Building From Ashes (5 page)

“Hey.”

He grinned. “I thought you didn’t dance!”

Brigid laughed. “I didn’t. But I do now.”

He placed his hands on her hips and swayed with her. She had been right; they were warm. Inviting. She threw her head back and moved to the beat as Mark pressed closer. For the first time in her life, a man’s touch brought neither panic nor disgust. She was relaxed. Fluid. His fingers trailed up her spine. It didn’t bring a rush of fear or a racing heart. The contact felt natural. Incredible.

Brigid let her arms fall over his shoulders. When she met his eyes, she realized what she’d been missing. He was wonderful. This was right. And when his mouth met hers, time seemed to spin out in one long fluid sigh. They moved together, body and breath, and the music and the crowd embraced her.

Chapter Three

Wicklow Mountains, Ireland

May 2005

“So, Paddy and Mick—”

“This is the last joke or you can carve a new room into this mountain and sleep in the dirt, Ioan.”

His oldest son grinned and pulled his wife into his lap as Carwyn laughed. “No, my love, you’ll like this one. So Paddy and Mick are driving to Cork City, and they need to answer the call of nature. They pull to the side of the road and go into the bushes—”

“A piss joke?” Deirdre rolled her eyes and tried to stand, but Ioan pinched her lips together as Carwyn took another drink of his beer.

“They both start pissin’ and Mick looks over to Paddy. ‘Paddy,’ he says, ‘I wish I was as well-hung as you are, my friend. I can see that you’re using four fingers to hold yerself.’ And Paddy says to Mick, ‘Ah, Mick, yer fine, lad. And I see you’re using four as well.’ And Mick says, ‘Aye, Paddy, but I’m pissin’ on three of ’em.’”

Carwyn and Ioan both burst into laughter as Deirdre snorted. Ioan patted her bottom and held her trapped in his lap. “See, my love, aren’t you happy that you married a Welshman?”

“I’m currently feeling the need to visit Gemma in London.”

Carwyn hooted. “Ioan, if she’s willing to subject herself to shopping with Gemma, you’d better learn some manners.”

“I need a long vacation from my own husband.”

“She would never…” Ioan tugged at a lock of Deirdre’s long red hair and pulled her face down to his. He pursed his lips for a kiss, but she only sneered at him. Undeterred, he chuckled and kissed along her neck, slowly inching his way toward her mouth. “See?” he said between kisses. “She loves me madly.”

Deirdre said, “No, I don’t.”

“Couldn’t live without me.”

“Obnoxious Welshman.”

Carwyn shook his head. “When does the newlywed stage wear off? You’ve been married for four hundred years.”

Ioan finally managed to press his lips to Deirdre’s; then he grinned in triumph. “Never! We’ll always be as obnoxious as we are now and scare the children.”

“And your sire, as well.”

Ioan just winked at Deirdre and continued to pin her to his lap. “You’re just jealous, Father. Get your own woman.”

“Eh.” He shrugged. “Too much trouble.”

“Carwyn,” Deirdre said, “what about this American girl? You said you’re going to visit her in Los Angeles. No interest at all? She’s just a friend?”

“Who, Beatrice?” Carwyn shook his head. “No. Just a friend. She’s meant for Giovanni.”

“You’d travel that far—in a boat—for a ‘just a friend?’”

Carwyn could see the skeptical looks on the faces of his oldest son and his wife, who were truly more friends than children. “She is. I travel far longer to see Isabel and Gustavo.”

Deirdre frowned. “But they’re family.”

“Who knows?” Carwyn grinned. “Maybe she will be, as well. Gio’s like a brother to me, after all.” He was frustrated with his friend, certain the stubborn fire vampire loved the young American woman, but equally convinced that Giovanni couldn’t see what was standing in front of his face. Beatrice De Novo was no wilting flower. And if the stubborn Giovanni Vecchio didn’t show up and claim her, he doubted the girl would wait long for him. Fool.

Ioan’s eyes lit in understanding. “Is that so? So the pragmatic Dr. Vecchio has finally fallen to a woman’s charms? A human, for that matter?”

Carwyn shrugged again. “You’ll have to ask him. He’s buried himself in books again, crisscrossing the globe and avoiding my letters. But I don’t expect to see him in female company other than Beatrice’s. Put it that way.” Carwyn sighed. “All my bachelor friends seem to be abandoning me. Caspar is happily domesticated in Houston. Giovanni and Beatrice are… whatever they are. I suppose they’ll figure it out.”

