He shouldn't have been there. He belonged in some safe and musty manor somewhere, serving tea to a little old lady and her grandchildren. She wasn't sure she would be able to forgive him for this any time soon, if ever. But after twenty years of friendship and unflinching service he deserved the spot she'd given him, the plot next to hers. She was too old to marry, too set in her ways, and her father was buried elsewhere. Lara felt she deserved some companionship in death, however far in the future she hoped it to be.

She'd just never expected him to die like that. Saving her from a demon living in the catacombs she was exploring when he should have been at home, getting her things ready for her next trip. But a visiting cousin from the Watcher's Council had mentioned a prophecy connected to her and he'd been on a plane to Africa the next day, ready to protect her, no matter the cost.

He'd never been a foolish man, her Hillary. But his devotion to her had often fluctuated between that of a brother, a good friend, or the exquisite butler she'd always thought he was. She knew he would have been embarrassed by the place of honor she'd given him in the Croft family burial grounds but he was dead and she wasn't. She needed to know that he would be safe from harm, at her right hand, from now on. It didn't prevent her feeling guilty for his death. She'd been unable to protect him this time.