She considered it, but she was afraid that Mrs. Erickson’s resulting guilt might cause her to pass on early. Mrs. Erickson had the ability to force Jamal to go—but she would never use it against Jamal. Everything else relied on persuasion, and Jamal was not in a mood to be persuaded.

“I promise,” she said, thinking of Helen. “I promise that I will take care of Mrs. Erickson.”

“Will you live here?” The edge in his voice was so sharp it should have cut him.

“I’m not sure Mrs. Erickson would enjoy that; I tend to get mirrored at all hours of the night if there’s an emergency. And it’s her house—it’s not your offer to make.”

“Then how?” He was such a suspicious child.

“I have a home. It’s not the home Mrs. Erickson grew up in, and she might refuse, but I will offer her rooms in my house.” Kaylin hesitated, and then said, “My house isn’t like yours. It’s not like Azoria’s, either. But it is a sentient building. Mrs. Erickson has already met Helen, the core of my house, and Helen approved of her.

“If Mrs. Erickson was willing, we’d both be delighted if she came to live with us. Would that be enough for you?”

Jamal nodded, and turned to Mrs. Erickson, whose disapproval had been replaced by anxiety and guilt. “Same deal,” he said. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Jamal, I’m—”

“Younger than we are, even if you don’t look it. I trust Kaylin. She cares about you. You have to trust her, too.” When Mrs. Erickson failed to answer, he said, in a slightly gentler tone of voice, “It’s not only the dead who are capable of loving you as you are.”

Kaylin was beginning to understand why Jamal could get away with breaking random things when he lost his temper; he was just one side of manipulative. The wrong side. Nor did he seem to care.

But she understood his fear, his concern, and the reason he was being a demanding little extortionist. If he looked—and mostly acted—like a jealous child, he had seen her born. He had seen her crawl, walk, learn to speak. The reason he had come to her side didn’t matter, either to Mrs. Erickson or Jamal himself. He had grown to love her, just as she had always loved him. If the love changed with time on both sides, it nonetheless existed.

In his position, Kaylin thought she would have been the same. But...she wasn’t a child; she wasn’t a lifelong friend. If pressure was going to be brought to bear, it was Jamal’s pressure: he was family. She therefore said nothing.

Mrs. Erickson looked at Kaylin in mute appeal.