She crawled toward the human remains. The mostly intact shoes marked it as a male. Probably young from the style. She guessed he’d been wearing a jacket, but the blast had ripped it back, melting his keys and wallet into the scorched ribcage, just below his heart.
Brigid crawled away, disgusted, trying to remember what had happened. Trying not to retch.
The club.
Music. Pounding. A dance floor. She’d been looking for someone.
Emily.
Had she followed Emily out to the alley and lost her temper? Brigid didn’t remember. She didn’t remember anything. She hadn’t lost control like that since… not since she had first turned in the library in Wicklow.
Her stomach twisted as she stared at the charred bones. Had she meant to kill the human? Was she defending herself? Who was it?
She looked around at the alley. She needed to find answers. She needed to get to shelter. And—she rubbed hands over her bare arms—she really needed some clothes, as well.
Brigid could feel the rips on her knees closing as she lurched to her feet. She was starving. Clearly, whatever fire had overtaken her had drained her body and her amnis. She needed food. She stumbled toward the back door of the club, hoping she could find clothes inside.
As she walked past the human’s body, a gold glint caught her eye in the streetlight.
She bent down. Melted into the side of the body, under what was left of the man’s back, was a warped glass bottle. The lid was gold and it was made of frosted red glass, like an expensive perfume or lotion. But Brigid was fairly sure that the human wasn’t carrying perfume in his jacket.
Because when she picked it up and brushed the black scorch marks away from the bottle, only one word was etched onto the dirty red glass.
ELIXIR.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Dear Brigid,
It’s silly the things we do, sometimes. Like writing letters no one will ever read.
I’m in a cave in the Caucasus Mountains. It’s midday and Giovanni is sleeping. I might die tomorrow night, and the only thing I can think of is that I wish I’d had time to make love to you once. Just once. To know you that way. To love you. I don’t want to die. I’m greedy, aren’t I? A thousand years isn’t enough.
I wish that I’d had the feel of your skin against mine. To wake next to you at nightfall.
I love you, Brigid.
So, I’ll pray the prayer of a greedy man and ask for another thousand years. Maybe that will be enough.
Part of me wishes I could turn back. Go to you. Hide away and steal those years, but then I wouldn’t be good enough for you. You’ve never run from a fight in your life. Not even when it was against yourself. Have I told you how I admire you? I do.
You’ll never read this letter. And I’ll have faith that God would not have brought us together without a purpose. The hardships in your life have only prepared you for this fight. And I have to believe I will be at your side.
Whatever happens in these mountains, this evil will not end here. It will not end in Rome. Perhaps it will not end. And I must seek the truth to make us safe. That is the only thing keeping me from you, love.
I pray for your safety.
Take care of yourself, Brigid. Until I can.
Carwyn
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dublin
December 2012
Brigid listened as Deirdre sat in Murphy’s office, briefing them about the events in Rome.
“Livia is finished,” she said. “The power in Rome lays in Emil Conti’s hands now.”
“He’s an ally,” Murphy muttered. “Not a strong one, but we’ll cultivate it. And the elixir?”
“The plant in Bulgaria has been shut down. The elixir that has already been produced there has been destroyed. Father assured me of this.”
Declan leaned forward. “That’s all fine, but what of the bottle that Brigid found on the body here in Dublin? Whoever attacked her may have been killed, but they’re not working alone. We’ve had more and more reports of immortals with odd behavior. Vampires leaving town unexpectedly. Humans in our community disappearing. Something is going on. This elixir is here and we still have no idea how to detect humans that have taken it.”
Brigid asked, “This Lucien Thrax, the physician. He’s taken it?”
Deirdre said. “Lorenzo gave him the elixir in Eastern Europe over a year ago. When I left Rome, he was failing, though Carwyn writes that his sire came for him and they think—think—that a sire’s blood will heal an affected vampire.”
“But it was Lorenzo who gave it to him. Not Livia?”
Deirdre nodded.
Murphy asked, “What are you thinking, Brigid?”
“Who’s to say that Lorenzo didn’t have his own supply? I doubt he trusted anyone but himself. If he gave some to Lucien, perhaps he gave some to others, too.”
Silence blanketed the room.
It was Tom who finally spoke. “It would fit with what we know. He was the one trafficking heroin in Dublin—probably to fund this elixir production. When Ioan was killed and he disappeared, the purer heroin dried up. Almost completely. We have a year or two of quiet before we start hearing rumors about this vampire drug. Deirdre, does that sound about right?”
“It does,” she said softly. “Fits the timeline.”
“He probably just quit with the human drugs and focused on the vampire one. I’m sure it’ll make him more money.”
Declan said, “And now someone is picking up right where he left off. Probably the local that Brigid was always on about.”