“Well, she’d have to be. Who else would put up with you? She must not know any better. And does she love you, too?”
“Yes.” He grinned. “Won’t admit it, though.”
Sister Maggie snorted. “Arrogant man. Typical. Have you made your intentions known to her? Does she know what you want?”
He frowned. “She’s bothered by the collar.”
“Well, that just makes her a good Catholic. Nothing wrong with that. You’ve told her that you’re leaving the priesthood, of course.” Maggie stood and took the empty bottles as she began to tidy the kitchen. “It might still be a bit awkward for her, but if she’s accustomed herself to drinking blood to survive, loving an ex-priest won’t be that much more difficult.”
Carwyn squirmed in his seat. “I… I didn’t tell her I was leaving the Church.”
A pan clattered in the sink as Maggie whirled around. “Why not?”
“I wanted… well, I wanted her to accept me as I am. Collar or not. She knows I was married before.”
Maggie’s mouth gaped. “Men are idiots no matter how old they are!”
“And I asked her to marry me.”
Maggie walked to the icebox, took out two more beers, opened them, and sat across from him. “I think you’d better start at the beginning, Father.”
Gemma frowned, a tiny line marring the delicate pale skin between her groomed brows. “So… you took her to Max’s, then left her there for a year. Returned. Declared your love for her within weeks… left again, then showed up three months after she’d asked you to. Upon meeting her again, you physically assaulted her employer—Terry’s going to enjoy that story, by the way—stormed out of the room, then asked her to marry you. Do I have the facts correct?”
Carwyn thought. It sounded so much worse when his daughter said it. “Yes.”
“I’d laugh, except I feel rather sorry for Brigid.”
“I’m starting to feel sorry for her as well. Think I should drop the whole thing?”
“Not unless you want me to kill you myself.”
They were walking through the dark streets of London while Carwyn and Gemma updated each other on family news. Since Ioan’s death, Gemma was the oldest of his children, and as she was also one of the ruling vampires of London, it was important to keep her informed.
Gemma fluttered a hand. “I have no doubt that she would have shoved you off if she wasn’t interested, so I can only assume that she returns your affections. As well as liking the young woman, she’s extraordinarily bright, a fire vampire who’ll be less volatile than Cathy, and has direct loyalty to our clan through Deirdre and soon, you. She’s an excellent choice, Father. Will you be basing yourself in Dublin? I’d try to move you both to London, but I have a feeling Murphy is going to need the help, and he’s an ally.”
He tucked the mention of Murphy away with a mental note to ask her later. Trust Gemma to put the most pragmatic spin on the situation. “I love her, as well,” he said. “There is that.”
Her face softened into a smile, and she tucked her arm into his. “I can tell. You look very happy and very frustrated at the same time. Obviously a man in love.”
“I have a rather uncertain future at the moment. I need to go to Rome, help Gio and B figure out this mess with his father’s books, speak to a cardinal, and try to convince Brigid to marry me.” He frowned. “I need a clone, actually, so I can be in two places at once.”
“Or a minion. I’m very fond of my minions for that reason.”
He had to smile. Gemma may have put on a hard front, but it wasn’t one of her numerous employees walking through the seedy neighborhood late at night scoping out buildings for another shelter.
Carwyn said, “I love you, Gem. You’re a grand friend and a wonderful daughter.”
“I’m your best daughter, and you know it. But I promise not to tell the others you said so. I am surprised about Brigid, though. She’s far too sensible for you. I remember seeing her when she was first working for Murphy. So bright. I was hoping she’d choose immortality like a good girl. She was too valuable to waste on one lifetime. How ever did you persuade her to fall in love with you?”
“I’m not entirely sure I have yet, to be quite honest.”
“Well good. A woman deserves to be courted. It’s your job to convince her.”
“Courted?” It was an old-fashioned concept, but he liked it. He’d consider it his own personal campaign to prove to Brigid why she should marry him.
“Of course, courted. You’re rather rusty at this, aren’t you?”
