Could he? She ignored the thump of her heart, wishing Tavish couldn’t hear it. If he did, he ignored her. “Carwyn’s a priest. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You’re such a Catholic.”
“And you’re such a Presbyterian. What does it matter?”
“He was married before.”
“And hasn’t been married since.”
He shook his head. “Well, maybe he just hasn’t found his match yet.”
“In a thousand years?”
Tavish shrugged and slapped the side of the cow he’d been standing near. The giant animal lumbered off. “Some bulls are very, very stupid. You have to put the female right in front of them and just hope they figure it out.”
“Please, let’s not continue this comparison any longer. Please.”
“And by ‘bull,’ I mean—”
“I get it, Tavish!”
He nodded and pulled on her arm. “Good. Now, enough of this girlish chitchat. Let’s get the sheep in. You’re getting better with the commands. Almost as good as Rufus.”
Almost as good as the dog? With Tavish, that was as effusive as it got.
The next night, she was staring at the ceiling. She’d found a poster in the back of one of the spare room closets. A sunrise over the ocean. It was tucked behind a pile of coats and blankets, as if the sunny reminder had been retired with the out-of-season clothes. She’d stolen some tape from the kitchen and somehow attached it to the ceiling, the bored wolfhound cocking his head as he watched her.
Well, it wasn’t as good as the real thing, but maybe it would make her feel a bit better about the endless night. Wasn’t there some depression you could get from not enough sun? How did vampires combat that? She’d have to remember to ask Anne. She sure as hell didn’t need any more depression.
“Brigid!” Tavish’s shout came from the hall a moment before he pounded on the door. “You’ve a package. Eat something, then come help me with the sheep.”
She opened the door, but he’d already left. A small package lay on the floor in front of her room. Deirdre? Anne? She picked it up and looked at the return address.
Chile, S.A.
She spun and slammed the door shut, immediately forgetting about both the blood she hungered for and the wandering sheep. Madoc whined in excitement and sniffed the package, as if he could smell the traces of his master in the brown paper she tore from the small box. Inside was a simple white envelope and red box with Spanish writing she couldn’t decipher. She opened the envelope, and tears welled at the corner of her eyes as she read:
‘Just in case you miss the sun.’
She swallowed the lump in her throat and opened the box. Nestled under tissue paper was a mass of bright colors. Red, blue, green, yellow, purple. She pulled the silk scarf from the box and held it against her cheek.
It was soft and silly. Flamboyant. She could see him picking it out with a mischievous grin on his face or a laugh.
Brigid would never wear something so frivolous. She wore dark colors. Sensible fabrics. If he had been in the room, she probably would have rolled her eyes as he teased her.
But Carwyn was nowhere in sight, so she wound the scarf around her neck and lifted the ends to cover her eyes. Then Brigid lay back on the bed, opened her eyes, and looked into the brilliant blooming night.
Chapter Seventeen
The Atlantic Ocean
May 2011
Carwyn stretched out as much as he could on the small bed as he crossed the Atlantic, wondering why, exactly, his children had decided to live in such inconvenient places. As much as he traveled, he still hated it every time. Unless he could tunnel under the earth as God intended earth vampires to do, travel was something he only ever put up with.
Air vampires could fly once they had grown old enough; one hundred years or so was common. Water vampires, obviously, were comfortable crossing even vast oceans with their elemental strength. Fire vampires could bully their way into any passage they preferred, as long as it didn’t involve too much electricity.
But earth vampires, being the most domestic of the four elements, tended to stay near their homes in remote places. When they had to travel, large sun-shielded vessels like the freighter were their best option. This one belonged to his son-in-law in London, Gemma’s husband, a water vampire who did large amounts of trade between Europe and the Americas. Terrance Ramsay—eager to take advantage of his wife’s connections—happily loaned Carwyn any room he asked for. Terry’s generosity allowed Carwyn the opportunity to travel wherever he needed, though he would never enjoy being on the water.
It was the most vulnerable position for any earth vampire. Surrounded by vast amounts of water, Carwyn was still strong, but his amnis was dampened. Still, it was the only option, and he needed to get back to Britain. For… lots of reasons.
“It is not a sin to want someone to walk through eternity by your side.”
“It is if you’re a priest!”
“Do you really believe that?”
His conversation with Isabel had haunted his thoughts for months. He tried to distract himself in the notes he had taken from Beatrice. She had made notes about the effect of Geber’s elixir of life, the ancient formula that sounded more and more like the drug Ioan may have been thinking of. The more he learned of it, the more his suspicions grew.
‘Human subjects who had taken the elixir—most on the verge of death—showed improvement within hours of taking it. Their color and appetite returned within days. In the single vampire trial, the immortal subject who drank from an elixired human showed evidence of increased strength, a surge of elemental ability, and no evidence of further hunger for human or animal blood. In the year of observation, the only negative side effect seemed to be a slight increase in necessary sleep.’
Increased strength. Stronger amnis. No bloodlust.
Was it possible?
It seemed more like the performance-enhancing drugs that professional athletes used than the oblivion-producing drugs that humans favored. And while oblivion was actually something that many immortals craved after hundreds or thousands of years, his kind lived in a dangerous world. A world fueled by webs of alliances and power. A world where the strongest and richest really did survive the longest. This elixir—if it did what it promised—would be very, very attractive to those seeking power and control.
Carwyn had always steered clear of politics. He took care of his own; that was all he wanted. And though he had always been a man of God, he was the head of his clan, as well. His singular desire in increasing his strength and guarding his reputation was to protect those who belonged to him.
Carwyn closed his eyes and thought. A vampire drug. It had been exactly what Ioan had feared, a drug added to human blood that could affect vampires. But this drug wouldn’t weaken the immortals who drank it. In fact, it would seem like a miracle. Health for the human. Strength for the vampire. What was the downside?
There was always a downside.
Cardiff, Wales
May 2011
“Hugh?”
Carwyn poked his head through the old priest’s door. The old man was sitting curled over his writing desk, his simple black pants and neatly pressed shirt showing signs of both wear and age.
“Hugh,” Carwyn called again and stepped forward. The old man finally looked toward the door, and his eyes lit up.
“Father Carwyn!” he called, reaching up to switch on the hearing aid that had, apparently, been turned off. “I have to say that the benefits of hearing loss far outweigh the negatives when one is trying to finish writing letters. Why, just a quick switch of the batteries and I am plunged into a most pleasant silence, the likes of which not even Father Simon can disturb with his chattering.”
Father Hugh stood and ambled over to the hulking immortal. He wrapped spindly arms around Carwyn’s shoulders as they embraced.
Carwyn said, “It’s good to see you, my friend.”
“I think it may be one of the last times,” the priest
said with cheer. “I feel my homecoming may be soon.”
The vampire smiled. “Now, Hugh. I think that’s a bit hard to—”
“No, no.” Hugh waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t spoil my excitement. I’m quite ready to exchange the earthly body for the celestial one, thank you. My walks around the garden are getting shorter and shorter, and I can hardly taste food anymore. It’s about time.” Father Hugh patted Carwyn’s shoulder and led them toward the low chairs that surrounded the fire in the sitting room.
“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 C
arwyn. “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.