Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 84

**OZ**

 When we leave the library, Kacia is quiet. Not the sharp, brittle kind of quiet that means she’s about to snap at someone or launch into action before she’s ready, but the thoughtful kind. Her shoulders are looser than usual, her steps slow but steady. I don’t ask what she’s thinking. I don’t need to. I think she’s… Content. Or close enough to it. Which, given the subject matter, is more than I expected. Researching her long lost father is the kind of thing that could’ve gone very, very badly. And yet, here she is. A little worn down, maybe, but not unravelled. Something in her seems… Steady. Curious, sure. But not broken open. Still, she’s clearly turning things over in her head. I can practically hear the wheels spinning. I wonder if this changes anything for her. For so long, she’s acted like she didn’t care. Like finding out more about her father would be a waste of time, or worse, a risk. But I’ve known her long enough now to see the difference between not caring and pretending not to. And I think she’s starting to admit that, too. At least to herself. I think, maybe, she’s going to want to know what happened to him. And I wouldn’t blame her. I can’t imagine not knowing my own father. Even if mine's been gone for a few years now, at least I had time with him. I had memories. Kacia doesn’t even have that. Just a name. A hair colour. A handful of secondhand impressions from strangers. When we reach the car, she heads straight for the hood and checks her phone, which she’d left resting there in the desperate hope that being away from our magic might make it behave better. Still nothing. No reply from Mikey. Not even a ‘got it.’ She frowns at the screen, then shrugs like she expected as much. Maybe he hasn’t seen it. Maybe it never even sent. Hard to say. The phone’s at four percent, blinking like it’s dying of spite. She pockets it and turns to me.

“Alright gorgeous, I think it’s time we check out that address.” Her voice is calm. Steady. Like the library was one part of the puzzle, and now we’re back to business. I nod, already moving toward the passenger door. I know I shouldn’t flirt back, but really what difference does it make? She knows that I’m thinking it, and as she proved earlier, she will call me out on it.

“Lead the way, darling.” I respond with a smile. 

Kacia seems almost… Excited. Not in the reckless, ‘let’s poke the bear’ kind of way. More like she's finally been let off the leash after a day of enforced patience and emotional introspection. Honestly, I can’t blame her. She’s been still and focused for hours. She needs motion now. A task. Something to do with all that fizzing energy. She can’t deal with the problem of her father or her heritage right now, but the drainers? That’s something we might be able to make progress on. As we pull up to the street listed in the new address, I see the shift in her body language immediately. She sits up straighter, eyes sharpening with interest as she takes in the scene in front of us. Now THIS is more what we expected the first time. Overgrown yards choked with weeds or wilted from neglect. Graffiti scrawled across battered fences and half boarded windows. Rusted out cars sitting dead in driveways. There’s a distinct aura of ‘nothing good happens here,’ like the street has given up on even pretending to be safe.

“Now this is more like it.” Kacia says, practically beaming as she unclips her seatbelt. 

“This is the kind of place I might actually find sketchy blood drainers. I doubt I’m going to run into any sweet little old ladies who make me feel horribly guilty here.” She adds. Her tone is dry, but there’s a flicker of real relief underneath it. No distractions. No moral dilemmas. Just something tangible. 

“That’s true.” I agree, scanning the street. 

“If there are any little old ladies living here, they’re probably absolute legends. Hardened survivors. Probably stronger and more capable than both of us put together.” I joke. 

“Exactly.” She says, with a little satisfied nod. We sit for a moment, letting the mood settle around us like fog.

“So… What’s the plan?” I glance toward her. She shrugs with the kind of casual confidence that suggests the plan is not particularly well thought out and definitely at least slightly illegal.

“The plan? It mostly involves peeping in through windows and hoping I don’t see anything incredibly gross or disturbing.” She shudders a little, visibly cringing at some internal memory. I raise a brow. 

“Why do I get the impression you’re speaking from experience?” I ask. She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she just stares off into the distance, expression going blank. Like she’s reliving a moment she desperately wishes she could forget. A full body horror film playing just behind her eyes.

“Don’t ask, you don’t want to know…”  She mutters. Now I REALLY want to know. But I don’t push it.

“Fair enough.” I say mildly, opening my door. 

“But if this turns into an incident involving necromantic creatures, broken bones or having my blood drained, I’m vetoing all future plans that involve window peeping.” I declare. Kacia just snorts and slides out of the car beside me, shaking off the lingering chill of whatever memory tried to follow her here.

“Deal. But I make no promises about cursed basements.” She says with a smirk. 

“Of course not.” I answer dryly. 

Kacia is, predictably, furious at the height of the windows. She stretches up on her toes, arms reaching, neck craning, and immediately winces as her ribs protest. She hisses through her teeth and drops back down with a frustrated groan. 

“Don’t you dare.” I say quietly, my voice low enough not to carry. Just in case we’ve already got unwanted ears. She shoots me a glare, but it’s half-hearted.

“Fine. You tell me what’s going on in there. Damn tall person.” She mutters. Her tone is sour, like my genetics personally betrayed her. I shrug and move past her, stepping up to the window. It’s grimy and smudged, but I can still make out the basic layout. Living room, I think. There’s a sagging couch, some mismatched furniture, and a weird stain on the carpet that I don’t want to investigate. No lights. No movement. 

“Nothing to report. Unless you want a riveting description of a really depressing couch.” I say. Kacia groans under her breath. 

“Ugh. Fine. Next window.” She grumbles, not enjoying being sidelined. Still, she’s not ready to give up, not by a long shot. I gesture for her to take the lead, and we start to circle the building, keeping low and quiet. The backyard is a mess, tall grass, a broken swing set, and a couple of garden gnomes that look like they’ve seen some things. As we round the corner a light flicks on. 

It’s a floodlight. Bright, blinding and brutal. Shit. Someone’s seen us. Kacia reacts fast, ducking behind a wild, overgrown bush that probably hasn’t been trimmed in a decade. I look around, nothing. No bush, no fence, no conveniently placed statue of concealment. Just open space and me, taller, broader, very visible. I groan softly. There’s nowhere to hide. The best I can do is press myself up against the wall and hope whoever’s coming outside isn’t the observant type. Maybe they won’t look to the right? The door swings open with a bang. Footsteps. Someone steps out. It’s Elias, I think. Mid-twenties, same hair as the photo Mikey showed us. Slight build, wary posture, holding a sagging bag of garbage like it personally offended him. 

“I’m taking it now, geez!” He yells over his shoulder, clearly arguing with someone inside. Huh, maybe we haven’t been spotted, he’s just taking out the garbage. The door swings closed behind him. I look around and fight the urge to curse when I realise that his path to the bins is going to lead him directly past me. There is no WAY that he won’t see me.  He turns, takes a couple steps toward the bins, directly toward me and then… Freezes. Shit. His eyes go wide. He sees me immediately. Of course he does. There’s no way he wouldn’t. From the corner of my eye, I see Kacia shift slightly, starting to rise from behind her bush. Elias blinks. His mouth opens. This is NOT going to go well.