“My last marriage was arranged. Courting never happened. But I’ll keep it in mind, my wise daughter. Now, tell me what you meant by Murphy needing the help. I may not like him personally, but I have a vested interest in that city remaining stable.”
She shook her head and a keen edge came to her eyes. “He’s keeping it quiet, but there’ve been problems. Some of the same problems we’re dealing with here. More vampires than usual showing up in town, then moving out quickly without notice. A surge in minor criminal activity—drugs and such.” She looked around and lowered her voice even more, despite their location. They were the only people he could see on the street. “All this is from our own sources in Dublin, but they’re reliable. There have been challenges.”
“Challenges?” If Murphy’s leadership had been challenged, that meant Brigid might be walking into a minefield working for him.
“It started out rather casually in his club. Just some boys from out of town who made trouble, then left.” The buildings seemed to loom over them as Gemma continued speaking. “Did you know Murphy was a Traveler as a human? He doesn’t speak of it much, but he’s kept a close relationship with the gypsies, and one of the groups near Dublin—one he has family ties to—was attacked. Their caravans burned. They never discovered who did it, and it made him lose face with them. He’s been slowly consolidating his allies. Visiting the MacGregors in Edinburgh, meeting with Terry more. He’s being very smart about it, but I’m glad he has Brigid there. Having a fire vampire from Ioan and Deirdre’s clan among his people is sure to smooth some channels and instill fear at the same time.”
“I’m beginning to like that man less and less. And I don’t like Brigid working for him.”
“She can take care of herself. She’s Deirdre’s daughter, and Cathy trained her. Murphy will put her to good use.”
Carwyn looked around, his senses alerting him to something nearing. There was an energy signature that was weak, but growing. They might have just been approaching a building with numerous humans occupying it, or the energy could be coming from a few immortals. With the hum of electricity that surrounded him in cities, it was hard to tell. Gemma was still talking.
“Terry would do the same. And that’s part of the reason he didn’t use his connection to Deirdre to try to woo the girl to London. We want Murphy stable there. In fact, all our allies need—”
“Gemma, there’s someone here.” He was sure of it now. Four immortals approaching. One from the air. Three on the ground.
She halted immediately, the proper young woman disappeared and the killer opened her eyes with a feral smile. “Excellent. It’s been months since I’ve had that kind of fun.”
His eyes skimmed the deserted street. No water nearby. The ground was covered in concrete. Unless there was a fire immortal approaching, the only one with an elemental advantage was the wind immortal. Gemma stood still, small and delicate in the glow of the streetlamp.
Carwyn chuckled under his breath. Looks could be so deceiving.
In a blink, she turned her head to the side and was gone, leaping onto a narrow balcony like a cat, then waited crouched as Carwyn leaned against the corner of a building and watched.
The wind vampire came first. Foolishly low, he didn’t even realize that he was dead until Gemma sprang on his back, knocking him to the ground. With a quick twist and a wet rip, his blood was spilling over the dirty street as she tossed his head to the side.
&
nbsp; “Stranger, I hope?” Carwyn asked in whisper.
“A troublemaker. I recognized his scent. That’s why he’s dead first. Stupid man.”
She recognized his scent? Carwyn frowned. What was going on in London?
Before he could ask, the dead vampire’s friends caught up with him. They sped around the corner, obviously expecting their friend to have corralled their prey, only to slip on the wide pool of blood spilled next to his body.
Gemma hissed and Carwyn spared no time, barreling into two of them with his arms held out. He grasped both by the neck and knocked their heads together, more for his own amusement than anything else.
“Stop playing, Father!”
He grinned and shook the two dazed vampires, who he was fairly certain, belonged to water. “Why? I need the exercise.”
Gemma snorted as she batted away the remaining vampire who charged her. “No, you don’t.”
“Are we keeping any alive?” One managed to kick Carwyn’s knee while he held them both by the neck. Cheeky.
“Maybe just one to question. Which should we choose?”
