Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 83

**KACIA**

We ask around about my father for a while. It’s awkward, honestly. I’m not used to asking questions like this, personal ones. Ones that make me feel weirdly vulnerable and visible at the same time. Questions that sort of require some kind of self-disclosure and open me up to polite interrogation. But Oz helps. He hangs back when I need space and steps in when people get too nosy, casually deflecting and redirecting questions that feel just a little bit too intrusive, his presence steady and grounding beside me. We start with the obvious people. Vidar squints at me like I’ve asked him to recite the entirety of ‘Magical History Volume One’ from memory. He frowns at the name, scratches at his head, and eventually shrugs.

“Kacian… Sounds vaguely familiar.” He admits. 

“He might’ve come through here once or twice, but if he did, he kept to himself. I don’t recall having any conversations with him. You could ask Taryn. With where her tree is located, she likely sees just about every person who comes in and out of this building.” He suggests. His response is not surprising. Vidar’s always been more of a book hoarder than a people person.

“Uh, yeah. Maybe we can try to catch her on the way out.” I agree. He nods, satisfied that he’s done his best to help. I spot Izzy out of the corner of my eye, she pops her head around the end of a shelf, eyes bright, as if she’s excited to see us. Or maybe she’s just been waiting for something interesting to happen.

“Hi Izzy.” I greet her, a little warily. Last time I saw her I discovered she’s some kind of ancient Witness person. I have no idea what that even really means, but she seems basically exactly the same as she usually is.

“You two have been so boring lately.” Izzy complains with a pout, but then her expression brightens. 

“But this is kind of interesting. Finally you’re asking some fun questions! I used to watch Kasian sometimes. He never asked fun questions either.” She adds. My eyes widen. 

“You watched my father?” I ask excitedly. She shakes her head.

“No, I watch you. But I need the whole story. How a half fae came to be is curious. I like beginnings… And endings. It’s the middle bits that are always long and boring.” She sighs dramatically, tossing her curls over her shoulder. 

“Right… So, can you tell me anything about my father?” I ask hopefully. Izzy makes a face.

“No. Why would I do that? You were there too! It was a big day!” She points out. I’m momentarily confused. 

“You mean at my birth?” I ask, not sure she can be serious. She nods, completely sincere. 

“How would I remember back then?” I demand. Izzy tilts her head.

“What do you mean?” She asks blankly. 

“Isolde… You do realise that most people don’t remember things that happen when they are babies…” Oz comments dryly. She blinks. 

“Really? How strange.” She comments. Then goes quiet. I wait a moment then try again. 

“So, will you tell me about him?” I ask her again. She shakes her head. 

“Nope.” She says shortly. 

“No? Why not?” I ask, incredibly frustrated. 

“Because if you wanted to know you shouldn’t have forgotten.” She lectures. I clench my hands into fists and Oz puts an arm around my shoulders and tips me against his side, comforting me with a half hug. I sigh.

“You’re absolutely no help.” I tell Izzy flatly. She beams a smile. 

“Correct.” She agrees. Ugh, I need to move on before I lose my temper. 

This is really starting to feel like a dead end, now that it’s getting later and the humans are starting to clear out, more magical people arrive and I am able to ask a few of the more long lived individuals. So far I’ve had no luck. I’m just about ready to call it when we spot Tracey in the cafe. He spots Oz and I walking past and marches over to us.

“YOU! You’re the ones who told the POLICE to contact me! Now I’m saddled with a smartass kid with a blood addiction! Do you have any idea how much work that is? How much supervision he needs?” Tracey demands. I shrug. 

“It can’t be that much, you still made it here didn’t you.” I point out. Tracey narrows his eyes. 

“I needed a break so I locked him in my basement.” He says smugly. I recoil in shock.

“You did what now?” I ask. Tracey rolls his eyes. 

“Oh no need to look so shocked. My basement is very comfortable. It has its own bathroom and a big flatscreen TV. It’s set up to be safe from the sun. I’m not abusing the kid or anything. I was just sick of his whining and had to make sure he was secure before I left. If I hadn’t taken him in he would be locked in a jail cell anyway. Believe me, my basement is MUCH nicer.” He rants. I blink. 

“Oh… Okay then. Well… Sorry about that. It’s just, you’re the most… Responsible and… Respectable vampire I could think of.” I tell him, laying the flattery on thick. Tracey gives me a face that tells me he knows EXACTLY what I’m trying to do. But he doesn’t disagree either.

“I suppose that’s… Reasonable. But if you find any more brats in need of babysitting, leave me out of it. One is more than enough for me.” He grumbles. 

“Sure. So… How is Jerry anyway?” I ask. Tracey shrugs, ‘

“He’s in withdrawal. There’s a lot of yelling and complaining. If I have to hear about Amy one more time I’m going to hurl. You definitely owe me for this.” He adds. I nod.

“Sure thing Tracey, if there’s ever anything I can help you with, let me know. And while I know I’m not in a position to ask you for more favours, I do have a question for you.” I edge. He sighs.

“Go on then…” He says flatly. 

“I was wondering if you ever met… My father. A fae named Kasian.” I ask, not particularly optimistic. To my surprise, he actually pauses.

“Kasian?” He repeats, tilting his head. 

“Tall? Violet hair, kind of… Formal?” He asks. My pulse skips and my eyes widen. I nod eagerly.

“Yes, that’s him.” I confirm. Tracey hums, tapping his chin with a gloved finger.

“I didn’t know him well, but yeah. I remember him coming in a few times. Always during the evenings, always alone. He was distant, but… Polite. Or polite for a fae, anyway.” He adds. I blink. 

“Polite?” I echo. He nods. 

“He wasn’t warm, exactly. Still had that sharp edge. But he wasn’t cruel. Some of them get very... Haughty. Or cold. But he’d always say thank you. He’d hold the door for people. He once corrected someone’s pronunciation of a very obscure magical term and then apologised for interrupting. I remember thinking that was the strangest thing. A fae, apologising.” He says thoughtfully. I stare at him. Somehow, that image hits me harder than I expected.

“He was blunt.” He adds after a moment. 

“Said some pretty weird things sometimes too. Kind of insulting, but not mean, if that makes sense? Like… He wasn’t trying to hurt feelings. Just said whatever he was thinking. Probably the no-lying thing that fae have. I suppose it would make them come across a bit harsh at times.” He reflects. I nod slowly. That does make sense. And weirdly, it sounds familiar. Like I’ve inherited that same unfiltered edge and just learned to buffer it with sarcasm and smiles. 

“Do… Do you know what he was doing when he came here?” I ask. Tracey shrugs. 

“Looking at books I suppose. He spent a lot of time around the romance section.” He adds. Romance? That’s weird. But- Oh… But that’s my mother’s favourite genre. To this day she regularly comes down to the library to look for new favourites. She did say he followed her around a lot. I’m not sure how much I actually learned, but at least I know that my father wasn’t… Totally hateable. I mean there is at least one person other than my mother who remembers him… Maybe not fondly, but in a positive light at least. 

“Thanks.” I say, voice quiet. Tracey just nods and moves on, like he didn’t just hand me the most concrete memory of my father I’ve ever gotten. Oz says nothing, but he’s watching me closely, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I don’t know what to do with the weight in my chest. It’s not grief exactly. It just feels like my father, someone I’ve only ever imagined, is just suddenly taking up a little more space in the world. A mostly polite fae. I think I kind of like that.