“Ioan can’t be missing,” she shouted. “He can’t! Where is he?” She stalked over to the rotary phone on Murphy’s desk and picked up the handset before Carwyn grasped her arm. She shook him off and dialed.
“He’s not at home. He’s not at his place here or the clinic. He’s missing, Brigid, and he was working on finding something for you. What was he looking for? I need you to tell me.”
She just shook her head as the phone rang and rang. Twice. Three times. Four. Why wasn’t anyone picking up? She blinked back the tears, but Carwyn was still talking.
“I told you he’s not there. What was he working on? He was talking about blood research. Talking about a question you’d asked. Was it related to the drugs business? I know—”
She slammed down the receiver and spun around. “I don’t know what he was looking for! I think there’s something else going on besides the heroin. There are things that don’t… they don’t make sense. I was running into too many dead ends. It’s not a human. Whatever is going on… I asked him one question, and he seemed to get it in his head that there was something there. I asked him if there were any drugs that affected vampires and that’s all! I thought… I thought—I don’t know what I thought!”
“There has to be something, Brigid. Think. Has anyone asked after him lately? Or asked about me? It’s possible this is because of me or someone else in our clan. Has anyone—?”
“No!” She tore at her hair and paced the room, the panic descending around her. It wasn’t safe here. Nowhere was safe. Ioan couldn't be gone. Ioan was her protector. He was the strongest being she had ever known, save for the irate mountain of vampire glaring at her from across the room.
Carwyn was still pacing. “We’ve run out of ideas, and you’re the only one he would have confided in other than Deirdre and me. I need to know whether this is because of me. If this is my fault… Please, Brigid. We need your help.”
Her whole body was numb. She shook her head. “I don’t know anything, Carwyn. He kept asking me questions. Had I ever seen a vampire taking drugs? Did I know many humans who liked to be bitten? Did they take drugs? It was always just a few questions, then he would start muttering…” A gaping hole opened up in her chest and she felt as if her heart caved in. Suddenly, it was as if the life left her legs and she crumbled to the floor. “He would do that muttering thing he does when he gets an idea and he just… I mean, he just…” It was a groan, more than a cry, that wrenched itself out of her mouth.
He couldn’t be missing.
He couldn’t be gone.
If Ioan was gone then nothing in the world was safe. Brigid felt Carwyn lift her up and carry her to the leather chaise in the corner of the office. He set her down gently and stroked a hand across her cheek, into her hair, his fingers weaving through the thick brown strands until his palm rested warm on the back of her neck. She held on to him like a lifeline.
“Can you think of anything else he mentioned? Anything?”
She couldn’t think. Her mind was a whirl of memories, sifting through every image, every conversation, every shared joke she’d ever had with Ioan. She felt Carwyn’s lips press down on the top of her head.
“I have to go, love. I have to keep looking. I’ve called friends to help. This may be related to something I was involved in and I’m calling in a favor. You’re not to go anywhere without one of Murphy’s men, do you understand?” She felt his hand shake a little where it held her neck. “If someone is targeting my people, they could come after you, too. You’re the most—” She heard his voice crack. “The most vulnerable here in the city. Maybe it would be better—”
“I’m not going back home,” she muttered. “Not while he’s still missing. I’ll stay in the city. I can help. I’ll do what I can. I have to.”
His arms tightened around her. “Brigid, I… we can’t lose you, too. Please don’t try anything foolish.” He held her for a few more moments, then bent down and whispered in her ear. “I have to go.”
Her hands reached up and clutched his forearm as it crossed her chest. Her fingers dug into the thick muscle there, keeping his arm close for one more moment before she pushed him away. “Go,” she whispered. “Find him, Carwyn.”
The search for Ioan was the consuming mission of every member of the Dublin security team for the next week. Every vampire in the city was shocked. Ioan was the most powerful vampire in Ireland and had studiously avoided political struggles for hundreds of years. He was a scientist, a peacemaker. If he was vulnerable, then no one was safe. The city was reeling in shock and no little amount of fear.
Brigid’s coworkers spoke in hushed whispers around her and handed her busywork. She wasn’t allowed to leave and do anything in the field. She didn’t even try to leave the building. She ate and breathed the search, called every contact she had in the human world. Doctors. Nurses. Clergy he’d helped at one point or another. Every former patient of Ioan’s in Dublin that she could think of. She hardly slept.
It was the middle of the night when she heard the name. She blinked and her head shot up from the desk where she had fallen asleep for a few minutes. Declan and Jack were muttering nearby in Irish.
“What was that?”
Declan frowned. “I thought you spoke Irish.”
“No, that name. What was that name you just said?”
Jack shook his head. “What name? Lorenzo?”
Lorenzo.
Lorenzo, Lorenzo, Lorenzo…
Declan said, “He’s an old enemy of Carwyn’s. Ioan had no enemies that anyone can think of. It’s the only other thing that makes sense. He must have been targeted because of his sire. Lorenzo has had a vendetta against Carwyn and his friend Giovanni Vecchio for years now. He’s dangerous, but has stayed out of sight, so he’s—”
“In Dublin.”
