Building From Ashes (21 page)

Which didn’t mean he didn’t know exactly what Anne was talking about. If there was anyone who needed to say what was on her mind more, it was Brigid. As acerbic as her wit could be, when it came to personal things, she was as defensive as ever. And with her immortal powers and the protection of amnis, her mind was completely impenetrable, even to Anne.

“Brigid, why do you think Tavish and Cathy fight? Does it make you uncomfortable?” Anne asked.

“Oh no,” Brigid said. Her eyes flicked toward Carwyn before she looked back at Anne. “We’re not doing that here, Anne.”

“Why not?”

Brigid’s eyes flickered to his once more before she exchanged some sort of wordless conversation with the other woman. The water vampire finally shrugged and muttered, “Fine. It’ll all come out at some point.”

“Anne…” Brigid’s voice was a low growl that made him bite his cheek.

Damn if every growl, every peek of fang, every glare from her inhuman eyes didn’t put him on edge.

He’d tried, damn it. Carwyn had tried to push back the attraction he’d recognized so many months before, but once the trauma of Brigid’s turning had passed, once they had established a more normal pace of life in the Highlands, it came roaring back, stronger than ever. She was immortal now. Every part of her called out to him. Her crackling energy. Her penetrating stare. Her sharp wit. The rugged heart of her, so strong despite all she had been through.

And layered beneath all of that, a vulnerability that she’d shown to precious few. So few that he counted himself lucky to have ever caught a glimpse. His feelings of pure, male attraction were quickly turning into something far more dangerous.

Brigid and Anne had slipped into Irish, which they often did when they were speaking of things the young vampire found uncomfortable.

“I think you’re delaying dealing with things that—”

“I’m not talking about this right now.”

“Why not? No one hides their feelings in this home, Brigid. It’s one of the reasons I wanted to come here. The courtesy you were raised with has many fine qualities. I know you were always taught to be careful with your words and mind your tongue, but in this case, while we are here—”

“I’m not talking about it right now!”

Brigid stood up and stormed from the room. Madoc loped after her. A few moments later, Carwyn heard the front door slam and then the dog’s howl as it set off across the grounds. Max and Cathy had sent away the human who traveled with them, so there were no mortals around for miles. She was safe and the pervasive mist that filled the hills would keep her from losing control of her fire.

“You need to stop needling her, Anne.”

“You need to leave.”

He started. “What?”

“You, Carwyn. Need. To. Leave.”

He frowned. “Why?”

Anne let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you really not know?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He picked up a book and opened it.

Anne frowned and narrowed her eyes. “You’re almost as interesting a case study as she is. Seemingly involved, and yet maintaining such a state of aloof separation. I suppose after a thousand years, the humor provides a kind of shield that—”

“Anne, I am not a patient. Stop it.”

She broke into a grin. “Think. You know why you need to leave. Brigid’s not here. It’s just me. You can admit what you’re feeling. I won’t say a word.”

Well, shit
. He squirmed a little and took another drink of his beer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the way you look at her, Carwyn. I’m talking about her reaction to it, whether she realizes it or not.”

His eyes darted up. “You think she realizes it?”

“Maybe not consciously, but Brigid avoids talking about things she thinks will upset you when you’re around.”

He held his breath for a moment before he let it out with a sigh. “The… feelings. They’re not her problem. They’re mine.”

“What makes you think they’re a problem at all? I’m not saying that.”

“But you think I should leave her?” He set down the book he’d been pretending to read. “I told her I’d help her. I told her…”
to hold on to me
. He rubbed the red scar on his chest where her small hand had branded him.

Anne’s face softened. “She’s not a project, Carwyn.”

He looked away and stared into the fire. “I know that, Anne. I’m not an idiot.”

Anne offered him a sympathetic smile. “Brigid is a protector. That’s how she deals with her past. And she senses that her distress causes you pain, so she’s avoiding dealing with the things she needs to in order to gain control.”

He let out a hoarse laugh. “You think… you think she’s worried about
me
?”

“Yes.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“No, it’s just who she is. It’s her character, Carwyn, and it’s not a bad thing. You’re a comforter; she’s a protector. But she doesn’t need comfort right now. She needs to be able to be angry and learn how to deal with it, and for that, you need to leave.”

