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Memory came through the haze next. I started remembering what had happened. The Nightmare. The vampire ball. The kids who had been seduced into being there.
And the fire.
Oh, God. What had I done?
I thought of the fire, towering up in walls of solid flame, reaching out with hungry arms to drag the vampires screaming back into the pyre I had made of the hedges and the trees.
Stars and stones. Those children had been helpless in that. In the fire and the smoke that I'd needed a major sidhe sorceress's assistance to escape. I had never stopped to think about that. I had never even considered the consequences of unleashing my power that way.
I opened my eyes. I lay in my bed in my room. I stumbled out of the bed and into my bathroom. Someone must have fed me soup at some point, because when I started throwing up, there was something left to come out.
Killed them. I killed those kids. My magic, the magic that was the energy of creation and life itself had reached out and burned them to death.
I threw up until my belly ached with the violence of it, wild grief running rampant over me. I struggled, but I couldn't force the images out of my head. Children burning. Justin burning. Magic defines a man. It comes from down deep inside you. You can't accomplish anything with magic that isn't in you, somewhere, to do.
And I had burned those children alive.
My power. My choice. My fault.
I sobbed.
I didn't come to myself until Michael came into the bathroom. By the time he did, I lay on my side, curled up tight, the water of the shower pouring down over me, the cold making me shiver. Everything hurt, inside and out. My face ached, from being twisted up so tightly. My throat had closed almost completely as I wept.
Michael picked me up as though I weighed no more than one of his children. He dried me with a towel and shoved me into my heavy robe. He had on clean clothes, a bandage on his wrist and another on his forehead. His eyes looked a little more sunken, as though short on sleep. But his hands were steady, his expression calm, confident.
I gathered myself again, very slowly. By the time he was finished, I lifted my eyes to his.
"How many?" I asked. "How many of them died?"
He understood. I saw the pain in his eyes. "After I got the pair of you out, I called the fire department and let them know that people needed a rescue. They got there pretty quickly, but - "
"How many, Michael?"
He drew in a slow breath. "Eleven bodies."
"Susan?" My voice shook.
He hesitated. "We don't know. Eleven was all they found. They're checking dental records. They said the heat was so intense that the bones hardly look human."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Hardly human. There were more kids than that there - "
"I know. But that's all they found. And they rescued a dozen more, alive."
"It's something, at least. What about the ones unaccounted for?"
"They were gone. Missing. They're ... they're presumed dead."
I closed my eyes. Fire had to burn hot to reduce bones to ash. Had my spell been that powerful? Had it hidden most of the dead?
"I can't believe it," I said. "I can't believe I was so stupid."
"Harry," Michael said. He put his hand on my shoulder. "We've no way to know. We just don't. They could have been dead before the fires came. The vampires were feeding from them indiscriminately, where we couldn't see."
"I know," I said. "I know. God, I was so arrogant. Such an idiot to go walking in there like that."
"Harry - "
"And those poor, stupid kids paid the price. Dammit, Michael."
"A lot of the vampires didn't make it out, either, Harry."
"It isn't worth it. Not if it wiped out all the vamps in Chicago."
Michael fell quiet. We sat that way for a long time.
Finally, I asked him, "How long have I been out?"
"More than a day. You slept through last night and yesterday and most of tonight. The sun will rise soon."
"God," I said. I rubbed at my face.
I could hear Michael's frown. "I thought we'd lost you for a while. You wouldn't wake up. I was afraid to take you to the hospital. Any place where there'd be a record of you. The vampires could trace it."
"We need to call Murphy and tell her - "
"Murphy's still sleeping, Harry. I called Sergeant Stallings, last night, when I called the fire department. S.I. tried to take over the investigation, but someone up the line called the police department off of it altogether. Bianca has contacts in City Hall, I guess."
"They can't stop the missing persons investigations that are going to start cropping up as soon as people start missing those kids. But they can stick a bunch of things in the way of it. Crap."
"I know," Michael said. "I tried to find Susan, the girl Justine, and the sword, after. Nothing."
"We almost pulled it off. Sword and captives and all."
"I know."
I shook my head. "How's Charity? The baby?"
He looked down. "The baby - they still don't know about him. They can't find out what's wrong. They don't have any idea why he is getting weaker."
"I'm sorry. Is Charity - ?"
"She's stuck in bed for a while, but she'll be fine. I called her yesterday."
"Called. You didn't go see her?"
"I guarded you," Michael said. "Father Forthill was with my family. And there are others who can watch them, when I'm away."
I winced. "She didn't like that, did she. That you stayed with me."
"She's not speaking to me."
"I'm sorry."
He nodded. "So am I."
"Help me up. I'm thirsty."
He did, and I only swayed a little as I stood. I tottered out into the living area of my apartment. "What about Lydia?" I asked.
Michael remained silent, and my eyes answered my own question a few seconds later. Lydia lay on the couch in my living room, under a ton and a half of blankets, curled up, her eyes closed and her mouth a little open.
"I recognize her," Michael said.
I frowned. "From where?"
"Kravos's lair. She was one of the kids they hauled away, early on."
I whistled. "She must have known him. Known what he was going to do, somehow."
"Try not to wake her up," Michael said, his voice soft. "She wouldn't sleep. I think they'd drugged her. She was panicky, gabbling. I just got her quieted down half an hour ago."
I frowned a little and went into the tiny kitchen. Michael followed. I got a Coke out of the icebox, thought better of it with my stomach the way it was, and fetched a glass of water instead. I drank unsteadily. "I've got hell to pay now, Michael."
