Page 146 of Cast in Atonement

Mrs. Erickson’s house looked the same as it had every other time Kaylin had visited it. In the morning light, no hint of Azoria’s house could be seen. The front entryway was the same cozy, dimly lit hall; Kaylin was certain the kitchen, with its single small table, hadn’t changed.

Mrs. Erickson entered her home and looked around, as if memorizing its details.

Evanton once again headed to the family room which Mrs. Erickson had avoided for most of her life. “Wait, Evanton,” she said, as he approached the door. Her lips were curved in a tremulous smile, but there was no hint of anxiety in her expression. “I avoided this room for a very long time, it upset the children so much.

“But now I understand some part of what was done. Azoria is gone. I would like to see the room again before we leave. My parents were happy there, and I was happy with them. They’re gone,” she added, unnecessarily. “When I finally understood that I could see the dead, I prayed and prayed that they would haunt me.

“I prayed that my husband would haunt me. But maybe, given the ghosts that did, it was a mercy to them; they had no lasting regrets, nothing binding them.”

Evanton nodded. He didn’t glance at Bellusdeo for permission. Nor did Mrs. Erickson.

Bellusdeo’s hands tightened into fists as Evanton gestured the door open and Mrs. Erickson walked in. His gaze swept the crowded hall, his glance a warning, although it hit them all, not just the gold Dragon.

He then followed Mrs. Erickson into the family room.

25

“Corporal,” Evanton said. “Please stop huddling behind Lord Bellusdeo and join us.”

She rolled her eyes but slid between the wall of Bellusdeo and the more flexible support of her partner. Evanton hadn’t told Mrs. Erickson the room was dangerous, and Kaylin understood why the old woman wanted to return there. But the room and the painting weren’t like the rest of Mrs. Erickson’s home. Evanton had suggested that this room—specifically Azoria’s painting—was the key to the door that led to Azoria’s hidden manor. It was probably the reason that he wished to return to the room.

Kaylin entered; Hope stood and gently placed his wing across one eye. He’d been droopy for the entire walk from Helen’s to Mrs. Erickson’s.

For the first time since they’d allowed themselves to be laid against her skin, the temporary marks vibrated; the resultant cold made Kaylin’s teeth ache.

Mrs. Erickson didn’t hear them. She was standing beside Evanton. The two stood in front of Azoria’s painting. Kaylin had never seen the painting clearly, so much of it was in shadow of a magical—and inimical—nature. But she could see it now; it was lit from within by the glowing light of the flower bound and braided into the young Imelda’s hair. That color had seemed a sickly, terrible green when she’d first seen it.

It was simply green now—edged in ivory, leaves like petals bending slightly over the girl’s hair, as if to shelter her.

Evanton had never seemed tall to Kaylin, but his presence made Mrs. Erickson seem incredibly tiny in comparison. Or perhaps that was illusion. He hadn’t told her to stay out, and his expression—astonishingly gentle, but laced with sadness—made clear that he considered her desire to see her former home, and the parts of it in which she’d had happy childhood memories, the more important need.

But he must have considered it a risk if he’d ordered Kaylin to join them. Mrs. Erickson’s face couldn’t be seen by anyone but Evanton—and he kept his eyes straight ahead, giving her as much space as he possibly could, while still remaining to protect her.

Kaylin didn’t speak, either. If she could have returned to the home of her childhood, she would have done it at least once. She hadn’t lost what Mrs. Erickson lost—she had no idea who her father was, and her mother had never said; only that he’d died. Kaylin doubted it, but it was a fiction her mother created, and she’d believed it when she was a child.

A child too young to fully understand what death meant: eternal absence.

Neither Mrs. Erickson nor Evanton was that child. It was perhaps the first time since she’d met the Keeper that she wondered what he’d lost, what he’d had to leave behind, to become what he was. He’d seemed so ancient to her when they’d first met. She hadn’t really connected ancient with history, until now.

“Could I take this painting with me?” Mrs. Erickson asked, without taking her eyes off this image of her family.

“I judge it safe if it is to be placed in Helen’s domain—but I am less certain she will consider it harmless,” Evanton replied, his voice both soft and brisk. “But if we finish what we intend, I believe she will accept it; it is what you want, after all.”

Mrs. Erickson nodded and squared her shoulders. “Have you opened the door?”

“No—but the door, when it does open, will open to the manor in which so much atrocity occurred. Come.” He held up an arm. Mrs. Erickson nodded and accepted it.

Bellusdeo was silent, her eyes full copper. She made no attempt to displace Evanton. When she caught Kaylin’s worried glance—which Kaylin had tried her best to hide—she said, “I begin to understand why Teela despises your worry so much.” The Dragon exhaled smoke, but the copper wasn’t displaced by orange or red. “I’ve been incredibly self-absorbed and selfish. I do not deserve your worry.” She watched Mrs. Erickson’s back, and added, in a softer voice, “Or hers. Perhaps especially not hers. Will she be all right?”

“I don’t know. I have every intention of making sure she survives and comes home. Helen would be devastated if we lost her before her time.”

Bellusdeo swallowed and nodded.

The front door did, as Evanton had said it would, open into Azoria’s manor. Kaylin didn’t understand the trigger; she didn’t understand the magic. Magic, or the magic she’d been trained as a Hawk to detect, left signatures, visible sigils to her eyes. Mages saw these sigils in entirely different ways, but to Kaylin they were like words. Like signatures.

Azoria’s enchantments left none, and she didn’t understand why. She was aware that not all magic was strong enough to leave that kind of signature, but if this wasn’t strong enough, nothing should have been.

Hope continued to leave one wing over the eye closest to him; he expected that she would need it. “Will she be okay?” Kaylin asked her familiar.

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