His heart ached at the thought of leaving Brigid. Of being so far away, even if she was surrounded by friends and family. Carwyn had told her that he’d take care of her.

“I can’t, Anne.” His whisper was hoarse. “Do what you need to. I’ll keep my distance, but don’t ask me to leave.”

Anne set her knitting aside and leaned forward. “I know you’re not my patient, so consider this as a friend. Your world, the life and family you’ve spent a thousand years building, has suffered a tremendous loss. You are trying to help Brigid, but think for a moment. Do you want to stay for her? Or for yourself?”

He stared into the mirror over the dresser in his room, his right hand covering the delicate outline burned into his chest. Angry red bands wrapped around his shoulders where her arms had lain. The scars were still bright, though the skin was no longer blistered. How long would it take to heal?

Months? Years? His fingers traced the lines that lay over his heart.

A strange part of him treasured the evidence of her. After a thousand years of seeing the same reflection, Brigid’s hand had marked him. Changed him. And in the back of his mind he knew that, even when the scars healed, he would never be the same.

A knock came, quickly followed by the door bursting open. Tavish stomped in with a pile of towels.

“Here.”

“Thanks for knocking.” Carwyn reached over and pulled on a garish shirt he hoped would make Brigid roll her eyes.

“You’re welcome.”

“What were you and Cathy fighting about earlier?”

“Couldn’t you hear?”

“I was distracted.”

Tavish only snorted and muttered something under his breath.

Carwyn cocked an eyebrow. “What was that?”

The surly vampire looked up with what could almost be considered a smile.

On a bulldog.

“I said I can’t imagine what has been distracting you… Father.”

“I’ve been contemplating the new breeding program you wrote me about for the cattle.”

Tavish’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“No, not really.” He threw a wadded towel at him. “No one is as excited about cow genetics are you are.”

An almost-wistful look crossed Tavish’s lined face. “Ioan was.”

Carwyn smiled. No, he wasn’t. But his oldest son had been interested in any subject that any of his siblings was passionate about, from Highland Cattle to rainforest conservation to homeless children.

Carwyn nodded. “Did you get that article I sent a few months ago? He had it marked on his desk for you.”

“I did.” The gruff vampire cleared his throat. “Thanks. And Cathy and I were arguing about the girl.”

“Who, Brigid?”

“No, the other new vampire you follow around.”

“Shut it.”

“Fine. I’m not one to pry. I’ll only say that it’s long overdue.”

Carwyn frowned. “Nothing is going on. And even if it was, this is coming from you? The most confirmed bachelor I’ve ever met?”

Tavish rolled his eyes. “I don’t like women. You do. You should have one. It would probably be a civilizing influence. And I actually… like the girl.”

“You do?”

“I do. She’s not frivolous.”

Carwyn clapped Tavish on the shoulder. “Stop with the relentless flattery, son. I doubt she’s interested in a decrepit vampire such as yourself.”

Tavish crossed his arms. “Ha. She’s smart and as long as she doesn’t kill herself or anyone else, I don’t mind having her around.”

Carwyn was speechless. That was, perhaps, the nicest thing he’d ever heard his youngest child say about… anyone. Ever. Carwyn had saved Max from the battlefields of France during the First World War, not realizing that the young man had a twin. When he’d given in to Max’s wishes to visit his ancestral home twenty years later, he’d had no idea that Tavish would storm after them into the night, calling his brother’s name as if linked by some eternal and unbreakable bond.

Tavish must have seen the look on his face. “What are you getting maudlin about?”

“You and Max. Two children could never be more different, and yet you care so deeply for each other.”

“I’d like him better if he hadn’t waited twenty years to come home. He left me with all the damn work on this place and I knew he wasn’t dead. Lazy arse. And I’d like him even more if he hadn’t married the American harpy.”

Carwyn gave him a rueful smile. “He’s happy.”

Tavish’s face softened almost immediately. “Aye, he is. She makes him very happy. It’d be good to see another as happy, if you catch my meaning.”

