Building From Ashes (7 page)

Carwyn smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead as the rainbow pyrotechnics flashed in the distance. “Well, I’m glad one of us does.”

Chapter Four

Dublin, Ireland

July 2005

Brigid sat stoically in the antiseptic air of the doctor’s office, only half-listening to the understanding voice of the physician.

“So, the combination of the MDMA, or Ecstasy, along with the intermittent heroin use was creating in your brain the false feeling of contentment and depressing your symptoms of social anxiety through manipulation of serotonin levels. Though the short-term benefits of the drugs would mimic prescription medications for the disorder, long term use…”

Blah.

Blah.

Blah.

The grey-haired physician droned on. She finally lifted her eyes to Ioan’s as he sat watching from across the small exam room. He was furious. Disappointed. But the emotion that pierced her heart, the one that had convinced her to follow him to the grey building in the city suburbs, was fear.

Her protector couldn’t be afraid. He was too strong. Too sure.

Brigid could never think of Ioan as a father. She had no father, and even the hint of one was enough to make her stomach churn. Ioan was the older brother she’d always wished for. The one who would defend her. And her protector was staring at her with dark, fearful eyes.

Brigid blinked back tears and looked away.

Ioan interrupted softly, “Dr. McTierney, I think that’s enough. Thank you. Brigid’s health appears normal?”

“Brigid?” The doctor spoke to her softly, his tone asking permission. She just shrugged, and the doctor turned back to Ioan. “All her blood tests came back normal except for the drugs in her system. The levels match the use she described in her interview.”

The doctor sat down on the chair across from her. Brigid curled into herself and stared at his hands and the small, dark hairs that sprinkled the back of them. Thick veins crossed the top of hands that he folded in studied, professional concern. “Brigid, I’m a physician, but I am familiar with social anxiety and depression. There are prescription medications that can help you. Your symptoms and history are classic—”

“Piss off and leave me alone.” Her voice was soft, but clear. She had nothing to say to the human. She wanted to be left alone.

“Brenden, if you could give us some privacy, I’d appreciate it.”

The doctor rose and shook Ioan’s hand before he left the small examination room, leaving Brigid and Ioan alone. Ioan often worked in the city doing clinics for the underprivileged. The doctor was a friend who helped and had agreed to perform the lab work confidentially during hours that Ioan could accompany her. She could hear Ioan heave a deep sigh, and she closed her eyes.

“Christ, Brigid, when I think how bad this could have been—”

“Are you going to make me quit school?”

She was still doing well in school. After her first experience at the club, she researched Ecstasy. Illegal drugs weren’t something she had ever considered taking, but the effects of the MDMA had been so soothing she had to learn more. She paced herself. She was careful to only use them in social situations, and never too often. And when the MDMA had stopped being quite as effective, a small dose of heroin did the trick. Never too much. She was still in control.

That’s what she told herself.

And if her use toward the end of term had increased, that was just because of stress, wasn’t it? Her grades had slipped a little, but not enough that it had affected her standing with the university. But if Ioan made her stop taking classes—

“Of course you’re quitting school, you idiot! You’re quitting school. You’re quitting your friends in town. Most importantly, you’re quitting drugs. Enough, Brigid. We’re lucky to catch this after only a few months. You’re entering a program and you’re—”

Her head shot up. “I’m not going to any fecking rehab.”

“Yes, you are.” He glared at her. “It’s not open for debate. You’re going. You’re getting help for the addictions, and you’re—”

“You can’t force me into one.”

“Oh, yes, I can.”

“You can’t!”

Ioan rose from his seat and stalked toward her. He pulled her up by the collar of her jacket and his voice was a low growl. “You forget yourself, Brigid Connor. Do you forget who I am? Do you forget who Deirdre is? Under piddling Irish law I may not be able to force you into a program, but we’re not talking about Irish law, are we?”

He paused, and she forced herself to look up, despite the burning in her eyes.

“Never forget what it means to be under my aegis, Brigid. I am responsible for you. For your actions. When you risk yourself like this, you risk exposing all of us to the mortal world. You will go to treatment if I have to use amnis to put you there. It is not an option.”

