Building From Ashes (27 page)

“And you’d force me to bid good-bye to another friend when I’ve just said good-bye to Ioan?”

Carwyn was mostly joking. He’d known his old friend was failing for a few years. The signs and scents of impending death were evident. It would be a matter of months until Father Hugh went to his eternal home.

The priest looked up and smiled wistfully. “Surely God knew that I would be arriving shortly. Why else would he call my old friend Ioan to keep me company in eternity?”

The familiar bitter ache curled in his belly. Another age, another friend lost. Carwyn’s voice was hoarse. “Well, our Father must have needed a few bad jokes about Irishmen.”

Father Hugh’s eyes twinkled. “Carwyn,
everyone
needs a few bad jokes about Irishmen.”

Carwyn laughed as the old man settled into the chair and pointed the vampire toward the sherry. “Help yourself. If you could pour me just a small glass, I’d be glad.”

“Of course.” He walked over and poured a small amount of the wine into two glasses and brought them over.

“How is your family? I received a lovely letter from Deirdre when I wrote her after Ioan’s loss. She seems to be doing as well as she can.”

“She is. And she has a new member of her clan who has… kept her busy.”

“A new child?” Father Hugh’s eyes furrowed. “Someone in need of healing?”

Carwyn had never elaborated on the specifics of siring vampires with the old priest. His thoughts turned to Brigid for the thousandth time.
‘Someone in need of healing…’

“Yes.” He nodded. “It was a… a friend in need of healing. She seems to be doing very well in immortality, so we are grateful for that.”

“Why the unexpected visit? I hope Sister Maggie is satisfied with Father Samuel. He’s sent me regular updates and seems very happy in the village.” Father Hugh’s eyes twinkled. “A very enthusiastic boy. The young ones are often like that.”

“And often lose it in time, Hugh. You are a rare one.”

“I have been given the gift of joy. Something I think we’ve always shared, though…”

Carwyn looked up in concern, noting the old man’s downcast expression. “What is it, Hugh? Are you all right?”

“It’s not me.” Hugh smiled. “What is troubling
you
, old friend?”

Carwyn leaned back and sighed. “You’ve always been a sharp one.”

“Found out what you were, didn’t I?”

“That, you did.”

“What is it? I don’t have eternity like some people.”

He laughed and took a sip of wine. “I’m thinking of leaving. The priesthood, I mean.”

Hugh’s mouth dropped open. “Leaving the church?”

“Not the
church
.” He shook his head. “The priesthood.”

“Why?” Hugh scooted toward him. “Do not mistake me. I am not wholly surprised by this. After all, a thousand years of service is incomprehensible to me. You have blessed so many. But I always thought you had resigned yourself to your solitude.”

Carwyn tapped his chin. “It was solitude, wasn’t it? I don’t think I ever saw it that way until recently.”

“Our parishioners are a kind of family. Your immortal clan is another. I know you speak of many friends. But…” Hugh offered a gentle smile. “We see life. As priests, we are observers, but often stand alone with our God and our calling. For a mortal man, it is a joyful sacrifice. But to face eternity without a mate, as you have, is something altogether different. I know that it was something Ioan and I spoke of.”

“I’m well aware of his views of my celibacy. I didn’t know that you’d spoken about them.”

“Well not in detail!” Hugh laughed. “What sort of men do you think we are?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?” Carwyn shook his head and said, “I don’t think I saw it that way until recently.”

“What? As solitude?”

“Yes.”

Hugh shrugged. “Well, you have always been busy. Tending your own flock. Seeing to your family. But that kind of company is not the same as the beauty of marriage that God consecrated for mankind.”

“True.”

Hugh’s eyes danced. “Is there someone who may have caused you to think differently?”

Carwyn had the urge to squirm like a schoolboy. Awkward, considering he’d known the old man across from him when
he
was a schoolboy. “I don’t need to go to confession, Hugh. Not yet, anyway. But there may be… someone.”

“She would be a fortunate woman to find a mate as devoted as you, Carwyn.”

Tears almost came to his eyes. He felt unexpectedly absolved by the approval of his old friend. “I believe I would be the lucky one. And I need to speak to Rome if I’m serious about things.”

“Arturo?”