In the blink of an eye, both vampires sped to her and Declan lifted her by the shoulders. His fangs were bared. “Where? When?”
“I didn’t know who he was. You didn’t tell me his name. No one did.” She shook her head. “Why didn’t you tell me before? I went to a party with friends. He had a penthouse.” She shook off Declan’s grip and stalked across the room. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me his name?” She pointed to the location on the large map that spread across the back wall. “It was right here. Why didn't you tell me before?”
Declan sped out the door, and Jack ran over to her. “I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t know… I’m so sorry, Brigid.” She saw his fangs descended and he clutched at her shoulders. “Can you think of anything else, Brigid? Anyone you saw. Think! Any locations? Associates who—”
Her heart was racing. She brushed off Jack’s hands and the amnis she felt him trying to use to calm her. “He—he had two of his children with him. An American and an Irishman. Both young. And—and there was something…” She scoured her memories.
“…hangs with us at our building over by the river sometimes. It’s kind of our after-hours place.”
“What, like a pub?”
“More like a private club. It’s no big deal…”
She blinked and looked up. “There’s a building by the river. One of his children said they had a building by the river where they went sometimes. Like a club. It was on the river.”
Near water. Away from the earth. Away from the element Ioan used to draw his strength. A place they could hurt him.
Jack clutched her arms again, but he was rubbing them, trying to warm her. Brigid felt like she’d never be warm again. Declan burst back into the room.
“We already have people going to the house. It was rented under the name of Josh Smith, and—”
“Declan,” Jack said. “There’s a building by the river. One his boys use. We have to find it.”
“Connor!” Tom shouted as he strode into the room. “Get your wits and get on the computer. Let’s find that building.”
Days later, after more fruitless searching, there was a tapping on her door. Brigid cracked it open. She could see the tru
th splashed across Murphy’s face.
Brigid had found the building. They wouldn’t let her search it, but she knew Carwyn and his Italian friend had gone. They had found some vampires there, but none had known anything about Ioan or Lorenzo. In fact, they had found nothing at the warehouse except for too much blood and Ioan’s scent everywhere.
Deep in the silent, scared part of her heart, Brigid had known the truth. She took one look at Murphy’s grim face and shut the door. Her back slid down the wall as her legs gave out from under her. She forced her fist into her mouth and bit until she tasted her own blood.
“Brigid?” Murphy called. “Brigid, darling, open the door.”
She shook her head and dug her small teeth into her hand again as silent tears ran down her cheeks.
“Brigid, please.”
She shook her head and continued to sob quietly, remembering the gentle man in the library who had been the rock-solid center of everything that was safe and secure.
“I’m very brave, you know. I never cry.”
“I know, Brigid…”
Her protector was gone.
“I know you’re very brave.”
Chapter Eleven
Wicklow Mountains
April 2010
Carwyn stared at the pictures on Ioan’s desk. His son and Deirdre, smiling at a Christmas dinner. Ioan with Brigid in a playful headlock as they sat in a pub somewhere. Wearing a tuxedo with his sister Gemma at a glamorous party in London. Ioan and him, a candid shot that someone had captured. They were laughing. He didn’t remember about what.
Now he knew. Knew the agony of loss his sire had felt when she lost her sister. Knew the creeping despair of losing his most ancient friend.
And in his grief, what had he become?
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I don’t remember when my last confession was…”
The whispered words of confession as his son’s murderer detailed Ioan’s last hours.
The beating. The torture. The quick slice at the neck that had ended nine hundred years of a beautiful life.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…”
Didn’t they realize? He offered their prayers up to God, but harbored the memory of their sins for eternity.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…”
Carwyn closed his eyes and heard the quick twist of the boy’s neck as Gemma took her vengeance on her brother’s murderer. The young vampire paid in the only currency their brutal world understood. And in Carwyn’s mind, he realized it wasn’t only vengeance. It was a warning. A necessary declaration of power that kept all of them, and all the humans under their aegis, safe from those who intended harm.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned…”
But he also knew that he had knelt next to Ioan’s killer on the wet deck of a freighter in the English Channel, offered absolution to a sinner, then walked away, knowing he would be killed.
Who had he become? The conflict between his earthly and heavenly obligations had never been so stark.
He brushed the thought aside and shuffled through the correspondence that had built up on Ioan’s desk. He’d told Deirdre that he’d sort through it for her, even though he dreaded the task. But life moved on. A passage from Ecclesiastes came to him.
Generations come and generations go, but the Earth remains forever.
He remained. Like the earth that surrounded him in Ioan’s library, he remained solid and unchangeable. And life moved on.
The two vampires directly responsible for his son’s death were dead. Lorenzo was not. Not yet, anyway. But his close friends, Beatrice and Giovanni, were safe in South America, finding peace and love even in the midst of pain. His clan was shoring up their defenses with an enemy still on the loose. His son, Gus, received word from his twin sister, Carla. Carwyn’s child, Luc, had sent a letter from the Netherlands, and Guy had called from his home in Northern France. Tavish and Max had both checked in from Scotland. Gemma was safe in London, secure under the careful guard of her powerful fiancé. She was Carwyn’s oldest child now and had already sent men to guard her youngest brother, Daniel, who lived in the Lakes region in England.
