Building From Ashes

Murphy said, “We’re not sure what else it does. It’s something that’s given to humans. Puts them in amazing health, from all reports. A kind of miracle cure. Heals wounds. Cures disease. And once a human takes it, the vampire feeds from them.”

Tom said, “And then?”

“Reports are saying that the vampire has no hunger but the human kind. Normal food and liquid intake. There’s an increase in elemental power. Surge of strength—”

“Forget battling it,” Declan said. “How can we import it?”

Tom’s voice was a warning. “Declan…”

“Come on!” The usually pragmatic immortal’s voice hummed with excitement. “Murphy, this is an opportunity. This isn’t like the self-destructive shit that humans take. This doesn’t sound like a drug at all. It sounds like the answer to a bloody problem.”

“Literally,” Jack said.

“The problem”—Murphy held up a hand—“is that the source of this drug is a ninth century manuscript that Lorenzo stole. We all know Lorenzo. We’re not talking about a humanitarian, gentlemen. If he wants it, there’s another side to the story.”

The four men began arguing, but Brigid sat back in her chair and let her mind drift.

So, this was the book that Carwyn had told her about. The book his friends, Giovanni Vecchio and Beatrice De Novo, had lost. Carwyn’s old enemy, Lorenzo, had stolen it. Killed innocents for it. And it contained the formula for the drug that Ioan had wondered about. A drug that could affect immortals. Change them. But how? Brigid had to agree with Murphy; there was another side to this story.

Murphy was still talking. “I’m talking about pragmatism, boys. I’m talking about looking out for the greater good and not letting our enthusiasm run away with us. The bastard killed the most respected vampire in Ireland to get information about this drug. And the reports I’m getting—”

“What are these reports you keep talking about?” Brigid broke in quietly, and the whole room turned to her with guarded eyes. “Where are you getting them? What’s the source of the information, Murphy? Can we trust it?”

A quick glance between Murphy and Tom roused her suspicions. “I received a call from Deirdre earlier this afternoon.”

“Deirdre?” Her sire. Why was Deirdre calling Murphy instead of her?

They’d come to an uneasy truce, her immortal mother and herself. Yes, Deirdre had sired Brigid without her consent, but with Anne’s help and the gift of time and distance, Brigid had found peace about her new life. She hadn’t wanted to die and was grateful that Deirdre had saved her. She had things to look forward to now. She had friends. A future. She had—

“Carwyn has been in Wicklow looking through the remains of Ioan’s library with Deirdre. Apparently, there are missing papers regarding blood research, but he has no idea what is gone.”

Carwyn? Brigid’s brain locked up.

“Carwyn ap Bryn?” Declan asked with evident respect. “The priest? I thought he’d gone back to Wales. He’s here?”

Carwyn was in Ireland? But…

Murphy’s eyes darted toward hers. “Yes, he’s been here for a number of months now. In Wicklow with his family.”

And not with her. Brigid quashed the rush of heat that tried to overtake her. The fire simmered just under her skin, prickling and dancing as she inwardly fumed.

He was in Wicklow?

Three months she’d been in Dublin. The first month, she settled, knowing that he had been spending the Christmas holidays in South America with family and friends. He’d told her before he left in August that he’d be gone. That he’d be back. How could he not? After their month together, the perfect month they’d spent talking and laughing. Kissing like sweethearts and holding hands. He’d never pushed her. He said that he could be patient. That she was worth the wait. There was still so much to work out. But they had time, he said. And she agreed.

But she’d missed him when he didn’t show up the first month. Then the second month came and there was no word. Then the third. And Brigid didn’t know what to think.

She slid back into work as if she had never been gone, the only difference being hours and the set of hands that Murphy had hired for her. The ‘hands’ were named Sara and belonged to a very nice human girl whose parents, like Emily’s, had worked for Murphy since she was born. She was a quick, no-nonsense twenty-four-year-old Trinity graduate who did her work efficiently and seemed completely unimpressed with Jack’s flirtations.

Brigid had liked her almost immediately.

Seven months had passed with no sign of him, and a crack had formed in the delicate trust they’d built. Brigid blinked and tried to focus on what Murphy was saying.

“Until we know more about this drug, about its effects and the long-term ramifications, I want all of you to be very, very careful. We know he intends to produce it, but we don’t know where. We don’t know if it’s even detectable in humans, so be very careful whom you drink from. And if you see any of the usual humans who like being bitten seem to have a surge in health or activity, beware. Our first priority is still finding local connections Lorenzo might have used when he was distributing heroin here. Logic says that he’ll use the same connections with this new drug as the old, so keep up with your investigations. Now that Brigid is back”—He grinned and winked at her—“those who kick up a fuss have more incentive to cooperate.”