Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 161

**KACIA**

For one insane, unreasonable moment, my brain decides that Oz has come back with a girlfriend. Which is ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. I mentally scold myself, hard, and then the obvious clicks into place. Right. Sister. He has a sister. Obviously, the woman clinging to his arm is her. She’s got a glamour up, just like he usually does, though hers isn’t quite as seamless. I can see the faint shimmer where it flickers, horns appearing for half a second before vanishing again, like her magic can’t decide whether to hold or rest. She’s smaller than Oz but carries the same aura of energy, quick, bright, full of personality waiting to spill out. I make a quiet note not to make too much direct eye contact. I don’t quite trust her glamour and I’m not ready for a repeat of any supernatural panic attacks tonight. Oz clears his throat, dragging my attention back to him. My eyes narrow automatically.

“What are you doing, Oz?” I ask. I sound tired, even to myself. My voice is flat, brittle around the edges. I think I might actually have emotional whiplash. My body can’t decide whether to cry, yell, or just lie down on the floor and wait for sleep to take me out of this conversation entirely.

“I… Came to say goodbye properly.” He says slowly, like he’s testing each word before letting it leave his mouth. His sister tilts her head curiously, her bright eyes flicking between us like she’s trying to piece together a puzzle she only has the corners for. 

“Right. And what’s that supposed to mean exactly?” I ask. It comes out sharper than I intend, but I’m running on fumes and self defense. He vanished into thin air, and now he’s suddenly back like nothing happened? Yeah, no. Part of me knows I’m being unfair. But the rest of me, the exhausted, heartbroken part, doesn’t care. I refuse to hope. I refuse to get crushed twice in one night. I wouldn’t recover. Oz sighs heavily, rubbing a hand down his face.

“I knew it!” He blurts out. He turns immediately to his sister, exasperation colouring every word.

“Didn’t I tell you, Lyssa? I TOLD you she’d think I left on purpose and that she’d be pissed! Of course she would. It’s a jerk move!” He groans. Alyssa tries to hold in a laugh and fails, hiding it behind her hand. I frown, wary. 

“Are you saying you didn’t leave intentionally?” I ask. Oz groans again, his expression softening into something that hurts to look at. 

“Really, princess? You think I’d do that to you? You know me better than that.” His tone gentles, low and rough around the edges. 

“You deserve a hell of a lot better than a disappearing act. It was an accident. When you undid the bindings, it reversed the original summoning spell that brought me there. It flung me straight home.” He explains. He sounds earnest, too earnest for me to dismiss it outright. His sister nods eagerly, jumping in to back him up. 

“He really was! I found him lying on the kitchen floor, looking like he’d been hit by the world’s worst hangover.” She chimes in. 

“I bet he did it on purpose to get out of cleaning.” Tracey grumbles under his breath. There’s a distinct thunk sound, followed by a very satisfying yelp.

“Thanks, Clarence.” I say without even looking around.

“Anytime.” Clarence replies dryly. Oz sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Right. Uh. So this is my younger sister, Alyssa.” He introduces her. Before I can respond, she bounces forward, dropping Oz’s arm and offering me a bright smile that could light up a graveyard. 

“Kacia, right? I’ve heard about you.” She says cheerfully. 

“Oh?” I manage.

“Yeah! Thank you for not letting my brother die in a basement. Or murdering him for any of the thick headed things he probably did while he was here.” Her grin sharpens into a teasing smirk. 

“He told me some of it, but I’m sure your version’s more accurate. Probably more entertaining too.” She teases. 

“Hey!” Oz protests, but the corners of his mouth twitch. He looks down at her with a soft, affectionate expression I’ve never seen him give anyone else. The one that says family. And that’s when it hits me. How good he looks like this, relaxed, comfortable with his family. It shouldn’t hurt. I should be happy for him. But every time his eyes flick back to me, there’s guilt there. Sadness. Like he already knows this is the end of something. I manage a faint smile for Alyssa. She’s bright and quick and instantly likeable, the kind of person who fills a room with warmth. Yeah, I like her. I could easily see us becoming friends. But… Am I actually going to get that chance? Judging by the look on Oz’s face, I already know the answer.

