Lover Reborn (Black Dagger Brotherhood 10)

The contact comforted them both.

When they emerged into the kitchen, there was too much Last Meal chaos for any of the staff to really notice them - so fortunately there were no questions, no kind inquiries, no guesses about why they were all looking so serious.

Out the butler's pantry. Hop across to the hidden door beneath the staircase. Down into the tunnel to avoid the cold of the winter.

As they hung a right and headed in the opposite direction from the training center, he couldn't believe on some level that this was happening. His shitkickers even faltered a couple of times, like maybe they were trying to pull him away from this last piece.

He was resolved, however.

At the door that led into the Pit, V punched in the code and opened the way up, indicating that they should go first.

The place where Butch and V bunked in with their shellans was the same as always - except neater now that there were females cohabitating there: The Sports Illustrateds were in an orderly pile on the coffee table; the kitchen didn't have empty bottles of Lag and Goose all over the counters; and there were no more gym bags or biker jackets hanging off of everything.

V's Four Toys still took up one whole corner, however, and the massive plasma-screen TV remained the biggest thing in the place.

Some things would never change.

"She's in my room. "

Tohr wouldn't ordinarily follow the guy into his private space, but this was not ordinary.

V and Doc Jane's room was small and had more books than bed in it, stacks of physics tomes and chemistry volumes crowding the rug until you could barely walk on it. The good doctor made sure the place wasn't a total pigsty, however, with the duvet all pulled up nice and neat, and the pillows angled carefully against the headboard.

Over in the corner, Vishous opened the closet and reached up to the top shelf, straining even with his height for. . .

The black velvet - wrapped bundle he brought out was big enough and heavy enough to require both hands, and he grunted as he eased back and carried it over to the bed.

As he put the thing down, Tohr had to force himself to keep breathing.

There she was. His Wellsie. Everything that was left of her on earth.

Lowering onto his knees before her, he reached forward and undid the satin bow at the top. With hands that shook, he pried the velvet bag open and pushed it down, revealing a sterling silver urn that had art deco etchings on its four sides.

"Where did you get this?" he said, running a forefinger down the bright, shiny metal.

"Darius had it in a back room. I think it's Tiffany, from the thirties. Fritz polished it up. "

The urn was not part of their tradition.

Ashes were not meant to be kept.

They were supposed to be set free.

"It's beautiful. " He glanced up at John. The kid's face was pale, his lips tight. . . and in a quick, slashing movement, he brushed under his left eye. "We're ready to do her Fade ceremony, aren't we, son. "

John nodded.

"When?" V asked.

"Tomorrow night, I think. " As John nodded again, Tohr said, "Yeah, tomorrow. "

"You want I talk to Fritz and set it up?" V asked.

"Thanks, but I'll take care of it. John and I are going to do it. " Tohr refocused on the lovely urn. "He and I are going to let her go. . . together. "

Standing over Tohr, John was having a difficult time keeping it together. Hard to know what was getting to him more: the fact that Wellsie was actually in the room with them again, or that Tohr was kneeling before that urn as if his legs weren't working right.

The past couple of nights had been a brutal exercise in reorientation. It wasn't that he hadn't known Wellsie was gone; it was just. . . dismantling everything in that house had made that fact so loud, there was a constant screaming in his head.