Deirdre chuckled. “Poor old man. You really do need to find your own woman, Father.”

Ioan leaned forward, a serious expression crossing his face. “You’ve been alone for a thousand years, Carwyn. Is it the church? Because you know my opinion—”

“I know your opinion. No need to state it again.”

Deirdre said, “When you took your vows, you were a married man. And you were mortal. It was the church that changed. Not you.”

“I changed, as well,” he said quietly.

“Nevertheless,” Ioan said, “you have devoted a thousand years to them. A thousand years to your family and your faith. I’m only saying that if there was anyone who deserved to be happy—”

“And who says I’m not?” Carwyn smiled. “Why is it that married people always think their friends can’t be happy unless they’re shackled as they are? Irritating children, you are. Both of you.”

Ioan turned his face up to Deirdre. “Shackle me, my love.”

Deirdre only rolled her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

“Best torture in the world, to be shackled to a beautiful woman who drives you crazy,” he continued. “Sign me up again. Sign me up for another four hundred years, Father!”

Carwyn cleared his throat. “Well, if the conversation has turned to shackles, I think that’s my cue to retire.”

Ioan laughed, and Deirdre punched her husband’s arm. “Enough, both of you. And, Ioan, Carwyn will do whatever makes him happy. Besides, when has he ever taken our advice about anything?”

“There was that time in the 1780s—”

“Carwyn,” Deirdre interrupted with a laugh, “is your ship leaving out of Dublin or Waterford?”

“Terry has a boat leaving Dublin, going to New York. O’Brian is storing my bike for me, so I’ll drive cross-country from there. I’ll ring you both when I’m in Los Angeles with B. She says she has a safe place for me to stay. Otherwise, I’ll work something out with Alvarez. He owes me, anyway. Why do you ask?”

For once, Deirdre looked unsure. “I was wondering if you’d have time to check on Brigid Connor when you were in town. She’s staying at Parliament House this summer, and I just wanted—”

“Deirdre.” Ioan’s voice was a quiet warning.

“What?” Carwyn saw her temper spike. “Sinead says she thinks something seemed wrong the last time she talked to Brigid. And with her staying in Dublin all summer—”

“She’s going for summer term. She’s very serious about her studies. You two worry too much.”

“This is her first summer away from home.”

Ioan huffed. “She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s twenty!”

Ioan’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh? I had no idea. May I point out, technically, so are you?”

“It’s not the same, and you know it. All my sisters were married by the time they were sixteen. I was a grown woman at twenty when I turned.”

“You’re right. And your childhood was blessedly uneventful. Brigid’s gone through far more than you ever did, Deirdre.”

“Exactly. I have every right to be worried.”

“But not every right to treat her like a child. Have some faith in—”

Carwyn broke into the growing argument. “Why don’t I just meet her for a drink when I’m in town?” Ioan and Deirdre both stopped and looked at him. “I’ll meet her for a drink. No interrogation. I know I don’t know the girl all that well, but I’m happy to say hello and check if anything seems unusual.”

Deirdre smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it. Sinead and I—”

“Worry too much,” Ioan muttered, but he nodded at Carwyn. “Still, good of you to meet her and it’s good to remind Murphy whose aegis she’s under, just in case he’s interested.”

Carwyn chuckled. “Now who’s worrying?”

Ioan said, “Are you joking? You know how much he’d like to form some kind of tie to Deirdre’s and my clan. I can’t blame him; it would be an excellent political move.”

“We don’t have any single daughters,” Deirdre said. “But he knows that Brigid is family.”

“You think Murphy might be interested in Brigid?” Carwyn shrugged. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. As long as she liked him, I suppose.”

It was Deirdre who smiled. “And what woman wants to be desired for her connections? You old men. She deserves to have someone who’s crazy for her. Mad in love. That’s what a woman wants.”

Carwyn turned puppy dog eyes on Deirdre. “And that is why I shall remain the eternal bachelor. For what woman could truly appreciate my stunning good looks?”

“Not again,” Deirdre said.

Ioan nodded. “And your Hawaiian shirt collection.”

“My noble devotion to beer and professional wrestling.”

