“I am smart. I know what I’m doing.”
“Really?” He stalked toward her, boxing her against the wall with his thick arms. The girl looked up defiantly. “Why don’t you fill me in, then? Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing?”
“I’m taking care of things. I’m making myself better.”
“What the hell are you talking about, you idiot? I’m asking what drugs you’re using! I can smell more than one, and you’d better tell me.”
“Read my lips, Carwyn. It is none of your business. I’m not under your aegis, and I never will be. I don’t answer to you or anyone else, so piss off and mind your own—”
She broke off when he slapped his hand over her mouth. Her eyes widened in fury, but he ignored her. “It is my business because Ioan and Deirdre are my business, and they love you. You know either of them would tear off their own arm for you, so knowing you’re putting poison in your body would absolutely kill them.”
Brigid narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth, sinking her little human teeth into the heel of his hand. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Carwyn had to stifle a laugh. He pulled his hand away and blinked when he realized she had drawn blood.
“Careful now,” he said. “Drinking vampire blood will make you sick.”
She rolled her eyes again and Carwyn ground his fangs. Why did she keep doing that?
“Listen,” she said in an utterly reasonable voice. “What I’m doing is nothing more than what people do when they go to the doctor and get medications to deal with their problems. I have symptoms. I know how to help myself now. If I was taking prescription medications, you wouldn’t—”
“Say anything? No, because you’d be under the care of a physician, Brigid. That’s a bit different than doping yourself up to deal with things, isn’t it?”
She only glared at him. “You’re not my father or my priest… Father.”
“No, but I thought I could be a friend. Obviously, I gave you too much credit.” He wiped the smear of blood on his jeans and glanced at her from the corner of his eye when she didn’t think he was looking. The girl looked young and scared. She may have talked big, but Brigid didn’t know what she was doing. His heart broke just a little in that moment.
“Brigid—”
“Are you going to tell them?” Her voice had lost its disdainful tone, and she was staring at the cobblestones in the alley.
“I’m on a boat tomorrow night for New York. I’ll be ten days; then I’ll call them when I get to America, Brigid. Tell them first. This isn’t going to be our secret.”
“Fine.” She nodded and started toward the mouth of the alley.
“Brigid?” he called. She stopped but didn’t turn around. “Take care of yourself.”
Carwyn thought he heard a rueful laugh before she turned the corner, disappearing into the bustle of the city.
Malibu, California
July 2005
“Brilliant tradition. Excellent use of explosives.”
He and Beatrice were leaning against a pile of rocks he’d formed to create a kind of shelter from the wind that whipped down the California coast. They were roasting marshmallows on the deserted beach, enjoying the bonfire, and watching the distant fireworks that marked American Independence Day.
Beatrice said, “It is fitting, isn’t it? We do like our violent celebrations.”
“You do. Is this better than the fireworks in Houston?”
“Oh yeah. Rich people put on a great show.”
Carwyn snorted, enjoying the fact his friend didn’t lump herself in with the rich, despite the rather massive fortune she’d stolen the year before from a vicious water vampire who had kidnapped her. Lorenzo was the estranged son of his friend, Giovanni, and a villain at the core. Carwyn, Giovanni, and their friend Tenzin had attacked his compound in Greece and rescued Beatrice the year before, driving Lorenzo underground—or underwater, as the case may have been—but Carwyn knew he was still lurking. He also knew that, since helping his friends, he had become a target.
It didn’t concern him. Another hundred years, another enemy to watch out for. When you lived as long as he did, it was inevitable.
He saw Beatrice glancing at the ocean as the tide came in. Few would notice how the waves still made her tense, but she deliberately turned back to the fire and ignored them.
“Too much?” he asked, catching her eye and gesturing toward the ocean. “We can always take the bike farther up the coast. Plenty of dark left. We can just keep riding if you don’t want to listen to the water.”
She shook her head. “No, this is good. I’m good. I need to get over it, you know? Otherwise…”
“What?”
She smiled at him. “Sometimes, life hands you things you think you won’t survive. You probably know that better than me.”
He shrugged. “Despite my years, sometimes I feel as if I’ve lived a very charmed life. My family, for the most part, has been safe.”
“But still, things happen. There’s no such thing as complete safety.”
He thought of a dark room and a helpless little girl. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”
“So when life breaks, you pick up the pieces and keep moving. Otherwise, you stay broken. And instead of being a survivor, you’re always a victim.” Beatrice leaned toward the fire and crossed her arms over her chest. “And I don’t want to be known for what happened to me. I want to be known for me.”
“Look at you, wise girl.” He winked at her. “You can handle anything, can’t you?”
“A good friend. A warm fire. I can’t handle everything, but I can handle the waves for a bit.”
He smiled. “Just let me know when you want to go.”
“I will.”
“B?”
“Yeah?”
His thoughts drifted back to a frightened young woman in Dublin, and the mingled bravery and fear he’d seen in her eyes. “I know when your dad first showed up again, after he’d turned and you didn’t know…” He paused. “Gio didn’t tell me much, but I know you thought… that you thought—”
“I was crazy?” He looked up, and Beatrice was smiling at him.
He chuckled a little. “Yes.”
“Well… yeah. Dad dies only to show up years later looking like an emaciated monster? You could say that messed with my head.”
“Did you ever—when things were bad—did you ever try drugs? Not the prescription kind.”
She cocked her head at him. “Should I ask why you’re wondering?”
“You don’t have to answer.”
Beatrice said, “It’s all right. And no. I drank some. Okay, a lot sometimes, but to tell the truth, drugs always scared the shit out of me. Plus, I just knew my grandma and grandpa would find out. There are some things you can’t hide.”
