Free Demon Bound by Meljean Brook Page B

patch of dead grass cut out of a larger field. Judging by the smell, chickens scratched out here during the days.
    There was something familiar about the lay of the fields, the neighboring houses, but he supposed there were thousands just like it in the Midwest.
    “Oh, dear,” the Black Widow said.
    He followed the direction of her gaze to a window on the second floor of the farmhouse. A dark-haired girl stood in her ruffled nightgown, her eyes wide, her breath fogging a circle in the glass.
    Her arms tightened, bending in half the pink rag doll she clutched. “Princess Mandy, look,” she whispered. Her psychic scent boiled with more excitement than fear. “It’s the Wicked Witch.”
    Jake fell forward onto his hands, laughing so hard he thought his gut would burst.
    Small, running footsteps sounded from upstairs, and the girl yelled for her grandma.
    “Shall we go?”
    They’d be lucky if anything could get him to teleport now, but Jake nodded through his laughter and stood. The spider clung to his left arm, so he wiped away his tears with his right before taking Alice’s hand. She frowned, gestured for him to quiet.
    He tried. Damn, but he tried.
    Alice’s bristle was back. She signed, Shall we fly? Do you know where we are—or how far it is to Seattle?
    He shook his head, turning in a circle as he attempted to narrow their location, pulling her with him.
    Halfway around, he stopped. At the opposite edge of the yard, an old red tractor and a Mustang with pancake tires rusted next to a weathered shed. Recognition stabbed through his chest, killing his amusement.
    “Jake?”
    From inside the house, a woman’s voice joined the little girl’s.
    “We’re in Kansas,” he said, wishing they were anywhere else.
    Instantly, they were.
    He was the damn cowardly lion.
    Jake slumped in his chair and watched the foam on his beer dissolve. Now and then, he felt the concern of the others around the table, but their chatter went over him.
    He’d leapt to Seattle—but he couldn’t get his flippin’ head out of Kansas.
    Of all places, the Hopewell farm. The silo and barn that had been behind the house were gone now, but he couldn’t mistake that tractor. He and Billy Hopewell had tinkered with that thing and ridden it around the Hopewell fields—down the roads, through town—too many times.
    But the car had been Jake’s. Cherry, back in the day, and he’d lost count of how many bales he’d tossed, how much slop he’d waded through to buy it.
    A piece of shit now.
    And the woman he’d heard inside that house . . .
    Goddamn. Nineteen years he’d tried to get out of that town. It just wasn’t fucking right for his Gift to send him back now, when there was nothing he could do for anyone he’d left behind.
    “Jake.” Charlie scooted her chair closer to his and leaned in. When she spoke in a whisper, the rasp in her voice all but disappeared. “You okay?”
    “Yeah.” He sat up straight, scrubbed his hand over his face. He was such a dick. “Just one too many jumps today.”
    She smiled and squeezed his hand before turning back to the table.
    Jake picked up his beer. Drifter was a lucky, lucky man. Charlie was the kind of girl you took home to Mom—if Mom was the kind to appreciate a girl with fangs, cold skin, and a right jab that could knock a Guardian’s tooth loose.
    Strange, then, that it’d been a while since Jake had wondered what she looked like naked.
    Was it just that she’d been away from Seattle these past two months? Just for the hell of it he imagined undressing her, and mentally covered her up again an instant later.
    Jesus. If he’d had a sister, Jake thought that was pretty much what taking a peek at her would have felt like.
    And Selah, sitting on the other side of Charlie, was out, too. God knew she had a body worth stripping—but with her light blond hair and flawless face, she actually looked like an angel.
    She’d also assisted Hugh in mentoring Jake when he’d first come to