There’s a long moment of silence. No one moves. The air between us feels too still, like the moment before something breaks. Then Oz clears his throat, the sound rough and uncertain.

“Maybe we could… Go for a walk? Talk privately for… A few minutes?” He suggests. His voice is soft. Careful. Sad. And I know exactly what that means. He wants privacy so he can say goodbye. Yeah, no. Absolutely not. Being ‘worried about my safety’ is a stupid reason to basically dump me. I’ve been worried about my safety my entire life. I’ve lived it, breathed it, survived it. I decided the night I stopped hiding what I was, ditched the brown hair dye, threw away the contacts, and told the world I was half fae, that I wasn’t going to live small or afraid ever again. I refuse to go back to that. And I refuse to let him use fear as an excuse.

“Nope.” I say flatly. Oz blinks. 

“No?” He responds blankly. 

“No. No private conversation. No dramatic goodbye. We are not doing that crap.” I reply, crossing my arms. My voice shakes a little, but I keep my chin up. Oz’s expression softens in that infuriating, gentle way that makes my chest ache.

“Kacia, sweetheart… We talked about this before. You know why I can’t stay.” He starts. 

“Excuses.” I answer. He frowns, caught off guard. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks. 

“I mean, that’s an excuse.” I snap. 

“Do you want me or not, Oz? Because from where I’m standing, you’re giving up way too easily.” I accuse. His brows shoot up. 

“Easily!? You know that’s not true!” He argues. 

“Clearly it is.” I bite back. 

“So no. You can’t say goodbye. I refuse. We’re going to fix this!” I declare. My voice goes a little wild on the last word. He opens his mouth to respond, but I don’t give him the chance. I spin on my heel, eyes scanning the room. Raylah. Perfect. She’s still perched on the same chunk of broken cement from earlier, half watching, half trying to pretend she’s invisible. I charge toward her with all the determined fury of someone who is one bad minute away from making extremely questionable magical decisions. 

“You!” I point, probably a bit too aggressively. 

“You’ve been researching this whole thing, right? The glamour issue? Me not being able to look at Oz’s eyes without, you know, experiencing psychological terror? What have you found? Anything? Tell me you have something!” I demand. Raylah blinks, startled, looking more like a cornered rabbit than powerful fae. 

“I… I’ve been trying.” She stammers, wringing her hands. 

“But I haven’t quite figured it out yet.” Her tone dips toward miserable. 

“I’m sorry.” She adds. She risks a glance past me, toward Tarish, her expression longing. I groan in frustration and look around the room, sweeping my gaze over everyone else. 

“Anyone? Anything? Did anyone find something useful before the library burned down?” I try again, desperate. The silence that follows is full of shuffling feet and guilty expressions. No one meets my eyes. And that’s when I feel it, something warm on my cheeks. I lift a hand, and sure enough, tears. Again! Oh, perfect. Because clearly what I need right now is to cry in front of everyone. My throat tightens.

“Why is everything so unfair?” I mutter under my breath. My voice cracks halfway through. 

Behind me, Oz speaks softly. 

“Kacia…” He trails off. Just my name, but it’s loaded with the kind of sadness that makes everything worse.

“Don’t.” I whisper. I don’t even turn around. But he doesn’t stop. Of course he doesn’t.

“Kacia, I need to go.” He continues. The words hit like a punch to the sternum. My whole body wobbles with the weight of it. My knees feel weak again, trembling, unreliable. The floor looks closer than it should, and for once, I don’t fight it. I just let myself drop, sitting right there on the cracked stone floor, knees pulled in, hands limp in my lap. Because what’s the point of standing when the world just keeps shifting underneath you?