Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 95

**OZ**

With the decision made, Angelo heads out on his own. No idea how he gets around in public without drawing attention to the fact he’s… Well, less than human, but he doesn’t seem concerned. That alone suggests he’s got his own tricks. Kacia offers to go with him. So do I. He refuses both of us with the kind of polite stubbornness that says this is happening my way. His reasoning? He doesn’t want to ‘risk his friend getting in trouble.’ I can tell Kacia’s torn between respecting his choice and bolting after him anyway. I still have no idea how he’s sending this message, which leaves me more than a little uneasy. Fae communication is unlikely to be straightforward, or safe. Sarah stands in the doorway as he disappears down the street, her arms folded, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Are you worried about him?” I ask, partly curious, partly trying to pin down what that look means. She blinks, as if pulled from a thought. 

“Huh? No, he’ll be fine. I was just thinking that since he’s going to stay here, I should get another house key cut so he can have his own. Maybe I’ll get that done tomorrow…” Her voice trails off into logistics. I glance at Mikey. He just shrugs like this is my life now. So apparently Angelo just… Lives here now. Well, that solves the problem of Kacia needing to find him somewhere to stay, but it’s still a little odd. A brownie moving in with two completely ordinary humans, it’s the kind of arrangement that would raise eyebrows in most places I’ve been. I can’t help wondering if there’s some kind of group, council, or… Whatever…That monitors situations like this. Back home, there are rules about who can know what, who can live where, and what level of magic exposure is acceptable for non magical beings. Not that we really have any of those back home, but since a lot of demons tend to travel, the rules exist anyway, just in case. Here? Sarah, Mikey, and Dave’s girlfriend Amy are all human and fully aware magic exists. That’s not counting the entire gang of drainers, though Elias, I suppose, has some magical blood tucked far back in the family tree. It’s the kind of thing I should know more about if I’m going to keep operating here. I know enough to visit. Not enough to stay. Then again, if all goes to plan, I won’t be staying here long term anyway. So maybe it doesn’t really matter after all. 

Angelo hadn’t actually said how long he planned to be gone, so Kacia and I end up hanging around with Mikey and Sarah until after lunch. Sarah, in full excited mother-to-be mode, is bursting to tell us about the baby names they’re considering, the nursery plans, and, apparently, her expectations of Kacia as godmother.“I’m really hoping you’ll be the person my child calls for help if, for some reason, they can’t talk to us.” She says. 

“But I also want to make it clear, your job is to spoil our child, to buy the kind of loud or messy gifts that will make me want to murder you, to sneak the kid into movies they shouldn’t see, to never have them in bed on time when you babysit, and to give them far too much junk food every single visit.” Sarah delivers her speech with mock sternness, but there’s a flicker of a smile in her eyes.

“Are we clear?” She finishes, raising a brow. Kacia nods gravely, hand over her heart like she’s taking a sacred oath. 

“Crystal. I will aspire to be the best source of harmless rebellion I can possibly be.” She says sincerely/ 

“Good.” Sarah’s smile widens, clearly satisfied. Mikey groans theatrically. 

“Between the two of you, my kid’s going to grow up to be trouble. Probably end up with damn purple hair.” He grumbles good naturedly. Both women laugh.

“Mikey…” Kacia says, shaking her head. 

“You DO realise purple hair isn’t contagious and that we’re not actually related, right?” She questions. He shrugs. 

“No, but hair dye exists. I’m sure you’ll find a way to make it happen. Rules be damned.” He points out. Kacia smirks. 

“I can’t help it if everyone just wants to be like me.” She says innocently. Sarah tilts her head thoughtfully. 

“Your purple hair… I always wondered. That’s natural?” She asks tentatively. 

“Yup.” Kacia says without hesitation. 

“Had it all my life. Apparently my father did too, not that I’ve ever seen him.” She adds. Sarah’s expression softens with curiosity. 

“Well, your hair is gorgeous. If my kid ever asks to match you, you have my full approval. Just don’t ask me to help. I tried dyeing my hair once and ended up with a flat, awful black that made me look like I’d crawled out of a bad horror film.” She shudders, then suddenly brightens. 

“Oh! But that means any kids you have one day would likely have purple hair too. Aww, that would be so adorable!” Sarah practically coos. I am instantly struck with the mental image of adorable little kids with purple hair and eyes, pointed ears and… Greyish skin, tails… Damn it. I need to stop that. I am not sticking around, I will not be fathering children with this woman! No matter how cute they might be! 

Feeling uncomfortable and more than ready for this conversation to be over, I subtly prompt Kacia that it’s time for us to leave. I’m not sure she knows where we’re going, hell, I don’t either, but I put on my ‘we have important business’ face so she’ll end the baby hair colour conversation and head for the door. It works. Sort of. We’re halfway down the driveway before she pauses, frowning as she starts the engine.

“Wait… Where are we going?” She asks, suspicious but not yet calling me out. I flounder for an answer. 

“Uh… The library,” I blurt out. She tilts her head. 

“The library? Is there a particular reason why?” She questions. I shrug, trying to look casual while my brain scrambles for something plausible. I settle on the first halfway reasonable thing that comes to mind. 

“Um, Finneas. I wanted to see if he’s around today, or maybe if Vidar knows how to contact him. I thought… Maybe he’d have more prophecies for us. About your grandfather, maybe. We might get more information if we ask specific questions.” I explain awkwardly. It’s not my strongest pitch, but she accepts it without pressing.

“Sure. Worth a shot.” She says easily, pulling into the street. 

“Not like we have any other plans today.” She decides. Then she glances at me, her mouth curving just enough to be dangerous. 

“Although, I DO feel like I should get some sort of reward for agreeing to your mystery errand without a fight.” She says sweetily. I narrow my eyes. 

“A reward?” I repeat. 

“Mmhmm.” She drums her fingers on the steering wheel, pretending to think it over. 

“Could be a coffee. Could be dinner somewhere nice. Could be… You telling me why you suddenly decided to bolt out of there like your hair was on fire.” She smirks. I snort. 

“You’re ridiculous.” I accuse. 

“And you’re avoiding the question.” She says sweetly.

“I don’t remember a question.” I point out. 

“The one about what my reward is.” She says, batting her lashes at me in a way that’s so over the top she has to know it’s ridiculous. 

“I’m flexible. I accept compliments, quality time, and, if you’re feeling especially generous, cuddles.” She says, winking at me. I shake my head, but I can feel the corner of my mouth wanting to twitch upward. 

“You’re not getting cuddles for agreeing to go to the library.” I say firmly. 

“Not yet.” She corrects, her tone dripping with promise. I groan and lean back in my seat, but she just grins, clearly satisfied she’s rattled me enough to call it a win.