Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 39

**KACIA**

Now that we’ve found Dave and figured out what’s going on, everything starts moving fast. Turns out, having a human in the mix isn’t all bad. Amy just casually picks up her phone, taps in Mikey’s number, and gets through to him on the first try. The phone rings. He answers. Like that’s a normal, everyday thing. I’m so jealous I could scream. People always say it’s only fair. Supernaturals get magic, so humans made technology. Cool, great, good for them. But what about me? I don’t have magic. I just get the side effects. It’s like being half vampire but still allergic to garlic without any of the super strength. Technology glitches around me like I’m some kind of static charged chaos gremlin. My texts don’t send. My GPS forgets I exist. Wi-Fi dies if I look at it wrong. But can I teleport? Conjure things? Glamour myself? No, no, and no. I get the drawbacks of both sides of my heritage and the perks of... Basically neither. Okay, fine, I do have a FEW things going for me. I’m lighter and a bit more graceful than your average human, thanks fae blood. And unlike full blooded fae, I can lie without my tongue catching fire or my soul imploding or whatever it is that’s meant to happen if they say something untrue. I was never really clear on that point. I can also see magic, like auras, enchantments, spells in motion. But honestly? It’s usually like noticing the colour of someone’s shoes. You might notice it, but it rarely tells you anything useful unless you already know what you’re looking at. Like ‘oh cool, teal glow. That means… Uh… Hunger? Murder? Mild indigestion?’ It's not exactly a user-friendly skill. Still. Would be really nice to be able to just call my best friend when I need him. Without worrying that I might need to sacrifice a chicken to the Wi-Fi gods. Anyway. Thanks to Amy and her blessedly normal phone, Mikey is now officially on the lookout for Jerry the blood obsessed dhampire. He’s already planning to take him into custody and start the ‘referral process’ for supernatural rehab which is going to basically have to mean just handing him over to a vampire capable and willing to babysit him and teach him to control himself better. Meanwhile, after wrangling a heartfelt promise from Dave that he will go visit his worried parents within the next twenty four hours, and bring Amy with him, because obviously, Oz and I finally take our leave.

Back in the car, I glance sideways at Oz. He’s watching me with that quiet little smirk that says he knows I’ve been spiralling in my head this whole time. I don’t say anything. Because yeah, I may be half fae and half human, but at the moment, I’m one hundred percent tired. And also... Maybe a little bit proud. Because even if I CAN’T conjure lightning or cast glamour spells, I can out bluff, out snark, and outmaneuver almost anyone I come across, including a certain flirtatious demon in a coffee shop. Maybe that’s MY superpower. 

“So, where to now?” Oz asks, leaning back in the passenger seat like we’re on a casual road trip instead of trying to track down blood junkie half vampires and unravel supernatural politics. I shrug. 

“Lunch?” I suggest. 

“We’re not getting the rest of the info from Mikey for a few hours, he’s going to be busy sorting things out for Amy. Oh, and we should swing by the library later.” I say, thinking out loud. Oz arches a brow. 

“To check out a novel?” He jokes. 

“To check in with Clarence.” I say with a smirk. 

“Let him know Dave’s fine. Maybe, politely, suggest that Tracey might want to head over to the police station and offer his services as a ‘rehab counsellor’ for Jerry.” I explain. 

“Do you think Tracey will even be there?” Oz asks. I grin. 

“Oh, I’d be surprised if he wasn’t. He’s practically a fixture. And if he is out, Clarence will know where he’s gone. He tracks people like they’re books in his collection, always catalogued, always accounted for. Sure, we get loaned out and wander around town, but in Clarence’s mind, every supernatural around here is still his.” I say with a smile. Clarence might be grumpy, but he really does look out for us all. Oz laughs, clearly amused. 

“That makes a strange amount of sense. He does give off librarian dragon vibes.” He agrees. 

“Exactly.” I say with a nod. Then Oz goes quiet for a second, then looks over at me. 