“And your dogs,” Ioan added. “Don’t forget your dogs.”

Deirdre sighed. “Why do I ever try to have a serious conversation with the two of you?”

Dublin, Ireland

June 2005

Carwyn leaned against the grimy walls of the Ha’Penny Bridge Inn, waiting for Brigid Connor to show. He’d stopped by Parliament House the evening before and left a note with the guards in front telling her to meet him at the old pub near the river. Much of the older part of Dublin had been updated in the previous years, but the Ha’Penny had stayed relatively old-fashioned and didn’t cater to as many tourists as most of the bars in the city center. Though it was only June, the buzz and bustle of the summer crowds were already filling the evening streets, even on a Wednesday night.

He saw her as soon as she turned the corner, but then, she was hard to miss. Brigid Connor had always been a tiny thing, with a stride that warned people off, despite her small frame. She was pale-skinned, with a scattering of freckles dotting her cheeks, and her garishly dyed hair was chopped short and lay in irregular chunks around a pixie face. Her large eyes were the color of amber ale and her chin came to a sharp point under a bow-shaped mouth.

Carwyn thought she looked like an extremely pissed off fairy, which amused him greatly. He grinned when he saw her bark at a boy who approached her. Then his eyebrows lifted when she reached out and took his hand. So, little Brigid had a boyfriend? Her expression as she approached was a mask of studied nonchalance.

He opened his senses to feel for the boy. Though he was in the city, and the earth beneath him was long buried, he could scent the young man, watch the subtle angles of his body language, and listen for his pulse, which was hammering with nerves, instinctively reacting to the presence of the predator he was.
Good
. Brigid’s heartbeat, however, was steady as a low drum. The smell of the river masked their scents as they approached.

She came to a stop in front of him and looked up with a haughty expression. “So, you’re here to check up on me?”

The boy awkwardly looked between Brigid and Carwyn. “Um… Brig—”

“It’s fine, Mark. He’s an old… family friend,” she said with a sneer. “Go ahead and I’ll meet you at the club later.”

“Are you sure?”

Carwyn gave the boy a cheerful smile and held out his hand to shake. The boy grabbed it, and Carwyn let his amnis crawl up to the boy’s mind. As the energy flooded the human’s cerebral cortex, Carwyn spoke to him. “Hello, Mark. Nice to meet you. You’re not going to remember much of me. Now piss off and leave us alone. She’ll meet you later.”

“Okay.”

He could see Brigid roll her eyes, but Mark turned and quickly walked back the way they had come.

“Why did you want to come to this old place? They haven’t hung new curtains since before I was born.” She walked past him and pulled open the door to the pub.

Carwyn looked after her and called, “Lovely to see you, as well, Brigid. I can see that your sunny demeanor has only blossomed in adulthood.”

He walked inside and took the seat opposite her in the old booth. “So, is that your natural hair color, or were you attacked by eggplant-wielding terrorists on the way out of your flat?”

She cocked a haughty eyebrow. “They were protesting at the market, actually. Maybe I should stick to blood like you and Ioan. Might be less dangerous.”

“I’d consider it, if I were you.”

“Do you really watch American professional wrestling? Been meaning to ask you. I don’t believe my aunt. No one actually watches that. It’s idiotic.”

Carwyn grinned. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure yet. The older I get, the stranger you seem.”

He smirked. “Well, that’s not surprising. I am strange. What do you want from the bar?”

“A whiskey, I guess.”

“How about a beer?”

“How about a whiskey?”

He stood. “Guinness it is, then.”

“Hey!” She called out, but he ignored her. The girl certainly had the same acid tongue that he remembered from her childhood. To tell the truth, he’d never known her well. Like most of Ioan and Deirdre’s humans, he kept his distance. Though they remained close with their human clan, he was more circumspect in his mortal connections. He supposed that, after a thousand years, it was easier to remain unattached.

Still, there was always something about the girl that had amused him. He glanced over his shoulder as the barmen built their pints. Brigid stood slumped in her seat, the very picture of adolescent rebellion. She was smart. That had always interested him. And he loved that she threw Deirdre off balance. His redheaded daughter had always been the most stubborn in their family, taking after his oldest daughter Gemma more than anyone else. Carwyn had a feeling that Brigid and Gemma would get on just fine.