Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 26

**OZ**

Talking to Vidar is… Interesting. And by interesting, I mean he manages to loop every single topic of conversation back to Taryn, the dryad woman I met outside. I tell him how I found the library, and he asks how I knew to look for him. I told him that Taryn sent me, and he just about beams. Not smiles. Beams. Like I’d just handed him a love letter instead of a paralysed half fae. I explain that Kacia was attacked by a basilisk. You know, very serious stuff. Life threatening. He hums thoughtfully and casually mentions he read a book about basilisks once that he’s been meaning to lend to Taryn. Completely deadpan. Like that’s a relevant and useful detail in this moment. If she were still in some kind of immediate danger, it would be annoying. But at this point, I’m more entertained than annoyed. Because this man? This six foot five slab of chiseled stone wrapped in a cardigan? He is absolutely and catastrophically gone on her. It gets worse. Or better, depending on how invested you are. He tells me, unprompted, which windows offer the best views of her garden. Then he corrects himself because he is actually telling me which windows give the best view of her tree. Apparently, he can see the upper canopy from the second floor window in the mythology section, and if he leans a little to the left, he can catch a glimpse of her when she’s tending to the lavender. I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know. But now I do. It’s incredible. I’ve never seen two people more obviously besotted with each other while being completely oblivious to the fact that it’s mutual. And the frustrating part? Neither of them seems even remotely interested in doing anything about it. They just... Pine. Quietly. Okay, maybe not so quietly, but eternally. Sure, I get that it’s complicated. Vidar can’t leave the library, he’s magically bound to the building. Taryn, being a dryad, is physically tethered to her tree and can’t go inside. There has GOT to be a way around that. Most supernaturals live hundreds of years. I find it very hard to believe that no dryad in history has ever wanted to go inside a building, or that no gargoyle has ever wanted to step off a doorstep and into someone’s arms. Although… I suppose it may be a little difficult to research and look into these matters when you can’t leave your immediate area. I can’t imagine never leaving home. From what I understand, most races like dryads and gargoyles aren’t really struck with wanderlust. I don’t know if it’s just because they know they don’t have the option or if it’s hardwired into them to enjoy staying in one place. Maybe that’s the issue, it hasn’t occurred to either of them that they COULD find a way to leave their home and see each other. Maybe that’s it. Maybe they don’t look for a solution BECAUSE they’re not wired to want more. Dryads and gargoyles tend to be rooted, both literally and figuratively. Neither of them are the wandering type. Maybe the thought of yearning for something outside their domain feels… Unnatural to them. Or maybe it just doesn’t occur to them that yearning is allowed. Still, it makes me ache a little, watching them pine over each other like that. So close. So obvious. And yet so impossibly stuck. I glance over at Kacia, still lying still, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, unmoving but very much present. I know that she’s listening and I can’t help but wonder what she thinks of this whole situation, because I know without a doubt, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t keep my feelings locked up like that. Not just the big ones. Any of them. I don’t want to spend centuries circling someone without ever reaching for them. I want to believe that If I cared that much about someone, if I felt something I knew was real, I would act on it. I want to believe that I would choose them, again and again. Without hesitation. Without waiting for the stars to magically align. I don’t ever want to end up like that, trapped by my own hesitation.

The thing about basilisk paralysis is that it’s magically induced. That means no antidote, no magic fix, no clever trick to reverse it early. It just has to wear off... However long that takes. It’s been four and a half hours since we got here. Kacia still hasn’t moved. At some point, maybe around hour two, I noticed her eyes were red rimmed and glistening. It took me a minute to realise it wasn’t from crying. She wasn’t blinking. She couldn’t blink. Her eyes were wide open, glassy and unblinking, and it made her stillness feel all the more wrong. Unnatural. Too quiet. I felt like an idiot for not noticing sooner. I don’t know much about paralysis. I’ve never seen someone stuck like this before. And I’m not exactly a healer. But I finally got the courage to lean over and gently press my fingers against her eyelids until they closed. She let out the tiniest sigh, barely more than a breath, and I could’ve dropped to the floor with relief. I think it helped. Still. It’s not enough. Her stillness gnaws at me. Not just because it’s unnatural, but because it’s Kacia. She always has something to say, some commentary, some smart remark. She never sits still unless she’s asleep, and even then, I suspect she moves around a lot. I could hear her moving around last night. Seeing her like this, lying flat and motionless on borrowed blankets in the back corner of a library, is deeply, viscerally wrong. With her eyes shut now, she looks almost peaceful. Too peaceful. If not for the faint, subtle rise and fall of her chest, I’d start to worry she was… No. She’s breathing so she’s alive. I shift closer without meaning to. At some point, I sit down beside her, knees drawn up, tail draped protectively over her like a barrier. Not that she needs one right now. The library is quiet and safe. But I need it. I need to feel that she’s there. That warmth that tells me she’s still alive, the soft movements of her breathing brushing against the underside of my tail help keep me steady. I consider, for a moment, trying to contact Mike. He’s her family, and he might be able to help, or at the very least, he might want to know. But if our roles were reversed, I don’t think I’d want my siblings rushing to see me like this. Helpless and frozen. Then again, Kacia is different. She might want him here. I glance around the room. Her bag is nearby, it was hooked over her body when we left and it managed to hang on this whole time. I’m pretty sure she has a phone in there somewhere. But even if I found it, I wouldn’t know how to work the damn thing. I’ve never made a successful phone call in my life. Every time I try, something goes wrong. Static. Dropped connections. Occasionally fire. Technology doesn’t really like demons. And most of the people I’d want to call wouldn’t answer anyway. They’re as magically scrambled as I am. Still, maybe if I was more like Kacia and I had human friends, it might be worth figuring out. But right now, I’m not apart from anyone I could contact via phone. Right now, I’m right here. And the only thing I can do for her is stay here. So that’s what I do.

The hours crawl by, but finally, FINALLY, Kacia starts moving again. Not much. Not fast. But it’s something. She still can’t stand or walk on her own, but with some help from me, she is able to sit up. She blinks a few times and looks at me through bleary eyes.

“If you ever carry me through town like a damsel in distress again, I’m going to stab you.” She rasps. I’ve never been so happy to be threatened in my life. Her voice is hoarse, barely more than a whisper, and her limbs are sluggish and uncoordinated, but she’s talking. She’s looking around. She’s blinking. That alone feels like a small miracle at this point. I’m not sure how much longer it’ll take for everything to return to normal, but the worst is definitely behind us. Her movements are jerky and stiff, her body sore from staying completely frozen for hours. Even sleeping people shift. She didn’t get even that much mercy. She looks utterly drained. Muscles not cooperating, skin pale and clammy, even her hair looks kind of greasy, although it’s hard to tell because she keeps so much product in it. It's like her body just remembered it exists and isn't entirely sure what to do with that information. And on top of everything, we’re both starving. Lunch never happened. Dinner’s come and gone. My stomach’s been making sounds that belong in a horror film. But I didn’t want to leave. Still don’t. Even with Vidar here, hulking, stone faced, library protector that he is, I couldn’t bring myself to step out. Not after what happened. Call it paranoia. Or something less generous. Sure, I could have gone and grabbed food. But Kacia still can’t eat. Her throat muscles are barely coming back online, and trying to eat anything now would be asking for a choking incident. I’m not about to risk that. Not even a bite. So I wait. We wait. Because eating in front of her would be cruel. Because food can wait. And because right now, nothing matters more than keeping her safe.