Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 160

**KACIA**

He’s gone. Just… Gone. One minute Oz is there, warm, solid, steady, practically holding me together, and the next, the warmth vanishes. His arms disappear, his presence collapses like smoke in a draft, and I’m left standing there, staring at empty space. The scent of him, smoke and ash and something faintly sweet, lingers for half a heartbeat before the air swallows it. And then… Nothing. The silence that follows is unbearable. It’s heavy and hollow, the kind that feels like it’s pressing against your ribs from the inside. I don’t even realise I’m shaking until my own voice cuts through it, small and broken.

“…Oz?” I call out. No answer. Of course there isn’t. Which means… He left. I can’t quite wrap my head around it. I KNEW this was coming. I knew he had decided to go home eventually, but I didn’t think it would happen like this. I thought we’d get a moment, just one, to say goodbye. To prepare. To breathe. But instead, he just… Vanished. He didn’t even say goodbye. My chest tightens. Suddenly, it feels like I can’t breathe properly. The world feels too loud, too bright. Everyone’s still here, still watching me, and I feel like I’m about to come apart at the seams. There’s too much magic thrumming under my skin, wild and unfamiliar, and Oz isn’t here to help steady it anymore. My pulse races, my heart feels like it’s trying to escape my ribs, and I can feel the edges of my control fraying. I knew I was leaning on him. I just didn’t realise quite how much I was depending on him to maintain my sanity right now. I glance around, and everyone’s staring, confused, worried and unsure what to say. Mikey looks the most furious, which is weirdly comforting. He’s got his jaw clenched, the protective ‘someone’s getting punched’ expression on full display, although I’m not entirely sure who yet. He catches my eye and his face softens, just slightly, and that’s all it takes. I burst into tears. Not elegant, single tear down the cheek crying. Full-body, ugly sobbing. It’s mortifying. I can already picture future me wanting to crawl under a table and never come out. But present me doesn’t care. Present me is exhausted, emotionally shredded, and has just been ghosted by a demon boyfriend in the most literal way possible. Mikey, bless him, doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward and folds me into a bear hug, muttering something soft I don’t catch. I just bury my face in his chest and let it happen. He smells like coffee and cheap laundry detergent, and it’s so familiar that it almost makes me cry harder. The others stand around awkwardly, probably wondering if it’s safe to approach me when I’m a walking magical hazard. Raylah looks the most sympathetic, which is somehow both nice and deeply insulting. Probably because she and I are both members of the ‘recently dumped without ever even being in a real relationship’ club. Yay for feminine solidarity, I guess. Not the kind I wanted, though. Tarish clears his throat delicately.

“Kacia?” He says. I pull back slightly from Mikey’s chest, wiping my face with the sleeve of my jacket. 

“Yeah?” I answer, my voice is a wreck. He hesitates, his usual composed tone gentled into something more cautious. 

“While I am… Sympathetic to your plight, I am also slightly concerned that you may lose control of your magic and, ah, unintentionally harm yourself, or others, if your emotions continue to escalate. If I may, I’d like to help you calm yourself before that happens?” He offers. I blink up at him. Even through the blur of tears, I can tell he’s nervous. Which is both reasonable and a little funny. Probably doesn’t want to get vaporised by an emotional half fae with zero magical training. I take a long, shaky breath, trying to find some composure. My chest still feels tight, my pulse still erratic, but I manage to nod. I drag in another breath and step out of Mikey’s arms. 

“Alright. What do I have to do?”

The next ten minutes are spent with Tarish guiding me through what he calls a ‘grounding exercise’ and what I call ‘mildly humiliating emotional first aid.’ APPARENTLY, it’s meant to help me ‘reconnect to the present moment’ and ‘establish emotional stability.’ Which sounds suspiciously like therapy, and I’m pretty sure he’s just trying to keep me from accidentally blowing something up. But honestly? I’ll take it. He has me count things. Five I can see (apparently, the corpse of my dead grandfather ‘doesn’t count’), four I can touch, three I can hear, two I can smell, and one I can taste. I don’t even know what the taste one is supposed to do, but at this point I’m too tired to argue. It’s strange. Awkward, even. Especially with everyone listening in. But it works. Tarish keeps his voice calm and steady while he talks me through it, every word measured, patient. He’s even breathing in that exaggeratedly even way, slow in through his nose, out through his mouth, as though he’s trying to model relaxation like it’s a science experiment. He never actually TELLS me to copy him, but somehow I end up doing it anyway. And somewhere between ‘four things I can touch’ and ‘three things I can hear,’ something inside me eases. It’s like my magic finally exhales. I’m still exhausted, still wrung out, but at least I’m not vibrating with panic anymore. My heart rate evens. The air feels a little less sharp in my lungs. The world stops tilting at strange angles. Score one for meditation, I guess. Damn it. When Tarish finally steps back, I take one last deep breath and shake out my hands, trying to act like I’ve totally got this together again.

“Okay,” I say, clearing my throat. 

“Everyone. I guess… Let’s start disassembling all these traps and cleaning up our mess.” I direct. Tracey groans immediately. 

“Do we really have to? The place is already in ruins. What’s a bit more mess?” He complains. I turn and glare at him. 

“You didn’t even help set it up, you don’t get to complain.” I lecture. He mutters something about ‘equal distribution of suffering’ under his breath, but doesn’t push it. Smart vampire. Mikey clears his throat. 

“Uh, this might be the cop in me…” He says carefully. 

“But can someone tell me what we’re planning to do with the dead body?” He asks. Tarish lets out the world’s most world weary sigh. 

“I’ll take care of it.” He says reluctantly, glancing at Vidar. 

“If you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand with the heavy lifting?” He adds. Vidar shrugs. 

“Sure.” He agrees. And just like that, everyone falls into motion. It takes maybe half an hour to get the area mostly cleaned up. Not completely, no one’s trying THAT hard. Tracey was right about one thing. This place is a ruin. The floor’s still covered in glitter and flour, and the smell of burnt magic and broken spells lingers thick in the air. There’s only so much anyone can do. When it’s over, I just stand there, brushing flour dust off my jeans, staring at the empty space where my grandfather’s body used to be. So… Now what? I guess everyone’s supposed to go home. That’s what people do after this sort of thing, right? Disperse. Pretend life is normal again. But the thought of going home, alone, sits heavy in my chest. My place feels too quiet at the best of times. Now it’ll just feel wrong. Maybe I need to get a pet or something… Still, even though every part of me wants a shower and a bed, I’m not ready to leave. Not ready to be alone with the thoughts of what just happened. I open my mouth to tell everyone they can go home when the air around me shifts. It’s faint at first, a pulse of magic, dark and familiar, brushing against my senses like static. My head snaps to the left. Nothing? Then, a moment later, a tear opens in the air. A dark, rippling oval blooms into existence, its edges shivering like ink dropped into water. The magic hums deep and resonant in my chest. Huh. Guess the having more magic thing comes with perks, I can sense a portal forming now. Cool. I wait, breath caught halfway between hope and disbelief. And then he steps through. Oz. Looking exactly like he did before he vanished, but he’s solid, real, here. And he’s not alone.