Page 32 of Cast in Atonement

“Fine. You carry the basket.”

“The basket?”

“Mrs. Erickson baked for the Hawks; I think she’d’ve accompanied me to work if it hadn’t been for last night’s excitement.”

“Which you’re about to explain,” Bellusdeo added, voice and expression grim. Ugh. Of course it was. Mrs. Erickson was her only conduit to her dead sisters. Mrs. Erickson’s untrained powers might—just might—be able to somehow free them, just as Jamal and company had been freed.

Kaylin didn’t expect Bellusdeo to care all that much about the other ghosts. Which made sense. Bellusdeo was no longer living with Helen, so her experience with the danger these ghosts presented wasn’t visceral.

As they walked to work, Kaylin attempted to change that. The walk was therefore slower than usual. Mandoran was quiet, which wasn’t like him; words would have deflected Bellusdeo’s attention, where silence drew it.

By the time they’d reached the Halls of Law, Bellusdeo was caught up on anything she’d missed. She didn’t set aside her own request of Mrs. Erickson, but understood that the old woman’s safety might be at risk. There were just too many things that were overlapping Mrs. Erickson—most of them were questions, not answers.

Hope didn’t snore, but it wouldn’t have surprised Kaylin if he started today; he seemed floppier and more exhausted than usual. She wondered what she would do if he ever got sick. Wondered if there were anything she could do. Wondered, last, if Hope could die, or if Hope were even alive in any meaning of the word Kaylin, as a Hawk, understood it.

It wasn’t a comforting thought.

She knew he’d hatched from a very odd egg, but still wondered where he’d come from, and why he’d come to her. It wasn’t just the marks of the Chosen. He’d even eaten one of them. Or maybe it was the marks, because he had eaten one of them.

Hope squawked, but it was a pathetic squawk; it barely rose above the sound of the people in the streets.

Kaylin clocked in on time. She then turned to Mandoran and liberated the basket of baked goods Mrs. Erickson had sent before heading to the public desk, where Rybatte was on duty. He was one of the older Hawks; he’d lost three fingers on his left hand, and unless there was a terrible emergency, he was on permanent desk work.

“I hear you covered the desk in my absence,” he said, glancing at the basket. “That’s from Mrs. Erickson?”

Kaylin nodded.

“We haven’t seen her around much this past week. Did she injure herself?”

“No—but she’s living with me, and she’s just settling in. I keep an eye out.”

“And gain weight?”

“How many cookies can I eat in a day?”

Rybatte laughed. “One of the only perks of this rotating desk is her baking. She’s come in with some pretty wild stories—but mostly, they’re mundane.”

Kaylin grimaced. “She meant to come in person today, but she was just too tired.”

“You’re making her work?”

“Not intentionally.” Kaylin set the basket on the desk, lifted its lid, and discovered that it wasn’t cookies today, it was muffins. She took one. “I’ll tell her she’s missed.”

The door behind the desk opened. Bridget stood in the frame. “Tell her she’s free to come visit without forcing the people on desk duty to write up a report.”

“She misses her daily routine,” Kaylin replied. “But I think she’d feel guilty if she came for no reason.”

Bridget took one muffin out of the basket, considered the contents, and took another one. She left the two on the desk and took the basket instead. “I’ll send the empty basket to your desk.”

Severn didn’t appear to notice that Bellusdeo had shouldered her way into their two-person patrol. He offered the Dragon a nod as if she were a natural third partner. Mandoran, in theory, headed home. In practice, he pulled a Terrano, and trailed them as if he were an invisible shadow.

Elani street wasn’t a danger. It was annoying, sometimes enraging, but that was the reaction of anyone who wasn’t interested in fleecing the gullible of money. And if she were being fair—which was difficult, especially when she passed Margot’s shop and saw the small lineup outside the closed door—Evanton’s store was here, and some stores that sold jewelry and clothing were interspersed with the seeing the future, cures for baldness, and communicating with the deceased.

Kaylin wondered what it would be like if Mrs. Erickson could set up a small store here. She probably wouldn’t have nearly the clientele that Margot had fostered, because Margot was young and, in some eyes, beautiful, and Mrs. Erickson was old. But Mrs. Erickson’s gift was genuine.

And Mrs. Erickson couldn’t see ghosts that weren’t there. She didn’t have a way to communicate with the dead on command; she could see ghosts anchored to the places not even death let them escape, but she couldn’t magically bring them here, to Elani, where the grieving and desperate came.

Why was so much of life about death?

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