Carwyn nodded, thinking about the cardinal based in Rome who oversaw the more… unusual members of the priesthood. “He won’t like it.”

“Does it matter?”

He grinned. “Not really.”

“What are they going to do? You serve a higher power than Rome.”

Carwyn lifted his glass to Hugh. “Spoken like a true Welshman.”

“Exactly. Now, as for your church, I think I shall ask Samuel to consider you ‘on sabbatical’ until further notice. I’ll send him a letter shortly letting him know that the care of the church is his until further notice.”

Carwyn thought about the small village he had called home for so many hundreds of years. The quiet strength and faithfulness of its people. “He’s good?” he asked in a rough voice. “This Samuel. He’s cares about the village?”

“He does. And his energy, enthusiasm,
and
ability to go out in sunlight may be just what the town needs.”

“Ha! I think you may be right.” Carwyn sat back, and an unexpected peace stole over him. “Thank you, Hugh.”

“You’re welcome. But don’t think in a million years I’m going to be the one to write to Sister Maggie. I don’t like you that much.”

“Coward.”

Dublin, Ireland

May 2011

The very proper secretary smiled at him and lifted a hand to her earpiece. Then she looked up at Carwyn, who waited in the small sitting area of Murphy’s Dublin office. He had not been waiting long.

“Murphy will see you now.” She rose and showed him to the door.

Carwyn stood and followed her. “Are you Angie?”

Her eyes smiled. “I am.”

“Brigid speaks very highly of you.”

“Oh!” Angie’s face glowed. “Have you seen her? I wasn’t sure. Is she doing well? Those boys don’t tell me anything.”

‘Those boys’ were—Carwyn suspected—at least a hundred years older than the human secretary, judging from the level of energy he’d detected when they’d met him in the hall. His visit to Murphy’s office had not been expected and the vampire’s security had reacted predictably.

“She’s doing very well, last I saw her. And I’ll see her again soon. Shall I pass along a greeting?”

“Yes, please do. I understand she’s planning to come back to work in January. God knows I’m grateful.” She waved a hand around the office and opened Murphy’s door. “Pains in the arse, every last one of them.”

Murphy met them at the door and leaned down to brush a kiss along Angie’s cheek. “You know you love us, Ange.”

“You’re the worst one.”

Murphy’s eyes danced looking at her. He allowed his amusement to drift over to Carwyn. “The adoring respect my staff offers me is its own reward for my labor.” He stuck his hand out and Carwyn shook it as he was ushered into the room. “Carwyn, it’s good to see you. I understand you’ve been traveling.”

“I have.” He sat across from the water vampire in the luxurious modern office building. Shutters had been drawn back and the black span of the river, lit by the twinkling lights of the new Docklands developments, spread out behind the vampire’s desk. Murphy’s empire. Ships. Real estate. Business and trade. He suspected the old gambler reveled in playing the humans of Dublin as he had his marks in mortal life.

“So, what brings you to Dublin?”

“Just wanted to check in on the investigation.” Tension immediately descended on the office. Neither vampire had forgotten that it was immortals in Murphy’s city, unmonitored and hostile, who had taken and killed Carwyn’s son. And Brigid seemed to think that Murphy and his people were overlooking a local connection. Carwyn hated to be suspicious, but a thousand years had honed his instincts. And his instincts told him that Brigid was seeing something no one else did. Speaking of Brigid… “Brigid also asked me to keep her updated when we spoke last.”

Brigid’s name and smug satisfaction chased the tension from Murphy’s face. “No need for that. I saw her last week. I’ve kept her informed about our progress.”

Carwyn smothered the growl that threatened his throat. “Oh?”

“I was in Edinburgh for some business and ran into Cathy. I called on Brigid the next night. She’s looking phenomenal. I’m looking forward to having her back.”

Don’t kill the water vampire, Carwyn. You don’t want to run Dublin. Besides, technically, Murphy is an ally.

“I don’t find that surprising in the least. She’s a very attractive asset. Did you see her work with fire at all?”

“Sadly, no.”

Carwyn smiled. “Unfortunate. She’s breathtaking when she’s training. All that tightly coiled control released. Careful you don’t get too close, though.” Carwyn rubbed his chest. “She stings.”
And I crush.

Murphy’s eyes narrowed. “How can I help you, Father?”

