Page 83 of Cast in Atonement

“When you entered Azoria’s old place, what did you see? You said the building looked fuzzy, or ghostlike, to your eyes. Storybook ghosts, not real ones.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not what upset you.”

Mrs. Erickson took some time to gather her words. She’d had no problem with them while speaking of Jamal. “No. When Tilly died—when I refused to accept that she was dead—she was blurry to me. I believed it was because I was crying; I was crying a lot, and it’s hard to see through watery eyes. I believed it until the moment we entered Azoria’s home.

“But it wasn’t that. That blurriness—it wasn’t because of my tears. It wasn’t that I couldn’t see. It was that I could see the same strange glow—no, that’s the wrong word, maybe cloud is better—in the foyer. It was clearest near the new statues, and faintest near the gallery. The statues were made of white stone, but the odd glow made them look like corpses. Had I done whatever I’d done to Tilly, I’m certain they would have moved.”

“They did.”

“Yes, but...they would have moved as I ordered them to move. But as we approached the end of the hall—the empty, large self-portrait—that cloud became almost all I could see.

“Somewhere, there’s a body, a corpse, something, and it wants to be animated.” Having said this, she slumped back in the chair, as if the words had been a colossal physical burden. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I’m breaking a promise I made to Jamal by telling you now: it was important to him that no one ever know. I’d already experienced mockery and abuse for seeing ghosts; no one believed me, and everyone began to avoid me.

“Jamal said it would be far, far worse. I was young. I believed him. And, Kaylin, I still believe him. I wouldn’t speak at all—and I don’t think you’d try to force me to speak—if Evanton hadn’t disappeared.”

“How did you see Evanton?” Kaylin asked, keeping her voice as neutral, as even, as possible.

“When I met him here? He looked like a responsible gentleman.”

Not the way Kaylin would have described him.

“Even when we entered Azoria’s. All of you looked the same. Terrano may have looked a bit odd, but I think he did that on purpose.”

“What did Evanton look like before he told us all to run?”

“I couldn’t see him clearly.”

“Did you see the light? The white light that seemed to explode out from where his hand touched the canvas?”

“Not as light, and not the way I saw the corporal’s weapon.”

“What did you see? What do you think caused the rest of us to flee?”

“The same fuzziness I saw in the foyer—but denser, thicker. That’s what was spreading, to my eyes.”

“And the statues?”

“I haven’t seen a lot of corpses, you understand. People came to help me when my husband passed, and we had a very modest funeral. I wasn’t certain anyone would come, but people did.”

“Did he—I know this is difficult, and I’m sorry. But did your husband’s body look like—like Tilly’s to you?”

“Yes. Yes, it did. But I could never do to him—to my memories of him—what I did to Tilly. I was no longer a child. I understood the absolute difference between life and death where the body was concerned.”

“I’m sorry—just one more question. I should let you sleep, but I’m afraid I’m going to get seconded to the Academia tomorrow once word of tonight’s events gets out. Did Evanton look like Tilly or your husband at the end?”

“I don’t know. The last I saw of him—and I wasn’t facing the painting when Bellusdeo helped me leave—no. But he was surrounded by those clouds.”

“The same clouds that made the statues glow?”

“That is not one more question,” Helen said.

Kaylin grimaced. “Did the statues look like Tilly looked after you’d tried to wake her up?”

Mrs. Erickson nodded.

“Could you have put them to sleep again?”

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