Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 152

OZ

This is going to work. I refuse to make room in my head for any other outcome. I want it over, want the constant tension in Kacia’s shoulders to finally relax, Except… Maybe I don’t? I don’t want to leave her. I am going to have to. She promised herself a solution, promised me, too, and for a heartbeat I almost let myself believe she’d conjure one out of sheer will. Then the library burned and took most of my hope with it. She still has plans, Kacia always has plans, and she still wants to fix this. Fix us. But who knows how long that might take? I fight the urge to sigh. I fight the much worse urge to get up and go to her and steal another kiss before the world notices we’re happy. The memory hits anyway, hard and hot and stupidly gentle. The taste of her, the way she hauled me down like she’d finally stopped being polite with herself. The way my hands wanted to hold more than her ribs and I made them hold only her ribs because I don’t get to be reckless with this. The sound she made. small, startled, hungry. lives under my skin now like a new pulse. Shit, I am so screwed… Focus. I need to focus. I press my shoulder deeper into the column of blackened timber. I try to focus on scanning the area, watching for Kacia’s asshole grandfather. The earplugs I’m wearing dull the world. But not completely. It feels like my head is just wrapped in felt. I sort what gets through. Mikey’s steadied breath behind the pillar, Clarence’s slow roll of air through the nose, then a deliberate hold. Vidar, slow and steady and Tracey not breathing at all for long stretches then taking a slight, sudden breath, like a predator who has learned how to fool prey and needs to pretend to be human. Somewhere behind me, Tarish is breathing heavily. I think he might be more agitated than he is letting on. I suppose he knows the risks here better than most of us. Still, he doesn’t move around or shuffle in place. He has the kind of stillness that only comes from very old practice or very old power. Probably both, in his case. My tail is coiled tight to my thigh so I don’t flick it around everywhere. The wind shifts by a hair and brings me a chain of tiny smells other than just ash and burning. Roads, grass, the distant sugar of Taryn’s ivy in bloom, I refocus on the box. On the place his hand will go. On the first trap I need to set off. Then the route I’ll take to attack him. I’ll need to be fast, to rush across to him before he knows what’s happening. The sooner I knock him out, the sooner Kacia will finally be safe. Kacia… I let myself remember the kiss one more time, one heartbeat, then I lock it away for later, when this is all over.

Suddenly, the air fills with the horrid, sickly scent of sugar and honey. Ugh. I want to jump up and down and yell ‘he’s here! Everyone get ready!’ but obviously that would be the complete opposite of useful. So instead I have to stay silent and… Keep waiting. Damn it. I am tensed and ready. My hand on the string that will set off the trap Kacia designated to me. Honestly, I’m not even totally sure what this particular trap DOES. It includes some of the stuff that Mikey brought along as well as several of the cans of deodorant. I think I should probably hold my breath before setting it off though… I hear footsteps as Lord Alhwin makes his way through the rubble. He doesn’t creep around, he arrives. Heel, grit, the soft hiss of ash under his boots. The sickly smell of him gets stronger as he makes his way towards our trap. He cuts into view between two charred stacks, dressed like he’s going to some fancy party, not ash filled ruins. He’s wearing a long coat of black so deep it basically eats the light, embroidered down the front and cuffs with fine silver thorns. I suspect that he must have some spell to repel dirt, because underneath it he has a pale ivory shirt, pressed within an inch of its life, collar points neatly cruel and not a spec of dirt or ash clings to it. He turns slightly and I can see his face. Ugh. I hate everything about him. The tilt of the chin that calls everyone lower than him just in the way he looks down. His mouth set in a private, practiced smile that says he’s already bored. Eyes half-lidded, heavy with the certainty that every room is his and everything in it belongs to him by right. I want to ruin it. I want to wipe that smug smirk off of his stupid face! This waiting is practically torture. I can barely breathe. My eyes sting and I don’t think that I’m blinking. I know the moment that he spots the box because his steps get faster, more confident. He’s already confident in his victory. He reaches the edge of our cleared circle and lets his gaze travel over the library that he burned, black ribs of beam, collapsed shelves, ash everywhere. I see a flicker of satisfaction. What a monster. To keep myself from moving too early, I count in my head. How many seconds will it take to get to him once the traps go off. I’ll need to be fast. To get in while he’s completely overwhelmed. Three strides across the floor. Two to breach his space. One to put my hand on him. I clutch my string tightly. I force myself to blink and take a couple of soft, quiet breaths so that I’ll be ready when it’s time to move. Lord Asshole kneels down by the box. A slight smile flickering in the corners of his mouth. He is so relaxed. Clearly he doesn’t suspect a trap at all. Or maybe he does and he’s just so confident in his own power and abilities that he isn’t threatened or concerned. I watch as he slides one hand under the lid. I force myself to blink again. He lifts the lid. At first nothing happens. The hinge gives him nothing, no creak, no ceremony. I don’t know if he was expecting something dramatic. Some magical weapon with a bright flash of light or puff of smoke. He frowns slightly and pulls the lid open all the way. Then, the trap goes off. The box blasts a mist straight up into his face. He blinks a small involuntary sound he can’t dress in dignity. He is clearly baffled and has no idea what just happened. He sways just slightly as Ulric’s concoctions start to do their thing. I can see him trying to work out what’s going on and where the attack is coming from. He looks around wildly, his eyes wide. The break in his composure is incredibly satisfying.

“What the-” He mutters to himself. 

“NOW!” Kacia’s voice cuts the quiet cleanly in two. I yank the string hard, clamp my mouth shut and hold my breath. There is a moment’s pause, then all hell breaks loose.