Demon Bound

hung over a knotted rag rug. Dust bunnies and a ratty stuffed bear lurked in the darkness beyond.
    A bed. Oh, shit.
    He listened, and rolled over onto his side, came up on his elbow. The racing heartbeat and the quick, shallow breaths had the same effect as an ice bath. A psychic probe told him it was a kid. Awake, and scared as hell. Shit shit shit. He could try to leave . . . but freaking a kid out and then taking off didn’t feel right . An adult might talk themselves out of whatever frightened them; a kid, not so much.
    The bed squeaked. Jesus, who should he look like? What did kids watch on television nowadays? He had no flippin’ clue.
    Too late, anyway. A pair of wide blue eyes peeked over the edge of the mattress. Maybe four or five years old. Her long brown hair was in two braids, and they dangled toward him.
    Kansas again. But this time, he hadn’t brought the Wicked Witch.
    “Hey, Rapunzel,” Jake whispered. Soft and easy, so she wouldn’t take off screaming for the two other women in the house, whose minds were heavy with sleep. “Did you lose your teddy bear?”
    Her braids swayed as she shook her head.
    “But there’s one right here under the bed. Want to see it?” He vanished the bear into his hammerspace, then made it appear in his left hand.
    The girl blinked.
    “Just a little magic,” he said, and turned the bear’s face up. One of the eyes was missing, and stuffing puffed out of the hole. “Ouch. Something under there got him, huh?”
    Her eyes went impossibly wider. “Monsters?”
    Ah, damn. Real slick, dickhead. “Nope,” he said quickly. “I used my magic, made them all go away. Teddy here helped; check out his sword.” Jake called in a dagger, held the handle against Teddy’s arm, waved it around. The giggle told him he’d done something right. “Yeah. We’ll just get rid of this, though. He’ll make it appear again if he needs to protect you with it. But I’m pretty sure they’re gone for good.”
    He vanished the knife, lifted the bear. Her fingers brushed his when she took it, and something clamped tight in his chest. “So, Rapunzel—do you have a name?”
    She nodded but didn’t answer, and used her pinkie to poke the stuffing back into the bear’s head.
    “Ah,” he said. Now he just needed some candy, and he’d be a pervy asshole. “That’s right. You can’t tell me, because I’m a stranger.”
    The look she gave him told Jake he’d just said something stupid. “I know who you are, silly.”
    The clamp grew tighter. Facing a demon would be easier than this. Facing Alice right now would have been easier than this. “Is that right?”
    “Your picture’s always on the fireplace. Even when it’s Christmas, and I want Princess Mandy to sit there and watch me open presents.”
    Judging by her cross expression, that was an offense of the highest order. “Sorry.”
    She shrugged. “Grandma said you’d know my name. That you’re in Heaven, and you watch us, and you know me.”
    His heart squeezed into pulp. “What are you thinking, I don’t know you? Close your eyes for one second.” She did, and he’d searched through the room and was back before she opened them again. Some things never changed—names written on Sunday school papers, in permanent marker on winter boots and coats. “You’re my granddaughter, Lindsey Hawkins.”
    She shook her head. “ Great granddaughter.”
    “That’s what I meant— great granddaughter.” And he was a great grandfather. Jesus. He didn’t want to do the math, calculate probable ages, because that meant they’d only been kids, too. Two generations, just out of high school. He sat up. “Now, are you going to tell me why you’re awake so late?”
    Hugging the bear to her chest, she said, “Just got scared.”
    “Of what?” When she only looked at him, he guessed nightmare. “Okay. You want me to hang around here until you go back to sleep?”
    “Yes,” she said, and smiled. “I like your chair. Is it from Heaven, too?”
    He glanced over at the armchair. Gold silk; a tall, bowed backrest; intricately carved gildwood; fluted, scrolled legs. Not fit for an angel, he thought, but a goddess. “France, I think.”
    “Grandma has one like it. Not the same though. Hers is puffier. Are you going to see her?”
    His chest, his throat were aching—but his gut was all right. He reached out with his mind again, focused on the elder of the two sleeping women. If she was dreaming, they were good dreams. He