Castle Mackenzie, Scotland

November 2010

‘We’re going to our home in South America. She’s devastated, Father. More than I’ve ever seen before. Since she’s turned, she can’t see any of her human family. She cannot see Benjamin. I’m asking for your help. I cannot watch her descend into despair like this. I cannot. She needs you, my friend. We both do.’

Carwyn clutched the letter that had finally reached him from China. He’d read it three times, but the contents never seemed to change.

Beatrice De Novo’s father, whom they had searched the world for, was dead.

The book, the manuscript that Lorenzo had been looking for, was gone, taken back by the monster who had torn his family in two. Had Ioan known of the book, somehow? It contained a mysterious formula purported to be the Elixir of Life, but there were more questions than answers in its discovery. Had this been what Ioan had been tortured for? So many of the answers they sought had died with Ioan and now, Stephen De Novo. But… there was an elixir. An elixir for humans that a vampire wanted. It had to be connected somehow.

Beatrice, like Brigid, was a vampire. Her father, Stephen, had sired her only weeks before he had been murdered by the same scum who killed Ioan.

Carwyn’s head fell in his hands. His friend had lost her father and her sire.

‘She needs you, my friend. We both do.’

Giovanni Vecchio, the immortal Carwyn had called on so many times to protect his family or help a friend, asked him to come to comfort. To counsel. Carwyn sat on the edge of his bed and looked at the shaggy face of the wolfhound puppy who watched him. He took a deep breath and ran a rough hand though the scruff at the dog’s chin.

“I have to go, Madoc.”

The dog only offered a whine.

“I know. I won’t make you go on the boat. Will you stay here? Keep an eye on things?” On her.

Brigid was stronger every day, and so was his fascination with the young vampire. Carwyn took a deep breath and a mental step back. He knew he needed distance. He had become infatuated with the girl, and he was coming to understand what Anne had been trying to say to him weeks ago. His reasons for staying were selfish.

He needed to leave.

His hand rubbed over the scar over his heart. Carwyn set the letter on the dressing table before he stood and opened the door. He paused on the stairs and caught the tail end of a conversation Brigid was having on the phone in the downstairs library.

“…I’d say no more than a year.”

There was a pause as she let the other person talk.

“No, I’m doing quite well.” Another pause. “Yes, Cathy Mackenzie from Edinburgh.” A low laugh. “No, Murphy, she’s not trying to get me to stay. I think one fire vampire per city is enough, don’t you?”

Murphy. Carwyn smothered the low growl and continued walking.

“Don’t tell me you’ve found someone to replace me already!” He could hear the smile in her voice. She was teasing the water vampire over the phone line. Friendly and familiar, with none of the awkwardness she often had in his presence.

“I’m grateful. No, I am. You don’t have to do that, but I won’t lie, I miss working. I hope… I just hope I can be the asset that you need.”

She was grateful? His Brigid was grateful to the upstart Dubliner? Didn’t she have any idea how valuable she was? Murphy should be thanking his lucky stars and all the saints that Brigid was willing to come back to the city that had so many unpleasant associations. With her skills, connections, and elemental ability, Brigid Connor could have had her pick of new beginnings. Terry and Gemma would love to snatch her for their organization in London. His allies in New York had long sought a more permanent connection with his clan. Not to mention all the people who owed him or Ioan favors. If Brigid had held a special status as a human, she had no idea how valuable and sought after she would be as a rare and well-connected fire vampire.

But Brigid was grateful to Murphy. It stuck in his throat.

“I need to go. It was great talking to you. And say hi to Angie and Tom. Declan, too.” Another pause. “No, of course not Jack. Tell that arse he better invest in some fireproof pants.”

Carwyn grinned. There she was. He saw the expected scowl when he walked into the library and she turned to look at him. Brigid lifted her hand in a small wave and turned back around.

“No… no, Murphy, I really need to go.” She tapped her fingers on the table. “Okay. Okay. Bye.”

He gave her a moment to collect herself. He could feel her hot energy spike as he came in the room, but he could also feel the waves of amnis that emanated from her begin to smooth and even out. Finally, she turned and leaned against the back of the sofa.