Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 77

**KACIA**

Note to self, bring Sarah a thank you gift. Seriously, Mikey’s wife is a lifesaver. Lending me her car after mine got torched was above and beyond. I mean, yeah, it’s technically just sitting in their driveway most days because Sarah’s a bit of a homebody and when she does go out, it’s almost always with Mikey and they take his car. But still, gesture appreciated. Especially considering my own vehicle is currently a scorched husk with melted cup holders. My insurance company is not going to like this. What even is the correct terminology for a claim like that? ‘Cause of damage, fight with ancient soul consuming wraith.’ Yeah. That’ll go over well. I’m sure the guy on the phone is definitely trained in ‘paranormal incident assessment.’ That is, assuming that I can even get through. Phone calls are terrible. And computers are worse. I wonder if I should find out where their offices are and just go there in person… Or I could just ask Mikey to help me out with it. That might be easier.  Still. At least I’m not on foot. And honestly? The day’s turning out better than expected, because operation ‘Turn the Tables on Oz’ is going spectacularly. He’s rattled. Completely thrown off balance. Which is, frankly, delightful. For days HE’S been the one doing the flirting, dropping smooth lines like they cost him nothing, using that lazy half smile and that damned tail to taunt me and leave me stunned and confused. But now? Now he’s the one stumbling. Biting back comments. Avoiding eye contact just a second too late. His posture stiffens every time I brush a hand near his shoulder or throw out a line he knows is loaded. It’s glorious. I mean, I told him I was going to change his mind. That I wasn’t just going to accept him walking away without a fight. But there was still a little part of me that wasn’t sure. That worried maybe he really did want to go. That all of this, our moments, the flirting, the touches, was just Oz being Oz. That I’d imagined something that was never really there. But now? Now I’m certain. Because no one looks at someone like that, like they’re trying not to drown, unless they’re already halfway in over their head. Every time I tease him, I can see the battle play out across his face. The twitch of his lips. The restraint in his shoulders. The second of silence where he’s clearly thinking something flirtatious, and refusing to say it. It’s intoxicating. I glance at him from the corner of my eye as we walk, and sure enough, he’s still looking. Trying not to, but failing spectacularly. I smirk to myself. Let’s see how long he can hold out. 

It’s a good thing I’m good at multitasking. Because flirting with a demon and solving a supernatural mystery at the same time? Yeah, that’s basically my whole life now. And honestly? I’m thriving. Normally I’d approach something like this carefully. Quiet steps, shadows, waiting until the coast was clear. But I’m still bruised, sore, and definitely not in the mood to go crawling through bushes like some low-budget spy movie. Besides, let’s be real, Oz is not exactly the embodiment of subtlety. Tall, dark, broody (mostly because of me), and looking like he stepped out of a modeling contract with dangerous written across his cheekbones. He stands out like a sore thumb. So instead? We improvise. I glance at him casually as I step out of the car. 

“Hey Oz? Play along, okay?” I tell him. That’s all the warning he gets. Before he can question it, I’m already walking, no, strutting, up the garden path toward the house. Head held high. Confident. Relaxed. Totally not about to lie through my teeth. I hear the footsteps behind me a second later, faster paced. He’s definitely chasing.

“Princess, I-” He starts, clearly alarmed. But I don’t have time for his doubts or lectures, so I do what any reasonable person would do, I press the doorbell. He lets out a long, frustrated sigh. I don’t even have to look to know he’s doing that thing where he rubs the bridge of his nose like he’s resisting the urge to melt into the ground. Too late. We’re committed now. A few seconds later, the door opens, and an elderly woman peeks out. She looks friendly enough. Grey curls, floral cardigan, that vaguely suspicious look all grandmothers give to unannounced visitors. 

“Hello?” She asks, curious but cautious. I plaster on a slightly embarrassed pout and hunch my shoulders like I’m a little flustered.

“Hi there.” I say with a sheepish smile. 

“This is SO embarrassing, but our car won’t start. My boyfriend-” I gesture toward Oz, who visibly twitches.

“Well he INSISTED that he knew how to fix it the last time this happened and yet... Here we are. Stranded again.” I sigh dramatically, toss in a helpless shrug, then shoot her a conspiratorial smile. 

“It’s a good thing he’s handsome, right?” I wink at Oz. He groans out loud. The woman’s eyes flick toward Oz, who looks like he’s trying not to combust. She softens slightly and gives a small smile of her own.

“Yes, he is.” She agrees, surprisingly quick. I giggle, full on fluttery lashes and all. 

“Yeah, so the thing is, he left his phone at home and mine’s gone flat.” I continue. 

