Page 17 of 'Til All the Seas Run Dry

“What if I don’t want to forgive her?”

She smiled softly. “You come to my house tomorrow night, okay? It’s about a split-second walk for you. I’ll answer all your questions then.”

“Because you’ve answered them so well tonight,” he said drily.

She snorted a laugh. “Tonight was an icebreaker. We’re friends now. We can be honest tomorrow.” She stood in the doorway for a moment. “The vault door locks from the inside. Nobody can get in from outside unless you unlock it. And nobody can lock you inside from the outside either.”

He nodded tightly, appreciating this safety measure.

“Tomorrow night, Cal,” she said firmly, her voice taking on that no-nonsense maternal tone that hadn’t been used on him in hundreds of years. He felt an ache behind his ribs.

“Get some sleep. You look like shit,” she said as she climbed the stairs and Callum’s laugh burst forth from his chest.

He was tired. It was hours until sunrise, but he wanted to sleep now. He wanted to sleep now and all through the day in this vault that locked from the inside behind the house of this woman who, despite what he’d said, he did like. He locked the vault, turning the crank and hearing the heavy steel tumblers slide into place.

He slid into the bed, the quilt providing a pleasant weight over his body, and closed his eyes. Sleep was close, lingering just beyond the jumble of his thoughts, his grief. His guilt. And as he let it wash over him like a fog, he tasted salt.

7

Jory woke to find tears streaming down her cheeks, soaking the pillow and her hair equally. She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, relishing the sparking light the action created in her vision. She’d been inches away from him after hundreds of years, and she hadn’t been able to decide whether to kiss him or strangle him. Or kiss him, andthenstrangle him. Or— No. None of that.

She couldn’t be around him. She was sure that he’d left town last night and that she’d never have to see him again, but something about his parting words before he’d left rattled her.“We’re far from finished.”

She inhaled a deep, shuddering breath before rolling to her side and grabbing her phone.

Esther had texted last night.

You okay?

Jory?

Jory, so help me god, if you do not respond by 8am tomorrow, I will break down your door.

She looked at the clock at the top of the phone screen. It was 7:09 a.m.

I’m fine. No need to break the door.

She saw the three dots that indicated Esther was typing. She was surprised, frankly. She thought for sure that Esther would still be asleep because she knew for sure that Hank, hungover from panic and worry, had been balls-deep in Esther within moments of getting her alone and probably hadn’t quit for hours.

You okay? Last night was bananas.

It was fucking bullshit, Esther.

Or that.

Another three dots. Jory sat up and drained her water bottle, feeling less shaky from her nightmare as the water poured down her throat.

Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want to talk about it?

Yes. And yes.

But not right now.

While Esther typed her response, Jory clicked over to her email app and scrolled. Her eyes caught on one from her old friend Rosa.

Jory,

I’m liquidating an estate in Santa Fe this week. The sale opens on Wednesday, but if you could get here tomorrow, I’ll give you a private showing. Jewelry. Clothes. Antiques. Frida Kahlo sketches. EVERYTHING. Get your ass here.