Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 177

**IAN**

Ace always has the best ideas. He’s super clever like that. But I’M a better climber, so it’s even. That’s how twins work. So now we gotta find Dad a girlfriend. Makes sense. Oz got one and now he’s all smiley and soft and weird, so maybe if Dad gets one too he’ll stop being so grumpy when we accidentally break jars. Or bowls. Or shelves. Or… Whatever. But there’s a problem.

A big one. 

“Ace… How do we find Dad a girlfriend?” I ask. Because Ace thinks fast, but not that fast. He squints like he’s doing maths in his head. Then he nods like he solved everything ever. 

“We just gotta find a girl who’s really nice, and who doesn’t care if Dad is cranky sometimes.” He decides. Oh. That actually makes sense.

“Right… But where do we find one?” I ask. 

“We’re always here. Dad doesn’t leave much. And the people who come in are sometimes rude. Or scared of us. Or both.” I frown. Ace freezes like someone pressed pause on him. Then he shrugs super hard.

“Then we just watch all the girls who come in and pick a good one!” He says, all proud.

“Oh. Okay.” I say, because that makes perfect sense. And also because Ace said it, so it must be smart. We crawl into our best spying spot on the top shelf, our observation headquarters, and hide behind a stack of boxes Dad keeps saying he’ll sort out later (which I think means never). From up here we can see EVERYTHING. Except when we blink. But we try not to blink too much, because this is important.

“How do we even know if someone is good?” I whisper. Ace scrunches up his face so hard his ears wiggle.

“We do a test.” He says.

“A test?” I ask. 

“Yep! A test to see if they’re nice!” He explains. 

“Ooh! We could ask questions! Like a quiz!” I say.

“Yep. And we’re super good at asking questions.” Ace says proudly. I nod. We are. Dad says we ask fifty questions a minute, which I think means we’re very talented.

“We need a secret code word, for if we find a good girlfriend for Dad. So we both know she’s the right one.” I decide. Ace thinks for exactly one second.

“Ding.” He says.

“What?” I frown.

“Ding! Like the door bell. If we like someone we say ding!” He points at the bell. 

“Ohhhh… Good idea.” I nod seriously. Just then the actual bell goes DING. We both lean over the edge, sticking our heads out like weird birds. We squint. Then we sigh at the same time. 

“It’s a man.” Ace says.

“Yep. No ding.” I agree. We watch him wander around the shop. He picks up a jar. Dad yells at him for touching it wrong. He leaves fast. Ace nudges me. 

“This might take a while.” He frowns. 

“Yeah.” I sigh dramatically.

“Maybe even a whole hour.” He says, sounding very serious.

“We gotta find the PERFECT girlfriend.” I remind him. Ace nods. 

“Yep. Dad deserves only the best.” He agrees. So we settle in, elbows on the dusty shelf, ready to spy on every girl who comes into the shop. Even if it takes all day. Or until we get really REALLY hungry.

Three more people come into the store after we start our mission. The first two are men. They wander in like they’re on a mission to touch EVERYTHING. The first one immediately picks up a jar, turns it upside down, then sideways, then upside down again, even though the label says DO NOT TIP. Dad is going to yell about that later, for sure. Hopefully he doesn’t think WE did it. 

The second one is sniffing every pouch on the herbs shelf like he’s trying to find something delicious, except those herbs smell like feet and swamp water. He clearly has no idea what he’s doing. Ace and I exchange a Look. It says, absolutely useless. Zero girlfriend potential. A waste of our time. Also, they don’t even look up. Not once. Not even when we crawl halfway down a shelf to spy on them. Who walks past TWO goblin kids and doesn’t wave or smile or at least make a funny face? Boring adults, that’s who. Then the bell DINGS again and a lady comes in. 

But she is… Old. Like, really old. And I don’t mean human old, because humans get old weirdly fast. I mean she looks like she’s lived at least two or three centuries. Maybe more. Supernaturals live a long time, and she might be one of those types who’s so old she’s looped back around to looking like a grandma twice. Her hair is this swirly storm-cloud grey, and it’s braided with tiny beads that clack together. She has troll-like wrinkles, and she leans on a carved walking stick that smells like mouldy wood. Every step she takes makes the charms on her bracelets jingle softly, like little bells. And she moves SO slow. Painfully slow. I lean to Ace. 

