I chewed on my lip and looked up at him. “But . . . Michael, she wasn’t . . . for the past year . . .”

He sighed and shook his head. “Harry . . . do you know what that island is like, for the rest of us?”

I shook my head.

“The last time I was there, I was shot twice,” he said. “I was in intensive care for a month. I was in bed for four months. I didn’t walk again for nearly a year. There was permanent damage to my hip and lower back, and physically, it was the single most extended, horribly painful, grindingly humiliating experience of my life.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“And,” he said, “when I have nightmares of it, you know what I dream about?”

“What?”

“The island,” Michael said. “The . . . presence of it. The malevolence there.” He shuddered.

Michael, Knight of the Cross, who had faced deadly spirits and demons and monsters without flinching, shivered in fear.

“That place is horrible,” he said quietly. “The effect it has . . . It’s obvious that it doesn’t even touch you. But I don’t know if I could go back there again, by choice.”

I blinked.

“But I know Molly went back there. And you tell me Karrin did, too. And Thomas. Many times.” He shook his head. “That’s . . . astounding to me, Harry.”

“They . . . they never said anything,” I said. “I mean, they never spent the night, either, but . . .”

“Of course they didn’t,” he said. “You already beat yourself up for enough things that aren’t your fault. People who care don’t want to add to that.” He paused, and then added gently, “But you assumed it was about you.”

I finished the beer and sighed. “Arrogance,” I said. “I feel stupid.”

“Good,” Michael said. “It’s good for everyone to feel that way sometimes. It helps remind you how much you still have to learn.”

What he said about the island tracked. I remembered my first moments there, how unsettling it was. I had talent and training in defending myself against psychic assault, and I’d shielded against it on pure reflex, shedding the worst that it could have done to me. Wizard. And not long after that, I’d taken on Demonreach in a ritual challenge that had left me the Warden of the place, and exempt from its malice.

Thomas hadn’t had the kind of training, the kind of defenses I did. Molly, who was more sensitive than me to that kind of energy, must have found it agonizing. And Karrin, who had been assaulted psychically before . . . damn.

They’d all picked up more scars for me, on my behalf, without a word of complaint—and I’d been upset because they hadn’t been willing to take more.

Michael was right.

I’d gotten completely focused on myself.

“It occurs to me,” I said, “if I wasn’t being the Winter Knight . . . Mab would have picked another thug.” Mab had even told me who she would have gone after—my brother, Thomas. I shuddered to think what might have happened, if the temptations of Winter had been added to those he already bore. “Someone else would be bearing this burden. Maybe someone it would have destroyed by now.”

“It occurred to you just now?” Michael asked. “I thought of it about five seconds after I heard about it.”

I laughed and it felt really good to do it.

“There,” Michael said, nodding.

“Thank you.”

I meant it for a lot of things. Michael got it. He inclined his head to me. “There is, of course, an elephant in the room, of which we have not spoken.”

Of course there was.

Maggie.

“I don’t want to make her into a target again,” I said.

Michael sighed patiently. “Harry,” he said, as if speaking to a rather slow child, “I’m not sure if you noticed this. But things did not turn out well for the last monster who raised his hand against your child. Or any of his friends. Or associates. Or anyone who worked for him. Or for most of the people he knew.”

I blinked.

“Whether or not that was your intention,” Michael said, “you did establish a rather effective precedental message to the various predators, should they ever learn of her relationship to you.”

“Do you think Nicodemus would hesitate?” I asked. “Even for a second?”

“To take her from this house?” Michael asked. He smiled. “I’d love to see him try it.”

I lifted my eyebrows.

“A dozen angels protect this house, still,” Michael said. “Part of my retirement package.”

“She’s not always in the house,” I said.

“And when she isn’t, Mouse is with her,” he said. “We got him attached to her as a medical assist dog. He prevents her from having panic attacks.”

I made a choking sound, imagining Mouse in a grade school. “By making everyone else around her panic instead?”

“He’s a perfect gentleman,” Michael said, amused. “The children love him. The teachers let the best students play with him on recess.”

I imagined my enormous moose of a dog on a playground, trotting around after Maggie and other kids, with that dopey doggy grin on his face, cheerfully going along with whatever the kids seemed to have planned, moving with tremendous care around them, and shamelessly cadging tummy rubs whenever possible.

“That’s kind of awesome,” I said.