Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 178

**ULRIC**

The boys are quiet for once. That is… Incredibly suspicious. Ace and Ian have two modes. Chaos and sleeping. Well, occasionally there is a secret third mode I call plotting, which is always the most dangerous. They COULD just be laying low because they made a mess earlier, but guilt has never once stopped them before. The only time they felt guilty was the day they tied my shoelaces together ‘as a joke’ and I face-planted into a stack of cauldron polish. And even then, they laughed so hard they nearly choked. So no, guilt doesn’t silence them. Quiet means they’re planning something. The best I can hope for is that whatever they’re planning is only mildly catastrophic. The worst I can imagine? Well… The last time they were this quiet for this long, I spent three hours untangling a net of enchanted fishing wire they strung from the rafters because they were ‘building a trap for intruders.’ I still find pieces of it hidden around the shop. I love them both dearly, I really do, but I am absolutely outnumbered. Outsmarted sometimes, too, which is deeply upsetting for my pride. The day Oz and Kacia babysat after feeding them cake? That was the longest break I’ve had in years. Literal years. Those two owe me at least a dozen favours after that, and honestly, I’m half tempted to cash one in now. I’m sure I could convince them to take the boys for a couple hours. I can barely imagine a break that long. A whole afternoon without someone climbing the shelves? Without someone shouting ‘LOOK AT THIS!’ right before something explodes in my face? It sounds like heaven. But I don’t get to check on the boys, because I am currently trapped in customer service hell with this elderly woman in front of me who needs me to re-explain every single item in the store. I’ve explained the pickled toadstools THREE TIMES and she still thinks they’re a snack. Another customer walks in, a younger woman, and I glance over briefly. She looks content to browse. Good. Great. Hopefully I can finish with grandma confusion here before I have to- Oh no. Oh NO. What are those two little monsters doing? I see them out of the corner of my eye, slinking toward the new customer. That’s bad. They almost never try to talk to customers. And when they do? It usually ends terribly. Not everyone finds it charming to have their tail grabbed like a rope swing the way Oz does. And don’t even get me started on the time Ace bit someone because he was ‘playing dinosaur.’ It happened once and I still had to ban dinosaur games for over a month. My eyes flick between the elderly woman rambling about potion labels and my sons creeping up on the unsuspecting shopper. Please, PLEASE don’t let them jump on her. Please don’t let them steal her bag. Please don’t let them throw something at her. Please don’t let them try to challenge her to a duel. Please don’t let them- …Huh. They’re… Behaving? They’re standing politely. Smiling. Asking questions. Not climbing her like a tree. Not biting. Not throwing things. They’re even using their ‘nice’ voices. This is far more terrifying. The boys are many things, chaotic, mischievous, unstoppable, but sweet? Sweetness only happens when they want something. When they REALLY want something. The real question is… What do they want? And how fast can I stop it?

The woman and my kids walk over to me. Instant panic. I practically shove the elderly woman away with a rushed, ‘Take your time deciding!’ and she totters off, thankfully oblivious. I barely have a second to breathe before Ace and Ian half-drag the new customer toward me. At least they’re being gentle about it. Gentle usually means they’re trying to impress somebody. Which is… Worrying.

“Dad, this is Gracie, she’s our new friend!” Ace announces proudly, puffing out his chest. Ian tugs my shirt so hard I nearly stumble.

“She makes CAKE, Dad!” He stage-whispers, which means he says it at full volume, sounding like he’s broadcasting live to the entire street. One day they will learn how to whisper properly. And the day they do, I’m doomed. Because their current ‘whispers’ are the only warning system I have for their secrets. 

“Uh… That’s great?” I manage, completely confused. Ace nods like he’s delivering a speech.

“Gracie, this is Dad! He’s only sometimes grumpy but he’s nice and he only yells at us when we’re REALLY bad.” He announces. I drag a hand down my face.

“He can’t make cakes though.” Ian adds gravely, like that is my biggest flaw as a father.

“My name is Ulric.” I mutter, trying to regain some shred of dignity.

“Nice to meet you, Ulric.” The woman says warmly. Her voice is calm, her smile genuine. Honestly, she seems entirely unfazed by being abducted by two goblins. Impressive. She’s definitely half goblin herself, the ears give that away, and something else mixed in, something with human-coloured skin. Not human though. There’s a faint magical hum around her that humans just don’t have. Still, asking would be rude, and I’m already mortified enough. I open my mouth to say something polite, maybe welcome her to the shop, ask if she needs help, apologise for my children behaving like feral squirrels, but the boys barrel forward before I can get a syllable out.