Gemma’s attacker ran toward her again, but she grabbed him around the neck and head-butted him before she tucked him under her arm and waited.
“Why don’t we see which one is smartest?”
She shot him a smile. “Excellent idea!”
Carwyn tossed the two kicking vampires into a pile in the center of the street, not far from the growing pool of the wind vampire’s blood. Gemma tossed hers as well. Then, they both waited while the three rose to their feet.
Two knelt into a crouch, baring their fangs as Carwyn and Gemma watched. The third vampire rose behind his friends, scanned Gemma first, then Carwyn… then proceeded to turn tail and run as quickly as he could down the dark street.
“Smart one,” Carwyn and Gemma said together.
“Catch the runner,” he said. “I’ll take care of these two.”
Gemma shot off without a word and Carwyn was left with the idiots. His fangs fell in delight. “Hello, boys.”
They grunted, snarling in what someone probably told them was a menacing way. Not very smart, these two. The most dangerous vampires he’d ever encountered usually looked the most harmless. Like Gemma.
Carwyn smirked. “Compensating much?”
The snarls turned into sneers, and one leapt. With one hand, Carwyn caught him and threw him into a wall, where he crumpled to the ground. The other pulled out a gun.
“Really?” Carwyn groaned. “Well, that’s just unimaginative.” In a blink, he’d rushed the vampire. He grabbed the gun and twisted it out of the other man’s hand. “Particularly when these”—with one strong hand, he slowly squeezed—“don’t do much to me.” The semiautomatic bent as if it was made of tinfoil. With three quick squeezes, the gun was balled up in Carwyn’s hands and the vampire’s teeth retracted in his mouth.
Carwyn winced. “Embarrassing when that happens, isn’t it?” The vampire lifted his eyes to his in terror, just as the other leapt onto him from behind and sunk a knife into his shoulder. Carwyn reached over, plucked the immortal off his back, twisted his head off, and dropped the body on the street. Then his smile fell, he grabbed the knife out of his back and sliced at the staring vampire’s neck as his blood spurted out.
In two quick slashes, it was all over.
Three bodies lay at his feet. The blood, he knew, would burn away at dawn, but he didn’t want to chance some poor fool stumbling over the remains. Gemma would have taken the survivor off to Terry’s already.
Carwyn stared at the ground and scowled. “Typical children. I always have to clean up the messes.”
He decided it was amusing to watch Terry fuss over Gemma. The vampire paced the room, yelling at Gemma at the top of his lungs with some of the most inventive swearing Carwyn had heard in some time.
“—bloody, mule-headed woman, Gem! When I tell you to take guards, fucking take guards. These bastards owe me their fucking loyalty for a reason and if I tell them to hold your fucking handbag and paint your toenails, they’ll bloody do it!” He spun at the guard who was standing silently by the door. “If any of you ever paint her toenails, I’ll fucking kill you.”
“Yes, boss,” he murmured before Terry started pacing again, running a frustrated hand over his close-cropped buzz cut.
Gemma’s fiancé, who was considerably younger than his daughter, was a handsome man in a rough, lantern-jawed way. A bruiser in his human years, the water vampire still carried the look of the streets about him, but had one of the keenest strategic minds Carwyn had ever met. He also had more than enough confidence in Gemma, which meant that this fussing meant Terry was genuinely worried.
That worried Carwyn.
“All of you bastards get the fuck out,” Terry said. “And Roger?”
Terry’s lieutenant stepped forward. “Yes, boss?”
“Get that slimy French bastard ready for me to question and send another team to the docks. Carwyn, you’re sure they were water?”
“Fairly safe bet.”
“I’m still here, you know.” Gemma rolled her eyes. “Feel free to ask me, as well. I know I’m not a big strapping man, but I might just stumble through it.”
Terry glared at her and pointed at the door. All his men left in a blur. Then Terry rushed to Gemma, pulled her up, and landed a furious kiss on her mouth. Carwyn smiled when he saw Gemma’s knees buckle, ever so slightly. Then Terry’s angry kiss turned into something far more tender, and he cradled his mate’s head in his hands and whispered into her ear.
