Harold tried to remember the syntax of a two-year old from the book he'd red last year. At two years old your child will be able to structure simple verb-noun sentences. He was fairly certain they didn't include modifiers like 'properly'.
He stepped back until the corner of the house blocked them from view of the fight. He know this wasn't the right time but he really had to consider the effect of a child harbouring demons. Thinking about Lucy being a close relative of Legion hypothetically had been one thing – seeing her taking the demons into herself was quite another.
A shriek of pain from Gillian galvanised him to action. “Honey? We'll talk about this later but for now I just need you to touch the silver man and send the spirit away, all right?”
“Yes Daddy. I'll try. But he's so fast and angry.”
Harold took a deep breath. “Then we'll have to slow him down, first.” He wracked his brains for an appropriate spell. Like the burning spell, there was very little he could do to a golem. It had no joints to freeze, no electronics to fry, no brain to melt. How did you stop the unstoppable?
He risked another peek around the corner. Gillian was nursing her side with her good arm. It looked like she had a broken rib or three. She wouldn't last must longer. If he couldn't affect the golem, could he affect its surroundings?
A suitable spell came to mind. “Humus ut limus.”