Building From Ashes

Carwyn smiled, closed his eyes, and began to pray with her.

Chapter Six

Dublin, Ireland

September 2006

It was amazing how much one city could change in a year. But then, as Brigid opened the door to her new flat that faced the river, she thought she might have changed just as much. And just like the modern construction that lined the River Liffey, she felt ready for the future. Her year with Anne had helped her turn a corner. And though shadows of the past still haunted her at times, she’d finally reached a place where they weren’t an anchor dragging her down.

In her time away, Patrick Murphy had moved the center of his operations to the newly refurbished building in the heart of Dublin’s emerging Docklands. The old building had been razed and a bright, modern structure of glass and steel had been built in its place. Since Brigid considered this move a new start for a new her, she approved of her flat. She never wanted to step foot in Parliament House again.

“Miss Connor?” The building director was still standing in the door. “Will this be acceptable?”

“Thank you, Smith. It’s lovely. When my things arrive, please have them brought up.”

The older gentleman nodded. He probably could have worked running any one of the world-class hotels in the city, but instead, Smith coordinated the residents in Murphy’s new building. The bottom floors hummed with the night and day business of the immortal leader. Shipping. Clubs. Restaurants. Her new landlord was powerful and very, very wealthy.

“May I escort you to Murphy’s office for your interview, Miss Connor?”

She dropped her purse on the table in the entry and picked up a small handbag. Smith cleared his throat. “You won’t need your bag, miss. I’ll be happy to see you back into your rooms, but security does not allow any bags or briefcases into Murphy’s office.”

“Well, of course not. Thank you, Smith.” She picked up her jacket and patted the pockets, looking to Smith with a smile. “Best make sure I don’t have any spare pen-knives, matches, or broadswords in here, either.”

“Very thoughtful of you.”

They walked down the hall to the elevator and took it down to the first floor. Unlike most executives, who would consider the top floor a mark of stature, Patrick Murphy kept offices on the first. As they walked past the wall of glass that lined the hall, Brigid looked at the lights of the boats floating up and down the river. She noted that the building jutted out over the bank, giving Murphy and any other water vampire immediate river access and what would probably be very strong elemental strength.

They stopped in front of a set of double doors, and Smith paused. He gestured toward a small sitting area with a coffee table and an old rotary phone.

“You may wait here for security to come get you when Murphy is ready for your interview. If you dial fifty-four when you are finished, it will connect directly to my office, Miss Connor. I’ll see you directly back to your room, or escort you through the building, if you like.”

“Thank you, Smith. But please, call me Brigid.”

He smiled. “Of course, Miss.”

Brigid held out her hand and gave Smith a firm handshake. Her heart did not race. She was calm, and her palms were not even damp. After months of Anne’s unique therapy, which combined traditional counseling with the targeted use of vampire amnis to treat certain symptoms, Brigid finally felt as if she was in control of her reactions for the first time in her life. She no longer felt an instinctive aversion to touch and she was far more comfortable in social situations. She had feared, prior to her return, that being back in Dublin would cause her to relapse, but so far, none had occurred.

She took a seat and started to page through one of the local newspapers that lay neatly on the table, but as soon as she picked up the first one, the door opened.

“Brigid Connor?” The tall vampire had a blank expression as he looked her over. Other than his height, he was very average looking. Average brown hair. Average brown eyes. Pale, unlined skin marked him as an immortal, and his canny eyes scanned her for any detectable threat. She rose quickly.

“I am.”

“Murphy is ready for you. Please, come with me.”

She walked ahead of him through the doors, but paused before she ran into the second set of doors. The vampire smiled almost imperceptibly.

“All of his offices are light-proof, of course.”

“Of course.”

The vampire fitted a key in a lock, then drew a stylus from around his neck and punched in a code on a keypad above the lock. He caught her glance and smiled again. “The passcode changes every night. Just in case you were curious.”

She blinked. “I—I’m not. I’m just not used to most vampires using electronics and such.”

He gave a low chuckle. “The ones who work for Murphy do.”

Brigid heard a small buzz, then he pushed the door open and entered. Beyond the door was another office that looked like any rich executive’s welcome desk. An efficient-looking human woman worked behind a computer, glancing up with interest. She lifted the half-moon glasses she’d been wearing and tucked a lock of her smooth silver hair behind her ear. “Murphy’s ten o’clock?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The vampire’s voice held a hint of a tease, and Brigid looked up to see humor lighting his face. The secretary scowled.

“Ma’am me, you impudent lad. You’re a hundred years older than me, and you know it.”

“And yet you still call me a lad, Angie. I must be living right.”