“If she and Dad walked together, it would take them a whole year to get to the counter.” I whisper. Ace nods very seriously. 

“And she’d fall over if we ran past her too fast.” He adds. She probably can’t play tag without her stick. She definitely can’t climb shelves or rafters. And I bet she says things like, ‘Careful, dears!’ and ‘Mind your steps!’ every two seconds. A girlfriend who can’t play chasing games, hide and seek, OR climbing is no fun at all. Plus she smells like peppermint and mothballs, and Dad is allergic to peppermint. That would be a DISASTER. Ace and I turn to each other, make our faces, and shake our heads at the exact same time. She gets a very official no from both of us. Then the bell DINGS again. We both jerk our heads up. A girl walks in. I squint so hard my face scrunches up like a raisin. That’s how you know I’m thinking serious thoughts. She’s small like us, well, not tiny like us, but small like Dad. She’s got goblin ears, pointy and cute, sticking right out of her hair. And goblin eyes too, yellowish and bright. But her skin is human-coloured, not green, which is weird but also kinda cool. Like she’s half-something, maybe part chocolate because she smells like chocolate. Not pretend chocolate. REAL chocolate. The fancy kind Dad never buys because ‘that’s not what we’re here for, put that back.’ And chocolate makes people happy, so maybe she will make Dad happy too. I glance sideways at Ace. He gives one nod, the nod we use for very important plans. Investigation time.

We climb down the shelf as quiet as we can. Not jumping, because she’s not big like Oz. If we jump on her she’d probably fall over and break like a dropped plate. Dad is still talking to the super old lady, so we have a few minutes. We run up to her fast.

“Hello!” I say with my biggest nice smile.

“Hi there.” She says, bending a little to look at me properly. Ace hops down beside me and grins. 

“Hi lady!” He waves. She blinks, then smiles so big her nose scrunches.

“Wow, there’s two of you! I bet you’re… Cousins?” She guesses. I wrinkle my whole face in disgust and Ace bursts out laughing. 

“Noooo, we’re TWINS, silly!” He says proudly. She gasps dramatically and puts a hand over her chest.

“Oh dear! How could I possibly have gotten that wrong?” She says. She’s joking. I can tell. I like her already. Time for the serious questions. Ace starts.

“Are you a girlfriend?” He asks. Her eyebrows jump up like frogs.

“Am I a girlfriend? Uh… No. I don’t have a boyfriend.” She answers. Good. No boyfriend means maybe she could be Dad’s girlfriend. I ask next.

“Do you like playing games?” I say, tilting my head. She smiles. 

“Games can be lots of fun. Especially with good people.” She says. Good answer. Very good. Ace leans forward, super focused now. 

“Do you work ALL the time like Dad?” He says with narrowed eyes. That’s important. It’s no fun if she’s all busy all the time. 

“Not all the time, but I do have a job.” She adds. While we question her, she wanders down the herb aisle, checking labels. Her fingers skim over the jars like she’s used to figuring things out by touch. And the chocolate smell gets stronger the closer we follow her.

“What job?” I demand. Because this part is important.

“I work at the bakery down the road, I’m the person who makes the cakes.” She says. Time stops. Literally stops. Ace and I stare at each other with giant eyes. Then-

“DING!!!” We yell at the exact same time. She jumps, nearly dropping a jar. 

“She makes cakes!” I whisper urgently to Ace. He nods like this is the greatest discovery in the universe.

“Perfect.” He decides. We turn back to her, polite like Dad taught us for customers.

“What’s your name please, lady?” I ask.

“My name is Gracie, and what are your names?” She says warmly. Ace puffs up. 

“I’m Ace!” He answers. 

“And I’m Ian.” I say, matching his proud voice. Then I grab her sleeve, gently, the way Dad says is okay, and beam up at her.

“You should come meet our dad.”