But she often turned to Kaylin, and in particular to Kaylin’s cupped hands; she offered those hands an encouraging smile. If she was self-conscious about talking to ghosts in public, none of that showed; she had chosen possible embarrassment over social fear.

On the other hand, Teela—who accompanied them—and Terrano, who was on the way home as well, knew that she wasn’t talking to nothing.

Sanabalis couldn’t drop back to speak privately to Kaylin; he looked like he wanted to, but Mrs. Erickson’s presence prevented that. Kaylin wasn’t certain whether or not to be grateful. Although Sanabalis was shockingly charming, his eyes remained predominantly orange; Kaylin wondered if it took effort to keep the flecks of red there to a minimum.

Most humans had no interaction with Dragons, but red eyes always looked slightly threatening.

Helen was waiting at the open door; she came out the moment Kaylin crossed the threshold. From a distance, it should have been difficult to see the color of Helen’s eyes; it wasn’t. They were obsidian. She did, however, wear her normal clothing, and her expression, if you didn’t notice her eyes, was gentle and welcoming.

She offered Sanabalis a nod—not a bow. “Welcome, Arkon.”

“Yes,” Sanabalis said.

Helen’s eyes did not revert to their normal color. “Please, come in.” She then turned to Mrs. Erickson, her expression far less welcoming than Kaylin had expected, which, given Helen’s welcome of the cohort—one of whom had arguably tried to kill Kaylin—came as a shock.

The expression did soften. “Please forgive me,” she said, voice soft. “I...heard a cause for alarm on the perimeter, and you catch me at my most wary. Please, come in.” She moved out of the doorway. When she glanced back at Kaylin, her eyes were their normal brown, and her expression, careworn but warm. “Hello, An’Teela. It is approaching dinnertime—will you stay?”

Teela nodded, her eyes midnight.

Helen wasn’t human. She had never been human. She turned to Kaylin. “What do you carry?”

“I...I think they’re words.”

“They are,” Helen replied. “But what do you intend for them? They are old words, Kaylin, and even when my memory was not so fractured, I do not think I would have been able to speak them, to read them.”

Kaylin glanced at Mrs. Erickson. “Mrs. Erickson thinks they’re ghosts.”

Helen’s brow furrowed, but it was brief; Kaylin knew she had given up on polite questions and was, instead, shuffling through Kaylin’s memories, looking for what ghost meant. Her brows rose, and she turned to Sanabalis, who waited.

He nodded.

“Oh, my dear,” Helen said to Mrs. Erickson. The Avatar held out both of her hands, palm up, and almost without thought, Mrs. Erickson placed hers over them. “I am so terribly, terribly sorry. Come in. Here, unless you desire it, you will not hear their voices.”