Maggie was a little thing, probably no more than fifty pounds soaking wet. She was thin, despite Mom's constant barrage of good food and nutritious snacks. The brown wool sweater that Amanda had knitted for her was too big and hung almost to her knees, swallowing the already small girl in its cavernous neckline. Her hair waved slightly, just like Harry's. She'd inherited his chin too, which gave her otherwise soft face a sense of strength. Her nose was thin, her eyes dark and almost too large for her face. She had darker, healthier skin than Harry could have ever dreamed of.

She was a beautiful little girl, and I didn't think it was just my bias talking. I'd only ever seen Susan Rodriguez in passing when members of the Fellowship met up briefly to exchange weapons or valuable intel. The Reverists had been the go-to for a while, thanks in no small part to Lasciel and I. Susan had been a stunning woman, unable to completely hide that beauty with nondescript clothes and makeup to appear older. Maggie looked a lot like her. She'd turn heads by the time she hit high school.

She barely touched the food on her plate, opting to bury her little hands in Mouse's ruff instead. The giant mountain of fur and intense canine energy leaned into her, allowing her to shelter half-behind him, seeming to sense when her anxiety spiked. Some of that was because of me. I was a stranger and she sensed on some instinctual level that I was dangerous, even if her conscious mind couldn't quite put words to the feeling. It could be the first sign of sensitivity in an exceptionally powerful and precocious practitioner, but more likely it was good judgment. Children are always smarter than people give them credit for.

Maggie eventually complained of a stomachache and asked to be excused. Mom frowned at her, clearly unhappy, and asked her to take a few more bites before leaving the table. She complied, taking painfully small spoonfuls of her mashed potatoes before placing her plate on the counter to be eaten by someone else. She shuffled out of the room trailed closely by Mouse. I gave Mom a slight nod before picking up a small container, and a spoon, and following the little girl out of the room.

Maggie was already scaling the stairs by the time I caught up. Her gaze flicked fearfully to me and she cringed into the banister. Mouse put his massive frame between Maggie and I, all but eclipsing her thin frame. Only her eyes and the top of her head poked out from behind her self-appointed guardian. Mouse's tail was still wagging and his eyes were warm when he regarded me. The show was mostly for Maggie's benefit, not mine. Mouse had stopped growling at me a few years ago, once I'd gotten my head in some semblance of order and stopped obsessing about Lasciel's coin.

"Hi," I said, pitching my voice low, keeping the tone soft. She was liable to bolt if I spoke in anything louder than a whisper. "My name is Molly."

Maggie regarded me with sober eyes before nodding to herself, coming to some sort of conclusion about me.

"I'm Maggie," she said, mimicking my gentle tone. Her hands curled in Mouse's fur. His tail beat a little harder, thwacking against the railing. "And this is my dog, Mouse. He's a good dog."

"I know he is. We've met before, haven't we Mouse?"

I smiled and took a step closer, holding out a hand for him to sniff. Mouse's wet nose snuffled along my palm, then he let out a satisfied sound that was half sneeze and half snort, speckling my palm with either drool or snot. I laughed, pulling a face before rubbing my hand on my jeans. Maggie's lips twitched like she was contemplating a smile, though it never fully materialized. Mouse's easy acceptance seemed to warm her to me.

"Mrs. Carpenter says Mouse is as old as me but Hobbit says he's older. In dog years he's fifty-six, which is way older than me."

I smirked at Mouse. "Pretty spry for an old guy, aren't you?"

Mouse sneezed again, managing to insert a palpable sense of disapproval into the sound. It made me grin harder, and Maggie actually let out a small, nervous giggle. I sank down onto the stair beneath hers and after a moment she did the same. Mouse sat across from the little girl, giving me a clear line of sight. If he'd plopped down beside her, she'd have disappeared from view entirely. She still looked nervous, but her posture was more open than it had been a minute before.

"Mouse likes you."

"Yeah, I guess he does." I hesitated for a moment before holding out the small plastic container. Mom had found an old Cool Whip container to store the treat."I know we haven't met before today, but I've heard a lot about you. I'm heading out, but wanted to give you something before I go."

Maggie eyed the container for a moment before extending a hand, snatching it from my grip. She peeled back the lid after a moment and let out a small, pleased sound. The scent of dulce de leche wafted out, and nostalgia accompanied it. I'd had the delicious stuff countless times during my time with the Fellowship. It was smoother and tastier than caramel and could be put on damn near anything. Bread, churros, cake, or just eaten straight. Hannah and I had done that more than once, sitting side by side with me inside a chalk circle so we could watch movies together. She would lean against my shoulder, sometimes falling asleep on me. Her breath would tickle my throat, warm and reassuring.

