Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 35

**KACIA**

Dave’s parents, Anna and Matt, are about as lovely as people get. And honestly, they remind me why I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for shifters. People love to make assumptions about them. That they’re all growls and dominance games, constantly sniffing each other and fighting over territory. And sure, some of that exists, especially among the more territorial packs. But mostly? Shifters are just tightly woven families, loyal to the bone, protective to a fault, and almost embarrassingly affectionate once they decide you’re one of their own. Something like that sounds pretty good to a half fae who knows that I would almost definitely be rejected by any fae relatives I might have. Thank goodness for my mum who is just wonderful. Oz and I are welcomed like distant cousins. Anna pulls us inside the moment she catches sight of us, fussing over drinks and biscuits like we haven’t just walked in to talk about her missing son. Her hands are constantly moving, pouring tea, opening cupboards, offering us snacks, rearranging coasters. I’m not sure she even realises she’s doing it. It’s just the kind of nervous energy that comes from trying not to worry too hard. Matt, on the other hand, is calmer. Stoic, even. He’s the type to stand with his arms folded and his voice low. But he answers every question I ask, even the uncomfortable ones. It’s clear that he’s worried too, he just doesn’t show it the same way Anna does. Dave, as it turns out, is twenty six and works as an apprentice mechanic at a local garage. He’s been there a few years, and from what they say, he enjoys it. Reliable, happy go lucky, always showing up with some weird new scratch or bruise and an even weirder story to explain it.

“He once told me he got a black eye because he tried to hug a goat that didn’t want to be hugged. He said the goat didn’t understand that it was personal.” Anna says, eyes bright with unshed tears. Oz snorts, and I catch the soft twitch of a smile on his face. Even Matt chuckles at that one. Apparently, they’ve already spoken to the boss, who confirmed Dave hasn’t been into work for several days, and didn’t call in sick either. He just didn’t show up. No argument. No warning. Just… Gone. They’ve already spoken to most of his friends and checked all his usual haunts. Nothing. But the garage still feels like the best place to start. His boss might have noticed something, a change in behaviour, a hint about where he might’ve gone, anything. Before we go, Anna presses a small stack of photos into my hands. I expect stiff, posed school pictures or something similar, but nope. These are all goofy, off guard snapshots. Dave grinning with grease on his nose. Dave making ridiculous faces while holding up engine parts. Dave standing next to a vending machine with two bags of chips and a triumphant look on his face.

“I figured it’d be easier to spot him this way, you’ll know him by the way he smiles.” She says softly. I swallow hard and nod. Oz, meanwhile, is carrying an armload of snacks, Anna insisted, and he looks like some kind of snack mule by the time we finally make it to the front door. Damn, I hope we find Dave soon. Because for all the warmth in that house, the worry underneath it is like a constant hum. Quiet but ever present and slowly driving everyone mad.

We pull into the gravel lot of the mechanic’s shop where Dave works. It’s one of those places with a crooked sign, mismatched building extensions, and the kind of oil stained concrete that tells you they know what they’re doing. We park, hop out, and start walking toward the front. And yep, Oz is still keeping his distance. Not obvious, not dramatic. He’s not leaping away from me or anything. He’s just being… Careful. Measured. Which is weird, considering this is the same guy who insisted on holding my hand for ‘safety reasons’ yesterday. The guy who practically radiates heat and always seems to find a reason to be in my personal space. Except today. Which raises a very important question, is he just keeping his distance out of politeness? Or is he avoiding me? Only one way to find out. I inch a little closer as we walk, no reaction.  Okay. Then I bump my elbow lightly into his side.

“Hey.” I say casually, like I’m not currently running a scientific experiment in social proximity. 

“Hopefully Dave’s boss knows something useful. Dave seems like a good guy. I really hope he’s alright.” I comment. Oz smiles, warm and easy. Then nudges me back with his elbow.

“Yeah, I agree.” He responds. Huh. So, he’s not entirely avoiding me. Good to know. I decide to take things a step further. Testing a theory.

“So… What’s your guess? Where do you think Dave’s ended up?” I ask, tone still casual. Then I briefly rest my hand on his forearm. Oz grins. 

“No idea where, but I’ll bet you a girl’s involved.” He declares. And then, he mirrors me. Places his hand on my arm in almost the exact same spot. Interesting.

“A girl?” I echo, studying him from the corner of my eye. He shrugs, smirking like he’s already solved the mystery. 

