Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 99

**KACIA**

I wake up feeling… Wrong. Not sore, not cold, not tangled in blankets, just wrong. That bone deep prickling that makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise, that electric certainty that you’re being watched. I check myself mentally. Feet, warm, tucked under the covers. Back, not twisted funny. Ribs, sore, but tolerable. Arms, a little numb from being pinned beneath me, but nothing unusual. So why does my skin feel like it’s crawling? I roll onto my side, force my eyes open, and- There’s a woman leaning over my bed. I don’t think. I scream. The kind of scream that rips free before my brain catches up, raw and instinctive. I kick and shove myself backward, scrambling, desperate to put space between us. The sound of thunderous footsteps pounds down the hallway. Oz. My door slams open so violently it rattles against the wall.

“KACIA!” His voice is a roar, sharp, panicked and edged with something dangerous. For the briefest fraction of a second he takes in the scene, me pressed back against my headboard, the stranger looming above, too still, too calm. Then he moves. Fast doesn’t even cover it. One moment he’s at the door, the next he’s at my side, a dark blur and a rush of air. His hand hooks around my arm, the other seizes my waist, and before I can even gasp he yanks me clean off the mattress like I weigh nothing at all. My legs knock against the bedframe as he hauls me firmly against his chest, crushingly tight, as though he could fold me into his ribcage and keep me safe there. My ribs flare in sharp protest, but I don’t complain. I can feel the thrum of his heartbeat against my back, the low growl rumbling in his chest, the tension coiled in every muscle as he backs us away, step by step, never turning his body from hers. He holds me so firmly it’s almost suffocating, arms locked around me like iron bands, tail lashing behind him in agitation. I’m hidden in his shadow, tucked beneath his chin, and for a dizzying moment it doesn’t matter that I can barely breathe, because I know, without a single doubt, that nothing will get through him to reach me. The woman doesn’t move. She doesn’t flinch. She just watches.

It’s too dark to see her face. And then, as if she can read my very thoughts, she tilts her head, makes a soft little ‘tsk,’ and reaches lazily for the switch on my bedside lamp. The bulb sparks, flickers once, and dies.

“Oops. Damn technology.” She murmurs, amused, like this is nothing more than a game. Then, with a casual flick of her wrist, her hand bursts into flame. Fire curls and dances across her palm, throwing wild shadows across the walls. In the sudden glow, I finally see her. Perfect pale skin. Sharp cheekbones. Golden eyes that gleam like glass. Not human. Not even close. She’s fae. 

Her hair is the first thing I notice in the flickering firelight. Not blonde, it’s too saturated, too vivid. It’s the color of molten gold caught mid-pour, gleaming with an unnatural sheen that screams otherworldly and falls in cascading waves all the way down her back. She’s dressed like she’s just stepped out of some dramatic black tie gala, not a suburban bedroom in the middle of the night. Black silk, cut sharp and precise, with a collar that gleams faintly like polished obsidian. Every inch of her radiates elegance, power and danger. Meanwhile, Oz hasn’t loosened his grip on me for even a second. His arms are locked around me like a steel cage, claws already unsheathed, his glamour cracking at the edges. The faint shimmer of grey ash creeps across his skin, and his voice rumbles low and deadly.

“I won’t let you hurt her.” He says darkly. It’s not just words, it’s a vow. His tail lashes, his body coiled to spring. The fae woman rolls her eyes. Rolls her eyes, like Oz in full demon threat mode is some irritating child making noise.

“I do not currently have any intent to harm Kacia Alhwin.” She says, her tone feather light, almost bored. 

“And you are being very dramatic, considering that according to the message from your little brownie friend, YOU are the ones who wanted to speak to ME.” She adds. The casual way she says it, as though my life is a minor inconvenience, sets my teeth on edge. But it’s Oz who stiffens against me, suspicion darkening his expression.

“Angelo sent you?” He demands. His voice is edged like broken glass. She snorts, derisive. 

“I don’t take orders from brownies. But he DID manage to get a message to me. And when I heard that Kacia Alhwin wanted to speak to a fae… Well.” She trails off, her lips curve into a smirk, her eyes glinting. 

“I couldn’t resist.” She says, making eye contact with me. I frown. 

“Alhwin. You’ve called me that twice now.” I point out. Oz’s grip on me tightens, his chest vibrating with a low warning growl, but I push on. She said she has no intent to hurt me currently, and fae can’t lie. I might as well take advantage of the moment.

“Well, it is by all rights your name.” The woman says dryly, as if explaining something to a particularly dense child.

“Even if you have not yet laid claim to it.” She adds. 

“My father’s last name was Alhwin?” I ask. She arches one perfect brow. 

“Obviously.” She answers as if I am dense. 

“Right. So my grandfather’s name is…” I trail off. 

“Ahriman Alhwin, of course.” She answers primly. The name hangs in the air like smoke, heavy and sour.

“And your name is?” I press. She makes a show of sighing, then dips into a theatrical little flourish, the firelight glinting off her rings. 

“Ah, she finally remembers her manners. About time. I am Raylah Dian.” She announces dramatically. 

“Raylah…” I echo. 

“Is it alright if we ask you a few questions?” I add, trying to be polite. She shrugs, strolling casually around my bedroom like it belongs to her. With her firelit hand she trails over my dresser, picking up trinkets one by one, a hairbrush, a bottle of cheap perfume, and examining them with exaggerated curiosity.

“I suppose you may ask, I will decide if I wish to answer.” She says. Great. That’s… Something.

“Can you tell me about my grandfather?” I ask.

“Yes.” She says. I wait. And wait. And… Nothing.

“WILL you tell me about him?” I grit out. Her dramatic eye roll is almost audible. 

“I might. What do you wish to know? I would be here for an extraordinarily long time if I were to recount every story, rumor, and fact I know of him. I doubt you care to learn what kind of wine pleases him most or whether he prefers his tea before noon or after.” She adds. My patience frays to threads. If this is how all fae talk, I would’ve lost my mind being raised among them.

“Fine. I want to know if he’s trying to kill me because of a prophecy that I’ll ruin him. I want to know if there’s any way to convince him to stop. And if not, what I can do to protect myself.” I say bluntly. Oz tenses at my words, his claws flexing tighter at my waist, but the warmth of his chest pressed to my back lends me courage I wouldn’t otherwise have.

“Yes. No…” Raylah tilts her head, watching her reflection in my mirror as she adjusts a strand of golden hair. 

“And as for protection, there are many options. But the most definite way to guarantee your safety would be to kill him. As soon as possible.” She says it pleasantly, as though suggesting I try a new restaurant. I let out a heavy, sarcastic sigh. 

“Great. Thanks. So useful.” I respond. 

“If you want better answers, ask better questions.” She sasses back. Grinding my teeth, I push on. 

“What kind of powers does he have? Weaknesses? Anything useful.” I request. Oz, voice sharp and low, cuts in. 

“And how could we get to him, if someone theoretically decided to kill him?” He questions. Raylah smiles at her reflection, lips curved like a knife’s edge.

“Many powers. He is one of the Twelve Fae Lords. There are very few forms of magic he cannot access. As for weaknesses? He is vain. Overconfident. And while he surrounds himself with many, he has few true allies. Given the right motivation, those he binds to his side would turn on him.” She says with a smirk. 

“Thus why he needs to bind and threaten people into serving him.” Oz mutters darkly.

“And how do we get to him?” He presses again. Raylah turns, her golden eyes gleaming bright in the firelight.

“You want to know how to reach faerie?” She smiles, slow and deliberate. 

“Well, that’s easy. Like this.”