug and manage something lopsided. 

“As okay as can be expected.” I answer. He nods and starts to turn. The sight of his back makes something in my chest pitch forward, desperate. There are only two endings to this night and both of them put him beyond my reach. One, we lose and I never see him again because I won’t be here. Or two, we win and he goes home because his bindings would be gone and he doesn’t trust himself to stay here with me. Either way, not mine. Either way, gone.

“Oz… Wait.” My hand finds his wrist before I decide it should. Warm skin, steady pulse. He pivots back, brows furrowed just slightly, patiently waiting for whatever brave thing I’m supposed to say. But I don’t know what to say. Goodbye? Good luck? Don’t go? I love you? All of it lodges in my throat. I can’t say any of that. So I pick the language I can still speak. I surge forward. My fingers fist in the front of his shirt and I tug him down. The motion is messy and urgent and exactly right. No time for doubt, no room for the careful ways I usually do everything. The kiss lands like striking a match. For a heartbeat he’s stone-still with surprise, then he answers, all heat and gravity, hands bracketing my ribs like he’s not sure if he’s allowed and deciding he is. The world collapses down to just him and me. There’s a tiny sound I make in my throat when I realise how badly I needed this. He’s careful in a way that makes my chest ache. I pour all the things I can’t say into the kiss. I say thank you and I’m terrified and don’t leave and I picked you. All the things I’d planned to hold back. All the things he already knows I WANT to say. When I finally break away, we’re both breathing like we sprinted. His forehead rests against mine for a second, the barest weight. Oz’s eyes are wide and stunned and shining with something that looks a lot like grief. He understands what I was trying to say. Of course he does. He always does. Muffled through my earplugs, I hear everyone’s reactions. A strangled little cheer from Clarence.

“Focus, for the love of-” Mikey hisses. Still, he sounds more like a fond older brother than someone who is actually annoyed. Tracey’s gives a theatrical whistle, and Vidar chuckles softly. I refuse to look at any of them. 

“Later?” I whisper, because it’s the only word I trust not to break me. I look up at Oz, silently pleading with him. His gaze holds mine steady, shoulders squaring around a promise he can’t speak. ‘Later.’ he mouths back. No sound. I smooth the wrinkle I left in his shirt. Then my hand slips down his forearm. I feel the line of muscle tense under my palm. I quickly let go before I can change my mind and ruin the trap with all these damn feelings. What am I doing? Making out right now… My grandfather could appear any moment! Oz steps back into the dark. I turn and slide into my hollow, knees kissing cold stone, shoulder settling against a beam that still smells like smoke. I tuck my chin, line up my sight on the box again, and check everyone is still in place. My heart hammers so loud in my ears that I don’t think I could hear anything else. I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth until it stops sounding like footsteps. I close my eyes for a count of one, open them to the dark, and hold very, very still. Then, once again, we wait.