Free Time After Time (Cora's Bond) by V. M. Black

Even if I have to storm the gates of hell itself, I’ll never leave you.”
    I nodded, swallowing back my tears. All I knew was that I’d come close to losing him, but I still had no idea how or what had happened. I saw in his closed face his stark intention of keeping it from me, and deep inside the pit of my stomach, I despaired.
    “Tonight is the vigil for Jean and Hattie,” he said. “Are you coming?”
    “Vigil?” I echoed, not having any context for the word.
    “The wake, it’s called more commonly now among humans, I believe,” he said, “though agnatic practice, like human practice, has changed over the years.”
    “Oh.” I didn’t know if I could stand that just then, not when all my nerves felt so taut and raw. I still didn’t want Hattie to be dead, and even though it didn’t make any sense, the finality of a wake and funeral made her death more real, and in my jumbled state, I didn’t think I could bear it.
    But Hattie wouldn’t have let her uncertainty stop her from doing anything she’d decided was important. And neither would I.
    I straightened my shoulders and swallowed down all the confusion of the past few days, and I said, “Of course I’ll go. You just surprised me. I was thinking of everything being tomorrow.”
    Dorian gave a slight, peculiarly stiff bow. “Of course. How remiss of me. I should have made a point to inform you ahead of time of the schedule of events.”
    “What happened?” I asked then, unable to keep back the question any longer. “Since Wednesday. And last night,” I clarified, even though I was completely certain that he knew what I meant.
    “So many things, Cora.” The darkness in his face wrung my heart.
    “You have to tell me,” I insisted, even though I knew full well that he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to.
    “I will,” he said. “It’s over, and I will. But not now. After the vigil.”
    “Do you promise?” I insisted, not trusting him, not after what he’d put me through. Not after what he’d done to himself.
    “I swear,” he said.
    I still wasn’t satisfied. “You have to answer all of my questions now with real answers, not stuff you know I won’t understand.”
    Looking tired, he agreed. “Real answers, Cora. Complete answers. Worth will help you dress. The car is already waiting.”
    I nodded, and reluctantly, I stepped back and let him go. He watched me go up the stairs with a burning gaze that seemed to sear my soul.
    ***
    A Mercedes limousine that I hadn’t seen before whisked us to a high-rise apartment building in Arlington, and where it stopped under the overhang by the double brass doors. Dorian offered me his arm as I climbed from the car, and I took it automatically. We approached, and a white-gloved doorman bowed us into the foyer at Dorian’s murmur of, “Morel-Buchanan vigil.”
    “Are you sure I look okay?” I asked, adjusting the small black hat that Jane Worth had pinned to my head.
    “If you were of a different temperament, I’d say you were fishing for complements,” Dorian said as we crossed the gleaming lobby to the bank of elevators.
    “That’s not what I meant. I meant, are you sure it’s the right thing to wear? To a funeral?” I wore a strappy black cocktail dress under my heavy coat and spike heels to match.
    Dorian looked me up and down, and my skin prickled in the wake of his gaze. “No, but for a vigil it is.”
    “I don’t like funerals.” My hand tightened over his arm as the elevator doors slid open. “Or vigils. Or wakes.”
    “We’re only going to a few hours of this one, at the most. Less if you wish,” he said. We stepped inside the cabin, and he hit the button for the top floor.
    “Right,” I said. “Hours.”
    I dropped into silence as I realized how shallow and whiny I sounded. I didn’t mean to be either. What I really wanted was for Dorian to talk to me, to tell me what had happened to him that had caused me to spend the previous night doubled over the