“Can I ask you something weird?” He asks. 

“That’s literally every conversation we’ve ever had.” I say. He ignores the jab, frowning thoughtfully. 

“It just hit me… Dave could smell I was a demon, right? So why couldn’t he tell you’re half fae? I figured it out. And now that I know, it’s so obvious I can’t believe no one else has.” He points out. I glance at him. He sounds more confused than smug, which is new.

“Because half fae aren’t supposed to exist, it’s not on anyone’s radar. Most people don’t jump straight to ‘impossible- level rarity’ when they smell something weird. They assume I’ve just been near a fae, or that I’m wearing some kind of magic themed perfume.” I tell him. Oz tilts his head. 

“So you’ve basically been hiding in plain sight?” He says doubtfully. 

“Pretty much.” I pause, then add, 

“Also, most supernaturals haven’t even met a fae before, let alone know what we’re supposed to smell like. They don’t exactly do brunch with shifters and witches.” I point out. He nods slowly.

“Demons must have sharper noses than I thought.” I comment. I expect gloating, but he barely reacts. 

 “Yeah, I guess…” Oz trails off distractedly. Huh. No teasing. No dramatic flare. Just… Vague agreement? That’s suspicious. I narrow my eyes at him. 

“You really not going to use this as an excuse to gloat about your demon senses being superior?” I demand. He finally smiles, just a little.

“Thought I’d try something different.” He responds. I stare at him for a beat. 

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned.” I say, my tone is a little alarmed. He smirks again. 

“You’ll figure it out, sweetheart.” He says sweetly. Aaand back to the pet names. There he is ladies and gentlemen. Still, I file that moment away. Oz isn’t one to let something go without a reason, and that little pause? That thoughtful silence? He’s definitely chewing on something. And I’m pretty sure it’s not lunch.

We're halfway to lunch when I glance up at the rearview mirror and freeze. There’s someone in the backseat. I slam on the brakes. Oz swears as the car jolts to a screeching halt. My heart is hammering, adrenaline roaring through my veins. I whip around in my seat, hand already going for the blade tucked into my jacket. But there’s nothing. No one. The back seat is completely empty.

“What the hell?” I whisper. Oz is already half out of his seat. 

“Are you okay? What just happened?” He demands, clearly on high alert. I grip the steering wheel, trying to steady my breathing. 

“I- I thought I saw someone. In the backseat. Just for a second. I definitely saw eyes, but now they’re gone.” I explain. He’s probably going to think I’m crazy. He doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even raise an eyebrow. Instead, Oz goes stone serious. 

“Stay here.” He says, voice low. Then he’s out of the car, checking every door, every corner, his senses on high alert. I sit frozen, still staring at the back seat. Oz circles around, opens the rear doors, and checks inside again. Then he opens the boot. Runs his hand along the inside of the door frames. He even sniffs the air.

“Any signs?” I ask, hating how shaky my voice sounds. He shakes his head slowly. 

“No. Nothing physical. No forced entry, no traces of portal magic, no scent of teleportation or of anyone else being in this vehicle since I cleaned it. Nothing to suggest anyone was ever in here at all.” He says confidently. I sag back in my seat, overwhelmed by a mix of relief and confusion.

“Am I going crazy?” I murmur, mostly to myself. But Oz hears me. He crouches beside my door, resting his arms on the windowsill so we’re eye to eye.

“No, you’re not crazy. If you saw something, then something’s going on. We just don’t know what yet.” He says firmly. His calm confidence is strangely comforting. I nod, grateful for the lack of judgment. Eventually, with no answers and no evidence, we have no choice but to keep driving. But Oz stays extra alert, his eyes scanning every mirror, every movement outside the car.

“I’ll keep watch, if something’s following us, I’ll find it.” He promises quietly. I nod again, hands still tense on the wheel. I don’t know what I saw, but if something is following me, at least I’m not facing it alone.