“I want to know if you’ve made any headway with the local connection. Brigid seemed very certain there was a vampire other than Lorenzo involved in Ioan’s death.”

“I know her theories, though I’m not sure what she’s basing them on. Our own investigation is ongoing.”

“The party she went to that Lorenzo hosted. She went with a friend of hers, didn’t she?”

“Yes, not her normal scene, but her friend was—
is
—seeing a vampire socially.”

His instincts triggered. “Who?”

Murphy shook his head. “Something of a local. He’s Scandinavian. Not very old. And not very smart. Hardly someone Lorenzo would depend on. We’ve looked into him, but we don’t think he’s worth pursuing.”

“What’s his name?”

The water vampire narrowed his eyes. “We’ve looked into him. Not a likely suspect.”

Carwyn shifted in his seat. He’d only ask one more time before things became… interesting. “His
name
, Murphy.”

The two vampires measured each other. Murphy had people. People surrounding him who were loyal. He was strong and ambitious. But his few hundred years were nothing compared to Carwyn’s strength. Or his vast network of family connections. If Carwyn wanted to rule Ireland, it wouldn’t be much of a fight. He could take Murphy out with one battle and a few well-timed telephone calls. He may not even need the battle.

And Patrick Murphy knew it.

“His name is Axel Anderson,” he finally said. “False, I’m sure, but that’s what he goes by. No idea who his sire is. He’s lived in Dublin for around twenty years. Does a little shipping. Has traded in some recreational drugs like Ecstasy and marijuana, but I put a stop to that after I found out he was the one supplying Brigid in college. She doesn’t know that, by the way. I’d like your discretion. The vampire is dating one of the few friends she has in town, and I’d hate to see her lose that.”

That information was going to piss Brigid off royally when he told her, which he had every intention of doing. “We’ll see,” he said as he rose. The other vampire stepped out from behind the desk. Carwyn said, “I want to be kept informed. Send messages by way of Deirdre if I’m out of town. Things are a bit unpredictable for me right now, but I’ll be around more.”

Murphy did not look pleased. “The Father has left his flock? I thought you liked your quiet mountains, Carwyn.”

He shrugged, and a slight smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I like all sorts of things. And I protect what’s important to me.” He stepped a bit closer. “Don’t make the mistake of forgetting that.”

Murphy’s face was blank. “I don’t forget much.”

“Good.” Carwyn thought for a moment, weighing the intrinsic value of information against the possible threat against innocent mortals and immortals under Murphy’s aegis and territory. The innocents won. “There’s another drug you should be aware of. Something that may have just resurfaced. I’m still gathering information, but it’s targeted at immortals.”

Murphy said, “A drug for vampires? Careful, Father, things like that are what urban legends are made of.”

He snorted. “Like I said, I’m still getting information. I’m working with Giovanni Vecchio and his wife on the research. I’m sure you know their reputations.”

The mention of the famed fire vampire and scholar halted the amusement on Murphy’s face. “Of course.”

“I’ll keep you updated, particularly since it seems to be related to Ioan’s death. In the meantime, if you see any immortals who are acting out of character… seem to have increased strength or aren’t feeding as much, let me know.”

Murphy gave a slow nod. “You can be sure of it.”

Carwyn walked toward the door and turned. “So Brigid still wants to work for you?”

“January. She’ll be coming back in the new year.”

He cocked an eyebrow at Murphy. “You’re a lucky…”
boy
. “…employer, Murphy. To have her on your team.”

“I know it.”

Carwyn smirked before he strode out the door. “Just don’t forget it.”

Chapter Eighteen

Scotland

June 2011

Brigid held her hand up, a single flame hovering over one finger, as she sang in the misty night. Madoc watched with disapproving brown eyes.

“Happy death day to me, happy death day to me, happy death day, dear Brigid… happy death day to me.” She stared at the single flame for another minute before blowing it out and turning to the wolfhound. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s an odd kind of thing to celebrate.” She stood and brushed the grass from her leggings. Brigid had been at a bit of a loss for what to do to mark the one-year anniversary of her new life. A life, she had to admit, she grew to like more and more as her control grew. Cathy and Max were in Edinburgh. Anne was still out of the country. Tavish was the only one who acknowledged the date at all.