“Oh,” Murphy said, staring, her eyes welling up.

Will let out a low whistle.

Father Forthill crossed himself, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

Mort looked at the cat and sighed. “Oh, sure. Professional ectomancer with a national reputation as a medium tells you what’s going on, and nobody believes him. But let a stump-tailed, furry critter come in and everyone goes all Lifetime.”

“Heh,” said Sir Stuart, quietly amused. “What did I tell you? Cats.”

Murphy turned to me, lifting her face toward mine. Her eyes were a little off, focused to one side of my face. I moved until I stood where she was looking, her blue eyes intent. “Harry?”

“I’m here,” I said.

“God, I feel stupid,” Murphy muttered, looking at Mort. “He can hear me, right?”

“And see you,” Mort said.

She nodded and looked up again—at a slightly different place. I moved again.

I know. It wouldn’t matter to her.

But it mattered to me.

“Harry,” she said. “A lot of things have happened since… since the last time we talked. The big spell at Chichén Itzá didn’t just destroy the Red Court who were there. It killed them all. Every Red Court vampire in the world.”

“Yeah,” I said, and my voice sounded hard, even to me. “That was the idea.”

Murphy blew out a breath. “Butters says that maybe there were some it missed, but they would have had to have been the very youngest and least powerful members of the least powerful bloodlines, or else sheltered away in some kind of protected location. But he says according to what he knows of magical theory, it makes sense.”

I shrugged and nodded. “Yeah, I guess so. A lot depends on exactly how that rite was set up to work.” But the Red Court was dead, the same way the Black Court was dead. Life would go on. They were footnotes now.

“When the Red Court fell,” Murphy continued, “their territory was suddenly open. There was a power vacuum. Do you understand?”

Oh, God.

The Red Court had tried to murder my little girl and all that was left of my family, and I wouldn’t lose any sleep over what had happened to them. (Assuming I would ever sleep again, which seemed to be a real question.) But I hadn’t thought past that single moment, thought through the long-term consequences of wiping out the entire Red Court.

They were one of the major supernatural nations in the world. They controlled a continent and change—South and most of Central America—and had holdings all over the world. They owned property. Stocks. Corporations. Accounts. They as much as owned some governments. Assets of every kind.

The value of what the Red Court had controlled was almost literally incalculable.

And I had thrown it all up in the air and declared one giant game of finders, keepers.

“Oops,” I said.

“Things… are bad,” Murphy said. “Not so much here in Chicago. We’ve repulsed the worst incursions—mostly from some gang of arrogant freaks called the Fomor. And the Paranet has been a huge help. It’s saved literally hundreds, if not thousands, of lives.”