“He’s a twenty six year old guy. It’s always about a girl.” He says it like it should be obvious. I laugh despite myself. Okay. Time for phase two of this experiment. I reach out, tap his shoulder lightly, and then, very deliberately, run my hand down the length of his arm. A moment later, he casually reaches out and does the same to me, pretending to brush something off of my sleeve. Oh my gosh, he’s copying me. He’s actually copying every touch. Subtle. Casual. But absolutely, one hundred percent intentional. AND he thinks I haven’t noticed. Ohhh, this is going to be fun. I school my expression into polite curiosity and pretend I didn’t just uncover Oz’s entire strategic playbook. Let’s see how far this little mirroring game goes before he catches on. Or slips up. Or I push it just a little too far… 

Dave’s boss, Thomas, is exactly the kind of guy you'd expect to run a mechanic’s shop, gruff voice, permanently oil stained hands, and a tan so baked in, I can’t be sure if it’s grease or actual tan. He gives us a quick once over when we step inside and jerks a thumb toward the lot.

“If you’re here about your car, I can squeeze you in Thursday.” He offers. I snort, my car is barely worth maintaining. 

“It’s still soldiering on, thanks. But if it decides to die on me, I’ll know who to call.” I promise. He grunts in approval, already warming to us. I tell him why we’re really here, that Dave hasn’t been home in a few days and his parents are getting worried. Thomas’s expression pinches slightly. 

“Yeah, he hasn’t shown up here either.” His tone is casual, but there’s hesitation there. He shifts his weight, glancing at Oz, then back to me. Not suspicious, just protective.

“But…?” I prompt. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Didn’t want to get the kid in trouble with his folks. He is an adult after all. But, uh, he’s been spending a lot of time at the cafe next door. Buying coffee like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. Even brought me a caramel macchiato last week, and I didn’t even ask.” He says this as if it’s a big deal. Oz makes a soft noise of amusement beside me, and I feel the first urge to start messing with him again. I gently nudge my elbow into his arm. Light. Casual. He nudges me back without missing a beat. Thomas doesn’t notice. He’s still talking. 

“There’s a girl who works over there. Barista. Cute, from what I’ve seen. I think he’s sweet on her. They chatted a lot when he came by. She hasn’t been in all week either. She usually makes my coffee in the morning.” He informs us. Huh, maybe Oz’s theory about this being related to a girl isn’t so far from the truth after all.

“And you think they might’ve taken off together?” I ask. He gives a half shrug. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time a guy Dave’s age got distracted by a pretty face. He’s a good worker, hard to find those. My wife likes him too. I figured if he came back with his tail between his legs, I’d give him a few shifts to make up for it. But yeah. I'm worried now.” He admits reluctantly. While he talks, I reach over and brush my hand against Oz’s shoulder like I’m shifting my balance while I pretend to fix my shoe. A second later, his hand brushes my shoulder in the exact same way. I could laugh if it wouldn’t blow my cover. 

“Did he mention anything else?” I ask as I frown and then casually reach up and smooth my fingers through Oz’s hair, making a show out of fixing it for him. Oz freezes in place a little, but doesn’t stop me. Thomas shakes his head. 

“Nope. Didn’t say much. Just smiled a lot.” He confirms. Oz, with a face like he’s paying full attention, gives it a minute, then reaches over and fixes my hair in return. Seriously? I force myself not to react. Not yet. We get a general description of the girl, dark skin, curly hair, wears too many bracelets. No name, but it’s a start. 

I give Thomas my number and he promises to call if he hears anything, and we thank him before stepping out. I don’t know if I’ll RECEIVE the call, but it’s better than nothing. As we cross to the cafe, I decide it’s time to escalate this little game. I reach out and place my hand deliberately, gently, on Oz’s waist. More specifically, over where I know his tail is coiled and tucked under his shirt. I can feel the moment it registers in his body. A flicker of tension down his spine, a subtle stilling. He moves, like clockwork, ready to match the gesture, only to hesitate. There’s no tail on me to touch back. He slowly reaches towards my waist but I dance away out of his reach.

“I don’t have a tail,” I say sweetly. I glance up at him, and his jaw is slack. Stunned. Like I just yanked the rug out from under him and he’s still trying to process the fall. Oz’s mouth opens like he’s about to say something, but nothing comes out. Just bewildered silence and a bright flush blooming across his cheekbones. Caught. It’s perfect. After a whole morning of feeling confused and off balance, it feels so good to be the one in control. To watch him get flustered for once. I smirk, wink, and skip ahead into the cafe without waiting for him to recover. Maybe he’ll catch up. Maybe not. Either way? I’m calling this round a win.