“Dad is SAD.” Ace announces.

“I am NOT-” I start. 

“He is!” Ian interrupts. 

“He gets extra cranky when he’s sad, so he needs a girlfriend so he can be happy again.” He continues. I am going to die. Right here behind the counter. Just collapse into a pile of shame and perish. Ace gestures grandly at Gracie, like he’s presenting a prize on a game show.

“So you should be Dad’s girlfriend! Then he won’t be sad anymore.” He says, like it’s an obvious solution. I make a choking sound that doesn’t resemble any known language. Gracie laughs, not loudly, not mockingly, just a soft, gentle chuckle, and pats each of the boys on the head like they’re well-behaved puppies. (They are absolutely not.) 

“Oh, you two are very sweet.” She says kindly, which is a generous interpretation of their behaviour.

“They’re something.” I mutter. Gracie gives me a sympathetic look. The kind adults give when they catch you in a deeply embarrassing moment and are politely pretending it isn’t happening.

“So… I was just looking for some marshroot powder and a packet of moon-sugar, if you have any?” She says lightly, 

“Yes. Yes, of course. Over here.” I stammer, desperate to redirect the conversation anywhere else. I gather the items while the boys continue their campaign right behind us.

“He cooks boring stuff. He makes stew ALL the time.” Ian informs her helpfully. 

“I like stew.” Gracie says diplomatically. 

“He snores.” Ace adds, nodding like this is vital information. 

“Ace!” I try again. They are not bothered by me. 

“He’s nice though. He does voices when he reads stories.” Ian finishes. 

“BOYS.” I say, getting louder. Gracie just smiles, patient and amused, like she’s used to dealing with small disasters wearing shoes. She brings her items to the counter, pays politely, and even compliments the shop.

“Thank you, Ulric. Your boys are wonderful.” She says kindly. I snort. 

“That’s one word for them.” I grumble. She laughs softly, adjusts the bag in her arm, and gives the twins a sweet wave.

“It was very nice meeting all of you.” She calls, then she steps out into the street, the bell chiming behind her as she goes.

The second the door closes, both boys whip around to face me, grinning like they’ve just single-handedly solved world peace. I stare at them. They stare back. We stand there in a silent standoff for a full five seconds before I finally snap.

“What in the actual world do you two think you were doing?!” I demand, sweeping a hand toward the door. They blink up at me, completely unfazed by my tone. Ace speaks first.

“We were helping!” He insists. Ian nods so hard he nearly topples over. 

“Yeah! Helping you not be sad anymore!” He explains. 

“I am not-” I start, then stop, then pinch the bridge of my nose. 

“Why do you think I’m sad?” I ask.  

“Because you don’t have a girlfriend.” Ace says it like this is the most obvious fact in the universe. Ian crosses his arms. 

“Oz is happy now ’cause he has Kacia. He was EXTRA smiley. You should be extra smiley too.” He reasons. I stare at them in disbelief.

“So you decided to… Kidnap a customer and try to make her my girlfriend?” I say slowly. 

“Not kidnap, we brought her nicely.” Ace argues. 

“She smelled like chocolate.” Ian adds, as if that somehow explains everything. I let out a long, long groan and lean both hands on the counter. 

“Boys, I don’t need a girlfriend to be happy.” I say, trying so hard to keep my voice calm. Ace and Ian exchange a confused look like that sentence physically hurts their brains. 

“But Oz said-” Ace starts. 

“I don’t care what Oz said.” I interrupt. 

“Listen to me. I AM happy.” I say firmly. 

“You don’t look happy.” Ace mumbles.

“That’s just my face!” I snap, then immediately sigh. 

“Look… Boys. Ace. Ian…” They both stand up straighter at the sound of their names. 

“I am happy.” I repeat more gently this time. 

“Because I have you two. You’re my family. You’re… More than enough. More than I ever expected, honestly.” I say sincerely. Their eyes widen at that, glowing a little brighter in the shop lights. Ian steps forward. 

“Even if we’re noisy?” He asks softly. 

“Yes.” I answer. Ace joins him. 

“Even if we make messes?” He adds. 

“Yes.” I respond. Ian bites his lip. 

“Even if we break stuff?” He continues. I pause… Then shrug. 