Her defiance crumbled. She knew he was right. Rebellion had never truly been an option. She had known that from the time she was a girl. Her shoulders slumped, and she curled back into her chair. Ioan sat next to her and gently put an arm around her thin shoulders. Ioan had always been one of the few people she could handle being near. The priest had been another one.

“Fecking Carwyn.”

“Don’t blame him. How long do you really think you would have been able to hide this from us?”

“I’ll never be in the
Garda
,” she whispered. “I’ll never be able to pass the psychological evaluations, and I’ll have a history of prescription drug use for social anxiety. I’ll never—”

“Ah, Brig.” He groaned. “Girl, how did you think you were going to pass the drug test? The
Garda
was never going to be an option if you were taking drugs.”

She took a shaky breath and inched closer to him. “I thought… I thought if I just took them long enough. Maybe I could conquer it. I could get better, and I’d be able to be normal.”

“We were wrong, Deirdre and me. Me, most of all. We helped you treat the symptoms, Brig, but we never treated the wound.”

Her heart sped and she pulled away. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I—I don’t want to.” Her heart began to race.

“You have to.”

“No.”

“Brigid, there’s a doctor. One of us. She’s a healer, but one that focuses on the mind.”

She scoffed and stood, crossing her arms across her body. “What? So, you want me to go to a—a vampire shrink or some mad thing?”

“She lives in Galway, and she’s a very old friend of Deirdre’s. Anne is a friend, Brigid. Not an enemy. She specializes in addiction and—”

“I am not an addict!”

“Yes, you are!” he bellowed, rising to his feet. “You were using them every day. You admitted that you couldn’t go out socially without them. That you couldn’t even be with your boyfriend—”

“He told you that?” She stared at the door in horror, wishing she could hunt down the doctor and kill him. And maybe, just maybe put an end to her own humiliation, as well. “How could he—?”

Ioan stepped toward her and raised his hands to her shoulders, but backed away when he saw her flinch. He lowered his voice. “You’re missing the point. And be mad at me. I’m the one who used amnis to make him tell me the details of your interview.”

She gasped in horror. He knew everything? That she used before classes and every night out? That she needed to take a heavy dose in order to be intimate with Mark? Brigid collapsed into the chair again. “How could you? How could you, Ioan? I told him… He said it would be confidential.”

He knelt in front of her. “You scared me to death. I don’t know that I have ever been more frightened. Do you know how dear you are to me? To Deirdre? To your aunt? The thought of you harming yourself
kills
me.”

She sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, she sniffed and rolled her eyes. “You can’t die, stupid.”

He let out a strangled laugh. She finally looked up and for the first time in her life, she saw tears threatening Ioan’s eyes. “You have to get help. You have to, Brigid. For everything. God knows, I’ve tried, but I can’t protect you from yourself.”

She couldn’t seem to move. And the small bag of white powder hidden in the lining of her handbag called to her, promising happiness and peace. She closed her eyes, imagined the easy thrill of the pills, and the deep, pure peace of the heroin. In her mind’s eye, she saw the furious glint in a pair of blue eyes, and a hastily tossed-out command.

“Take care of yourself.”

She’d always taken care of herself. No one else had ever volunteered. From the earliest time she could remember, even before her mother married Richard, she had always taken care of herself. And though her heart fought against it, Brigid knew what she needed to do.

She took a deep breath. “I’ll go.”

Kinvara, Co. Galway

September 2005

The dark night wrapped around her like a blanket, and the sea air carried the scent of salt and seaweed from the south shore of Galway Bay. Brigid stood at the open window and resisted the urge to flee down the small road that led to town. Even if Anne didn’t stop her, where would she go?

Brigid had sweated out the worst of her physical withdrawal in her aunt’s house in Wicklow. She’d wanted to die. Even though she had been careful with her heroin use, her body had come to depend on it far more than she realized. She’d never been as sick as she had those first weeks. At one point, she’d begged Deirdre to kill her. She hadn’t, thankfully, but when Brigid thought about her first “talk” with Anne that she was supposed to have that night, she reconsidered the idea.