“You scared me, luv. I don’t appreciate being scared. See to that, will you? Take the guards.”
Gemma spoke quietly. “I was never in any danger, Terry. Especially with Father there.”
Terry turned to him and gave him a piercing stare. He pulled Gemma onto his knee while he sat across from Carwyn on the couch.
“Ever since that Italian friend of yours was here last year, there’ve been problems. I’m not withdrawing my support. Giovanni Vecchio is a good ally to have, but this business with finding some old books is not just about bloody books.”
Carwyn said, “That seems to be the consensus, yes.”
“Something’s stirring, Father. Something much bigger than a personal quest about an old library. I’ve talked to Murphy. Been in contact with Jean Desmarais on the French coast. Been speaking with Leanor in Spain, too. Things are happening. All my allies—those with serious power—are being felt out. Like someone’s out there is taking jabs to see who squeals the quickest. Nothing big, just little things. Annoyances, if they weren’t all happening at the same time.”
“You think it’s coordinated?”
“Yes, I do. And whoever is behind it is testing for weaknesses.”
Carwyn paused and thought. “To what end?”
Gemma shrugged. “We’re not sure yet, but if there is some sort of power shift like what happened in the eighteenth century, we need to be prepared. And maybe more interesting is who is not being tested. Germany is quiet. As are most of the Scandinavian countries. Russia? Well, it’s always hard to know, but no reports so far. North Africa is surprisingly steady. Northern France and the Low Countries are peaceful, though with their tendency toward neutrality, that’s hardly surprising.”
A suspicion tickled the back of his mind. There had been one very notable exception. “And Rome? What about Rome?”
Terry growled and his fangs descended. “Silent as a bloody tomb.”
London
April 27, 2012
Dear Brigid,
I love you.
Just thought I’d mention that. I’m going to Rome tomorrow. Well, actually, I’m going to Le Havre, where I will catch a ride on a freighter to Genoa, and then I will go to Rome. I hope the food is tolerable. I’m going to help Gio and Beatrice. I’ve told you about them, haven’t I? Gio’s one of my oldest friends. The fire vampire. Nice chap. Rather stuffy in a very Italian, academic way. His wife’s a dear friend and far
more fun. They’ve stumbled across something. And I think it’s something bad. The book I was talking about before. I think it may all be a thing together, Brigid. Ioan’s death. The book. The drugs.
I hate being away from you. It’s harder than I expected.
Take care of yourself. This is bigger than us. Bigger than my friends. There’s a pattern to the threats. Watch out for small things. Things that seem minor, because they might not be. I don’t know how much you should tell Murphy, but if there’s danger, go to Deirdre. If Ireland’s not safe, go to Max and Tavish. I know you’re capable, but this is different than an open challenge. Dublin may not know how to handle it. Be smart. If it comes down to it, trust family and yourself. No one else.
And be careful, Brigid. You’re holding my heart.
Carwyn
P.S. Don’t go out with Murphy.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dublin
May 2012
Brigid sipped her tea and read the letter from Carwyn.
And be careful, Brigid. You’re holding my heart.
Among the grating routine of her nights, the sentiment of his words melted her.
P.S. Don’t go out with Murphy.
She narrowed her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, the idiotic—”
“Not talking about me, are you?” She glanced up at her boss, who was standing next to her in the café in the lobby of the building. A smile flirted around his mouth and she caught him trying to glance at the note in her hands. She quickly tucked it away.
“Not you. What’s the story tonight?”
“Declan and Jack are out at that club you tipped them off about. Tom’s in the office with Sara. Taking a quick break?”
“Just for a few. Did they see my note about the girl?”
“I believe so.”
“She was a bartender at Riot until January, then she disappeared. She’d given me quite a bit of information before I… went to Scotland, so I was checking up on her. Went by her apartment, her friends’ places. Some of them mentioned The Abby, so I thought it might be a new place.”