“I had to,” I said.

Butter’s jawline hardened. “Try to see this from my perspective, Harry,” he said. “Ever since Chichén Itzá, you haven’t been you. Do you even get that?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You made a deal. With Mab,” he said simply. “You apparently died. Your ghost showed up claiming you had died, and got us all to do things. Then you show up alive again, only you’ve got freaky Winter faerie powers. You were here for a day before Molly was gone, with freaky Winter faerie powers of her own. And you’ve been back for a year, living out on that island where hardly anyone can get to you, not talking, not helping, not here.” He looked at me for the first time. “Not you. Not the you we all know. The guy who came to gaming every week. Who we went to drive-in movies with.”

I stuffed my hands in my pockets.

“I know that things happen to people,” he said. “And maybe you’ve got excellent and real reasons for doing what you’ve done. But . . . at the end of the day, there’s just no replacement for being here. We’re losing people. Kids. Old folks. Hell, there was this thing killing people’s pets for a while.” He turned back to his washing. “It’s enough to make a guy a little bit cynical. And now you show up again, only you’re not talking about what you’re doing. People are worried that you’re going to go bad like the other Winter Knights have.” He spun back to me, his dark eyes hard and pained. “And when you sit up from being sewn up, what’s the first thing you do? Hey, Butters? How you doing, Butters? Sorry about beating up your girlfriend? Didn’t mean to wreck your computer room, man? No. The first thing you start talking about is paying off a debt. Just like one of the Fae.”

Which made a cold chill go through my stomach. Butters might not have all the facts, he might not have the full story, but . . .

He wasn’t wrong.

He started slapping his stuff back into his bag, though his voice stayed gentle. “I’m afraid, man. I know what’s going on out there now, and it’s scary as hell. So you tell me, Harry. Should I be anxious about Superman hanging out with Luthor? When I find out more about what you’re dragging Karrin into, is it going to make me less worried? Because I’m not sure I know you anymore.”

It was maybe fifteen seconds before I could answer.

“It isn’t going to make you any less worried,” I said quietly. “And I still can’t talk to you about it.”

“Honesty,” he said. He nodded a couple of times. “Well. At least we’ve got that much. There’s orange juice in the fridge. Drink some. Get a lot of fluids in the next few days.”

Then Butters took his bag and walked out of thekitchen.

He looked at least as tired as I felt. And I could see how afraid he was, and how the fear had worn him down. He had doubts. Which, in this world, was only smart. He had doubts about me. That hurt. But they were understandable. Maybe even smart. And he’d been up-front with me about it all. That had taken courage. If I truly had been turning into the monster he feared, by being honest with me about it, he would’ve just painted a huge target on his face. He’d done it anyway—which meant that he wasn’t sure, and he was willing to risk it.

And most important, when I’d needed his help, he’d shown up and given it.

Butters was good people.

And he wasn’t wrong.

I heard quiet talking going on in the living room, between Butters and Karrin and another female voice—Andi, presumably. A moment later, the door opened and closed again. The quiet of an emptier house settled over the place.

Karrin appeared in the doorway.

“You heard that, huh?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “I did.” She crossed to the refrigerator, opened it, and took out a jug of orange juice. She got a plastic drinking glass out of the cupboard and poured it full. Then she passed the juice to me.

I grimaced and drank some, then stared down at the rest. “You agree with him?”

“I understand him,” she said.

“But do you agree?”

“I trust you,” she said.

Three words. Big ones. Especially coming from her. For a moment, they filled the room, and I felt something tight in my chest ease out of me.

I looked up at her and smiled with one side of my mouth. She answered it.

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” I said.

The smile deepened around her eyes. “Maybe I’m a big girl who can make up her own mind.”

“Maybe you are,” I allowed.

“It’s been a hard year,” she said. “They’re tired, and scared. People lose faith sometimes. They’ll come around. You’ll see.”

“Thanks,” I said quietly.

She put her hand on my arm and squeezed, then let go of me. “I set Valmont up in the guest bedroom,” she said. “You’re in my room. I’m on the couch.”

“I’ll take the couch,” I said.

“You don’t fit on it, bonehead. You’re the one who got shot, remember? And I need you in the best shape possible if we’re going to do this.”

I swirled the orange juice in the glass. She had a point.

Mister appeared in the doorway, then flung himself at my shins. I pulled the injured one back so that his shoulder hit my left shin alone. I leaned down to rub his notched ear. “Where have you been, fuzzball?”