“My mother used to love that room,” Mrs. Erickson said, as she handed the lamp to Kaylin. “My father loved it because she did. She was happy there.”

The children said nothing.

“We didn’t have a lot of money, but we had enough to get by. She had a painting done, of the three of us. I’d like to see it again; I haven’t looked at it for the better part of two decades.”

“I’ll try to find it—do you want me to bring it out of the room?”

She smiled. “I’m sure you have better things to worry about.”

Katie, however, whispered, “Don’t find it. Lose it forever.”

Kaylin made a mental note of that as she carried the light down the hall and into the room.

Teela stood in the exact same position she’d occupied when Kaylin had left. She raised a brow at the lamp, but said nothing.

“If magical light makes things darker, I thought normal light would let us see what the room looks like otherwise.”

“It’s not a bad thought, unless you intend to traipse all over the room because you can no longer see the darker parts.”

“The kids didn’t always dislike the room, for what it’s worth. Mrs. Erickson said it started maybe twenty years ago. Before you ask, she didn’t give specific dates. At first, the kids just started to avoid the room, but after a while, they started to demand she avoid it as well. They didn’t react well to her entering it.”

Teela nodded. “Two decades, give or take a few years?”

“That’s what she said. The room was in use while her parents were alive; apparently her mother really liked it. She had a painting done of the family when they were younger, and Mrs. Erickson wants us to find it.”

“It’s on the wall.”

Kaylin lifted her lamp. “Which wall?”

“The wall to the left of the door—it’s behind you.”

Kaylin nodded. “She said I can carry it out.”

“I assume she meant without causing any damage to it.”

“So do I. It’s a painting, how hard can it be to move?” As the words left her mouth, Hope—who had been so silent she’d once again forgotten he occupied her shoulder, pushed himself to his feet. Kaylin stopped moving and lifted the lamp. “You have something you want to add? Do not slap me in the face with the wing.”

Hope squawked without syllables and pushed himself off her shoulder, circled her face before he swatted her forehead with his tail.

“Technically he did obey you,” Teela said, amused.

Hope squawked again, but this time it was more than angry bird vocalization, because Teela’s amusement guttered. “He feels it very important that one of us avoid that painting,” she told Kaylin.

“Does he think it would be harmful to Mrs. Erickson?”

Hope squawked.