Generations came and went. His children rose in power and spread their influence. After a thousand years on earth, Father Carwyn ap Bryn felt the stirring of change in his blood, and the earth surrounding him hummed in awareness.
“Carwyn?” Deirdre called down the hallway. He turned just as she peeked her head into the library. “Are you hungry?”
“No, thank you.”
“Is there anything I can help with?”
He saw the hollow grief in her eyes. She had lost half of herself when Ioan was killed. “No. Unless you want something to do.”
She nodded, so he pulled a chair next to him and she sat down. He handed her a stack of letters to sort.
Mail from family went in one stack. Letters from medical journals and scientific societies in another. There was correspondence from immortals all over the globe whom Ioan had known professionally and personally. Letters from numerous humans he’d had contact with or helped. Financial statements. Bills. Notices. It was overwhelming.
“This is just from the last four months?”
She nodded. “Well, four and a half, I suppose.”
Carwyn shook his head and put another letter in the “family” pile. It was from one of Ioan’s children who was considering a move to the United States and needed an introduction. Ioan would have contacted one of his own associates in New York. Or perhaps Seattle or Chicago and consulted with them. Then letters between the two would need to be exchanged. Details of what the business implications of the move were. Why the vampire wanted to relocate. What allegiance or support they could offer. Though the immortal world had no central government, it operated on a feudal system of power, money, allegiance, and personal connections. All things that Ioan, as the oldest of his children, had dealt with in his stead for nine hundred years.
He muttered, “This is ridiculous.”
Deirdre looked up with a frown. “What is?”
Carwyn threw up his hands. “All this. He handled all this because I couldn’t be bothered with most of it, Deirdre. I had responsibilities and I ignored them.”
“You are dedicated to the church. And these were our responsibilities. Our children, not yours.”
“They are part of my clan and my connections are the most extensive, so it’s something I should have shared. It should never have fallen solely—”
She grabbed his hand. “It didn’t. It was shared between all of us. Ioan was just the oldest, so he did the most. And we all understood that you had a calling. You still do. You owe us nothing, Father.”
He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “I think it may be time for a change.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
She was silent as she looked at him, then she turned back to the stack of letters and continued sorting. “He was happy to help. He was always—” Her voice broke, and Carwyn reached across to embrace her.
“Shh.” Her shoulders were stiff and he knew she was fighting back tears. Deirdre had always been strong. She was the warrior, never the one to show weakness. “Grieve, daughter. You have the right.”
“There are too many depending on me,” she whispered. “And you cannot stay here forever. Your church—”
“I’ve already contacted the bishop. He’s sent another priest for the time being. I told him that my family needed me. They know not to argue.”
“Carwyn—”
“I am here. For as long as I am needed.” He still hadn’t made it to Dublin, though his thoughts had turned to Brigid Connor often in the past four months. He wanted to see her. Needed to comfort the girl. Deirdre and Sinead had been, but he’d been so occupied with finding Ioan’s murderers, then taking revenge, then sorting through the shattered branches of his family…
He needed to see her.
Deirdre lif
ted her face, stained with bloody tears. “I need to know that this monster cannot hurt others. I know you will stay here as long as you need, but if Giovanni and Beatrice ask for help finding Lorenzo or any others who took part in this, you must go. I am the mate of Ioan ap Carwyn. I am the leader of this clan. I will guard my people. I do not know to what purpose all this has happened, but there must be some greater good. I will cling to that until I see him again.”
Carwyn tugged on a lock of her wild, red hair. “Which will not be for many, many years.”
She smiled and lifted a hand to pat his shoulder. “No, Father. I do not despair of this life. I am simply… weary of it at the moment.”
He left an arm around her shoulders. “Pray with me?”
“Of course.”
Carwyn closed his eyes and felt the ancient mountain surrounding him, the pulse of creation beneath his feet. His soul reached up as he opened his lips to whisper the ancient words. “Give ear to my words, O Lord, consider my meditation. Give heed to the voice of my cry, my King and my God, for to You I will pray. My voice You shall hear in the morning. In the morning, I will direct it to You…”
Deirdre whispered softly, “And I will look up.”
Dublin
May 2010
Another day. Another night.
Brigid slung her bag on her desk and picked up the list of tasks Tom had given her. It was too short. She looked up to see Declan watching her with guarded eyes. “This is all?”
He shrugged. “Ask Tom if you want more.”
“I have asked. Does he think I’m a weeping mess? I want more to do.”
Jack spoke quietly from the other side of the room. “No one thinks you’re a weeping mess, but you’ve been working fourteen-hour nights for the past five months. Perhaps—”
“Perhaps you all should just let me work like I want to and not worry about me.”
Jack’s mouth turned up at the corner. “Impossible.”