“The road or the bay?”

Brigid turned. The silent water vampire had entered the glass-enclosed room behind her and was already sitting in an overstuffed chair.

She couldn’t help but smile. “The road. I’m not a very good swimmer.”

Anne smiled. “Well, definitely don’t take the watery escape route, then.”

Brigid shook her head and moved to the other chair. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The two women, one mortal and one vampire, both stared out the windows that surrounded them. The study was a small room that faced the water. In the morning, the light would stream in, and it was a pleasant place to drink a cup of tea or read a book. At night, the glass-enclosed room was surrounded by stars and the scattered lights that lined the western Irish shore. It was full of bookcases and stacked tables. Deep comfortable chairs and warm, woolen blankets. It didn’t look at all like a doctor’s office, but that’s what it was.

Anne said, “So, a man goes to see a psychologist. ‘Doctor,’ he says, ‘you have to help me. My wife says I’m obsessed with sex.’ The doctor sits down and gets out some ink blots and shows them to the man. ‘What do you see here?’ the doctor asks. ‘A couple on a bed, having sex.’ The doctor nods and shows him another one. ‘And this one?’ ‘A man and a woman on a couch, having sex.’ ‘Interesting,’ the doctor says. ‘And how about this one?’ The man squints and says, ‘That’s a picture of a man and a woman having sex on a boat.’ The doctor finally says, ‘Well, you do have a problem. It appears you’re definitely obsessed with sex.’ The man stands up, outraged. ‘What do you mean
I’m
obsessed with sex?
You’re
the one showing me all the dirty pictures!’”

Despite herself, Brigid snorted.

Anne spoke again. “How are a hooker and a psychiatrist the same?”

Brigid remained silent for a moment, then decided to play along. “How?”

“They both turn to each other after an hour together and say, ‘That’ll be two hundred, please.’”

Brigid fought back another snort. “So, are psychiatrists like lawyers? Lots of jokes about their noble profession?”

“I don’t know. I think my secretary finds them on the internet. I get a new one every night on my desk.”

“And I’m supposed to take this process seriously? Now I’m just going to be imagining you in fishnet stockings, saying, ‘Looking for a good time, big boy?’”

Anne threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, Brigid, it’s nice that you have a sense of humor. Humor is important.”

“Is it now?”

“Yes.” The counselor turned to her with a wide smile. “It’s very important. Truth is important, but so is laughter. Never be afraid to laugh, even when you’re crying. Sometimes the two go together.”

“Well, I’m trying to think of some junkie jokes, but I’m coming up short. Heard any good ones lately?”

Anne settled into her chair, looking back out the windows. “I’m afraid not. Should I have my secretary look tomorrow?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Do you think you were a junkie?”

She started to say “No,” but halted. Did she? “I’m not a junkie, but I was weak.”

“Why do you think you were weak? From what your friends and family say about you, you’re one of the strongest people they’ve ever known.”

“They…” She took a deep breath, and her voice came out like a whisper. “They don’t know me.”

“Does anyone know you?”

Her mind flashed through the faces of her friends. Her family. Ioan. Deirdre. Sinead. Emily. Mark. “Probably not.” The last image was a pair of vivid blue eyes, but she shoved it away.

“Do you want to be known?”

A sick, oily feeling twisted in her gut. Shame. Even after so many years. Shame piled on top of shame, because she was ashamed to even feel the emotion itself. She bit the inside of her lip and muttered, “Probably not.”

“Well, I’d like to know you.”

“Because you want your two hundred in the morning?”

“Of course.” Brigid’s head jerked up, and a smile lifted the corner of Anne’s mouth. “I like strong, interesting people, too. And I think you are. Interesting. And strong. Very strong.”

“I’m not strong. If I was strong, I wouldn’t have had to use drugs.”

Anne paused. “Tell me about your father.”

Brigid slid down into her chair and looked out the windows. “He died when I was five.”