“Would you mind if I just popped in for a second to make a quick call? I’d really appreciate it.” I ask sweetly. She hesitates. Eyes flick back to Oz. I can feel him trying to shrink into himself to seem less threatening. Which is hilarious, considering he’s a giant. He would be better off just smiling. But apparently it doesn’t matter, because I’m just charming enough to balance him out. She nods slowly. 

“Yes, if you like. I only have a landline, but you’re welcome to come in and use it.” She decides. I beam. 

“You are SO kind, thank you.” I gush. And just like that, we’re in.

I make a big show of pretending to call a towing company while Annie, our lovely, floral clad host, immediately turns her attention to Oz. He’s perched stiffly on her flower print couch like he’s afraid to wrinkle it. She bustles in with a tray of mismatched china and sets a steaming cup of tea in his hands like it’s an offering. He accepts it like it might bite him. 

“And how long have you two been dating, dear?” She asks sweetly, eyes crinkling as she sits across from him.

“Oh… A… A while?” Ae answers awkwardly, as if ‘a while’ is the best lie he can manage on short notice. I raise an eyebrow from across the room and let out an exaggerated sigh. Time to save the mission with some dramatic flair.

“A while?” I repeat, pretending to be offended. 

“Baby, you can’t tell me you’ve forgotten. It’ll be two years in May!” I say with false exasperation. I even toss in a pout for good measure, turning to Annie like I’m the long suffering partner of a forgetful man. Oz blinks. 

“Uh. Right. Sorry, princess. I did forget. I’ll… Make it up to you later?” He tries for casual and ends up somewhere between confused and deeply uncomfortable. Honestly, it’s endearing. He’s terrible at lying. Which is hilarious, considering the fact that he’s literally a demon. You’d think he’d have a better poker face. Maybe if he stopped fighting the idea of us, this kind of thing would be easier. Maybe we wouldn’t need a fake relationship when the real one is right there, waiting to be acknowledged. Annie chuckles, clearly charmed by the awkward energy between us. Probably thinking his awkwardness is because he messed up. 

“Oh, two years. That’s so sweet. My Jacob and I were together for thirty-two years. He passed away last spring.” Her smile falters and something heavy settles in her voice. I feel a pang of guilt for lying to her.

“I’m so sorry.” I say, and this time my voice is sincere. 

“That’s a long time.” I add. My eyes drift up to the photos lined along the mantle. There’s one of Annie with a man, greying, kind eyes, arm around her shoulders.

“Is that him?” I ask, pointing. She follows my gaze and nods, wistful. 

“Yes, that’s my Jacob. Maybe not quite as handsome as your young man over there…” She gives Oz a playful glance, which makes him nearly choke on his tea. 

“But he was a good provider. A good father.” She sighs again, heavier this time. 

“And… Are these your sons?” I ask, pointing to another photo, this one with three teenage boys grinning beside her. Something about them catches in my memory. Vaguely familiar. The shape of their eyes. Their stance. 

“Yes. My three boys. I always hoped for a daughter, someone like you, but fate had other plans. Still, they grew up just fine, and they still take good care of me.” She says, smiling now. Annie walks to the far end of the mantle and picks up a different photo, more recent. Three men in their late twenties, maybe thirties now. It looks like the photo was taken at Christmas or something, all three of them in silly hats with beers in their hands.  The moment I see them clearly, I freeze. I know those faces. Not from memories or vague feelings, but from the team of drainers. Every single one of them.

“They look so much like friends of ours.” I say, carefully turning the photo toward Oz. 

“Don’t they, Oz sweetie? Those friends Mikey mentioned?” I ask pointedly. Oz catches on instantly. He tenses slightly and nods, playing along while he confirms my suspicions. 

“Yes, darling. They do.” He says, voice low. Well. That settles that. This is definitely the right place. Annie is their mother, which explains why the house is so well kept, why the financial records pointed here. They’re paying her bills. But by the way she talks, I’m guessing they’re not exactly dropping by for tea. Annie keeps chatting with us, content to reminisce about her boys. I don’t think she has any idea what they’re involved in. And I’m not about to be the one to shatter that illusion. Eventually, I glance at the time and ease us toward the door.

“Well, thank you so much for letting us use your phone, Annie, and it’s been lovely chatting with you.” I say, standing with a grateful smile. 

“We should probably go wait by the car. Maybe we’ll get lucky and it’ll start behaving again.” I comment. She nods, rising slowly to walk us out. 

“Of course, dear. I hope you get home safe. And take good care of each other.” She says warmly. I exchange a glance with Oz as we step back outside. The air feels cooler now, heavier with everything we’ve just learned. Turning them in would be a lot easier if their mother wasn’t so likeable. Damn it. This sucks.