Which was sort of romantic, looking back on it. So maybe the emotion hadn't been totally manufactured by Lasciel. Hannah had been sweet on me, just good at hiding it, probably because I'd been a teenager at the time. If we'd had more time, it could have become something more without the mental tampering.

"You made this?"

"With Mom's supervision, yeah. I'm not to be trusted around anything culinary without someone watching me. Last time I managed to burn water. I have no clue how."

Maggie giggled again, and genuine happiness settled over me, banishing the leftover ache of Nelson's grief. It made my chest warm, and I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. I gestured down at the container.

"I'm not sure if I'll be back for Christmas, but I'll leave a list of recipes for Mom to make for you. I lived in Mexico and Central America for years while I worked with the Fellowship, so I know all the good stuff. I figure you probably had this once in a while. It's always nice to have things that remind us of home."

Equal parts sadness and gratitude washed over her. She blinked back the urge to cry and moved closer to Mouse, setting the container aside so she could wrap her arms around his neck, hugging him to her chest like an economy-sized teddy bear.

"I miss them," she whispered.

I wasn't sure if she meant Susan, her foster family, Harry, or all of the above. She'd lost her entire world when the Red Court snatched her. Everything was new and different, and even adults had difficulty adjusting to that combination. And that was in relation to normal things like moving or starting a new job. Add vampires, a bloody battle, and the deaths of everyone she'd ever cared about, and it was a new level of fucked up. No wonder she hid behind Mouse and barely touched her food. I hadn't had a real appetite for weeks after I'd lost Anna and the Reverists.

"I know. I lost my friends to the monsters too. It's hard, but trust me, your safe here. Mom, Dad, and Mouse will fight to make sure nothing bad ever touches you again. I'll be here too. I'm a knight you know. I've got a sword and everything."

Maggie's eyes shone with curiosity. "Really?"

"Yeah. A sword and magic wands, and a doll that makes me look different. If a monster tries to hurt you, I'll turn it into a frog."

Which was something I could accomplish in theory, though I had no idea how to put it into practice. It was a violation of the Second Law of Magic, but I'd so thoroughly smashed the first, third, and fourth that one more wouldn't make much difference. I'd be a dead woman either way. The claim had done what I'd hoped for. It had calmed Maggie down.

"You're a witch? You can do magic and stuff?"

"Wizard," I said. "It sounds like a boy thing, but it's used as a gender-neutral title in magical circles. It's like lawyer or author that way."

"Or a carpenter?" she asked.

I nodded. "Yeah, like a carpenter. Though I'm not as cool as Dad, trust me."

Maggie looked thoughtful and snuggled even closer to Mouse before asking, "Did you know my Daddy? Mr. Dresden? I only saw him once. Hobbit says he's gone."

A dozen conflicting feelings flitted through me, fighting for dominance. The childish crush I'd had on him as a preteen. The fear of what he could do when we'd faced each other as enemies. Gratitude for saving my dad and going to bat for me with the Council. A sense of comradery when he visited Summer to give me updates about my family and life in Chicago. But eclipsing it all was grief and anger. Harry had dragged my brother into danger, let him perform black magic, and effectively stripped him of his sanity when he kicked off the bloodline curse. Harry bore some of the responsibility of what I'd been forced to do next.

But Maggie didn't need to know that. There was no way she could understand the complexity of my relationship with Harry. Her world was still relatively black and white, not the gray murk I called home.

I offered her my hand, palm up. "I knew him. I can show him to you if you like."

Maggie slid her warm little hand into mine after a moment. And then I fed her every benign or inspiring memory I had of Harry. I recalled the exact timbre of his voice, the warmth of his smile, the twinkle of his dark eyes when he was up to something that was sure to ruin a bad guy's day. I let her feel the good stuff. Friendship, his deep commitment to his friends and his city. Some of the incredible things he'd pulled off with magic.

When I pulled my hand away, her eyes were wet, but not sorrowful. She felt...awed. I let her bask in it for a little while before standing. I jerked a thumb at the kitchen, and her eyes finally snapped into focus.

"I'm going to see if Mom has some ice cream you can put that on, okay?"

"Okay."

I made it a few steps before her little voice rang out, sounding loud in the quiet of the room. "Thank you, Ms. Molly."

I resisted the urge to ruffle her hair. Kids her age hated that. "You're welcome."

She bit her lip and shifted on the stairs before blurting, "Can I see your sword and magic wands before you go?"

My mouth curled into a smile. "Sure, kid."