I was starting to like this kid. I could see why Taziroth wanted to make sure she was covered, and why she thought I'd make a decent substitute guardian. The kid had a *creative* sense of justice, though she could use a little more common sense sometimes.

After last week's laxative brownies, the neighborhood bully was chasing Leah with murderous intent. I edited reality just enough to put an old gopher hole where the bigger girl was just about to step, and watched in satisfaction as she wrenched her ankle, and stopped the chase to howl. My charge paused her flight just long enough to taunt the bully and laugh, then she continued to dart away to her own yard.

Leah climbed the fence, then hopped from the top to the platform of her treehouse. She was getting better, this time I didn't have to nudge her aim at all for her to land safely. The cozy little treehouse was mostly full of the tools of her self-appointed trade. Stink bombs, rubber dog doo, smoke bombs, a wide selection of joy buzzers, and so on, all sorted by a complicated metric of price, quality, function, and strength. Little Leah was quite the artisan of chaos.

She filled her pockets with a choice selection, then jumped down from the treehouse, scorning the ladder in her haste to get on with her self-appointed mission. I nudged an inconvenient rock aside, so she didn't bobble the landing too badly. I was pretty sure she was heading towards the convenience store that usually tried to short-change kids who came in buying snacks, and I heartily approved.

I'm pretty sure a proper guardian angel was supposed to lead their charge towards the path of righteousness, not mischief. But if that's what Taz wanted, why in the h**ven did she pick *me* for the job? No, I think she knew exactly what she was doing. After all, this kind of rough justice was exactly the proper province of Hell. I grinned, and followed after my racing charge.