“Within reason.” I answer. Then wink at them. They exchange a quick grin before tackling me in a double hug, all elbows and knees and too pointy ears. I grunt but wrap an arm around each of them anyway.

“I don’t need a girlfriend to be happy, I have you.” I tell them firmly. Ace peeks up at me. 

“Does that mean we did it wrong?” He asks. 

“Oh, spectacularly wrong.” I say. Ian nods thoughtfully. 

“But it’s okay though, right? Even if you’re kinda mad at us?” He asks. 

“Because you love us, right?” Ace adds. That hits me right in the chest. I sigh, softer this time, and ruffle their hair. 

“Yeah.” I admit. I’m not a particularly well spoken person, but I should probably tell the boys I love them more often. They beam up at me, proud as anything. And even though I’m mortified beyond belief, I can’t help feeling just a little touched. Because as ridiculous as the whole thing was, as embarrassing as it’s going to be to ever see that woman again should she ever need to make another purchase, the truth is simple, my boys were just trying to make me happy.

The rest of the afternoon passes quickly. The boys are wild as ever, bouncing off shelves, arguing over who can jump farther, somehow starting a quiet game that still isn't actually quiet, but I’m feeling strangely soft, so I barely comment. Hopefully that means they’ll actually sleep tonight. It’s almost closing time when the bell rings again. I turn toward the door… And freeze. It’s her. Gracie. Damn it. 

“Hi.” I manage, awkwardly clearing my throat. 

“It’s Gracie, right?” I add. She nods, looking just as flustered as I feel.

“Yeah.” She responds. We stand there in stiff, uncomfortable silence. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot two little goblin heads poking over a shelf, eyes glowing like lamps. Of course the little beasts are spying. Gracie shifts her weight, then clears her throat softly.

“Well… I hope this isn’t too weird but…” She lifts her hands, and only then do I notice the white box she’s holding. “

I made a cake. For you and your boys.” She explains. Up above, there’s an earsplitting cheer followed by frantic scrambling. I have no idea how they got down so fast without breaking every bone in their bodies, but suddenly the twins are right beside me, vibrating like excited puppies.

“That’s very kind of you. You didn’t have to do that.” I, trying not to sound like someone who is dying inside from embarrassment.

“I wanted to.” She says quickly. Then her voice gets even higher and more nervous. 

“And… I thought that… Maybe, if you’re free sometime, we could get coffee?” She asks. My cheeks burn hot. I glance at the boys. They’re nodding so vigorously I’m worried their heads might detach.

“I… Uh…” I stammer. The truth is, despite the twins’ interference, Gracie seems kind. And sweet. And she came back. That counts for something.

“Yeah. I’d like that.” I finally say, giving a small, genuine smile. Her face lights up, not in a dramatic, movie-type way, just bright and real and warm, and it sends something soft straight into my chest. She sets the cake box on the counter. Instantly the boys lunge toward it. But she snaps into action, planting her hands on her hips. 

“WHAT do you think you’re doing?” She demands. The twins freeze mid-pounce. 

“Cake…” Ace says weakly, like maybe she hasn’t fully understood the situation. 

“Did you ask your father if you can have a piece of cake?” She prompts, raising an eyebrow. The boys shake their heads, wide-eyed. She taps her foot.

“Well?” She asks. The twins whirl toward me.

“Dad… Can we have cake… PLEASE?” Ace begs. Ian adds his own dramatic pleading. “Pleeeease.” He begs. 

“Uh… Yeah. Go ahead.” I say, still stunned by how easily she wrangled them.  

“Plates, please.” Gracie adds before they can tear into the box. 

“And no running.” She adds. No running. And they… Listen. What kind of witchcraft is this? We sit together at my counter and share the cake, which, it turns out, is really good, and Gracie and I make plans to get coffee on Friday. I suppose I’ll ask Oz and Kacia to babysit after all. When she leaves, I lock up the shop and herd the boys through the nightly routine, food, baths, putting their clothes in the hamper instead of flinging them at the ceiling fan, the usual chaos. Finally, I tuck them into bed. They’re already half-asleep, worn out and full of sugar and mischief. I stand there for a long moment, watching them settle. My boys are a handful. Hyperactive, mischievous and exhausting. They’re probably shaving years off my life. But they’re mine. And as I close the door softly behind me, I can’t help thinking, I wouldn’t trade them for anything.