“I know.”
“Can I ask?”
He shook his head and thought of the difficult call he’d had to make to Ioan when he’d arrived in New York. “Just a friend. She had a rough childhood. I’m sure you can relate.”
“Not really.” He looked up in surprise, and Beatrice shrugged. “I mean, I lost my dad, and I had a really bad time when I was a teenager, but basically, I had it pretty good. I always knew my family loved me. And that’s the most important thing.”
“Me, too. I had a wonderful family.”
“Really?” She grinned. “Your human family? You hardly ever talk about them.”
“Oh, my parents were wonderful. And my sisters. I had four sisters. It was a very close family. Extended family, as well. When Efa and I married—our parents were dear friends, so it was arranged. Pure chance we loved each other. But it was a very close community.” He nodded. “That’s what saved me after I turned. I knew my children would be looked after, even though I couldn’t see them and their mother was gone.”
“You never talk about her.”
“Who, Efa?” Carwyn smiled when he thought about his gentle young wife. He’d been crazy in love with the demure gir
l. He could still remember their wedding night. Both of them young, fumbling. So eager and overwhelmed with love and excitement. Losing her years later had pierced Carwyn’s heart with a pain he hadn’t thought he’d be able to live through. But he had. And he’d survived without her for over a thousand years. “She was a very loving girl. I wonder, sometimes, if we would have fallen in love if we hadn’t been meant for each other. We were very different.”
“What would she think of you now? Do you ever wonder?”
He frowned. “Not really. It was so long ago. I think she would appreciate my faith and devotion to my family. Family was very important to both of us. But I was much more serious when I was young.”
“Really?” Beatrice laughed. “Isn’t it usually the opposite?”
“Not if you live long enough.” A sudden pain swept over him. “After about five hundred years or so, you have to laugh at yourself or you’d go mad.” He looked into the fire again, contemplating his human love, who had become such a faint memory. “Efa was a beautiful wife. Wonderful mother. Quiet. I wonder if she’d even recognize me now.”
“Quiet, huh?” Beatrice grinned at him. “That’s probably only because she couldn’t get a word in around you, blabbermouth.”
Carwyn’s sudden melancholy lifted and his laugh filled the quiet beach. “You’re probably right! I can only imagine.”
“When you were gone, she probably had plenty to say.”
“Tales of putting up with my obnoxious young self. Poor thing.” He smiled again and threw an arm over Beatrice’s shoulders.
“Why haven’t you ever married again? You’re a good-looking guy. And you have one of the biggest hearts I’ve ever known.”
He winked. “Besides the obvious, collar-type reasons?”
“I don’t think God would get pissed off at this point. You’ve worked for him for a long time.”
“And I’ll work for him until the day I leave this earth.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I don’t know. Just never found the right woman, I suppose.”
“Ah.”
“And who would put up with me, honestly?”
“You can be pretty charming when you want to be.”
He looked down and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Oh, really?”
Beatrice burst into laughter and tugged at the collar of his garish Hawaiian shirt. “Yep, you’re a regular knight in flowered armor. You just need to find your damsel.”
“Oh,” he groaned. “I don’t know. I’ve never really seen the appeal of the ‘damsel-in-distress,’ to be totally honest. I’m not really the damsel type.”
“Well, maybe you need to find a knight, then.”
He grimaced. “Definitely never seen the appeal of those.”
Beatrice leaned into his shoulder. “You’ll find the right one someday. I have faith.”
Carwyn smiled and leaned over to kiss her forehead as the rainbow pyrotechnics flashed in the distance. “Well, I’m glad one of us does.”
Chapter Four
Dublin, Ireland
July 2005
Brigid sat stoically in the antiseptic air of the doctor’s office, only half-listening to the understanding voice of the physician.
“So, the combination of the MDMA, or Ecstasy, along with the intermittent heroin use was creating in your brain the false feeling of contentment and depressing your symptoms of social anxiety through manipulation of serotonin levels. Though the short-term benefits of the drugs would mimic prescription medications for the disorder, long term use…”
Blah.
Blah.
Blah.
The grey-haired physician droned on. She finally lifted her eyes to Ioan’s as he sat watching from across the small exam room. He was furious. Disappointed. But the emotion that pierced her heart, the one that had convinced her to follow him to the grey building in the city suburbs, was fear.
Her protector couldn’t be afraid. He was too strong. Too sure.
Brigid could never think of Ioan as a father. She had no father, and even the hint of one was enough to make her stomach churn. Ioan was the older brother she’d always wished for. The one who would defend her. And her protector was staring at her with dark, fearful eyes.
Brigid blinked back tears and looked away.
Ioan interrupted softly, “Dr. McTierney, I think that’s enough. Thank you. Brigid’s health appears normal?”
“Brigid?” The doctor spoke to her softly, his tone asking permission. She just shrugged, and the doctor turned back to Ioan. “All her blood tests came back normal except for the drugs in her system. The levels match the use she described in her interview.”
The doctor sat down on the chair across from her. Brigid curled into herself and stared at his hands and the small, dark hairs that sprinkled the back of them. Thick veins crossed the top of hands that he folded in studied, professional concern. “Brigid, I’m a physician, but I am familiar with social anxiety and depression. There are prescription medications that can help you. Your symptoms and history are classic—”
“Piss off and leave me alone.” Her voice was soft, but clear. She had nothing to say to the human. She wanted to be left alone.
“Brenden, if you could give us some privacy, I’d appreciate it.”
The doctor rose and shook Ioan’s hand before he left the small examination room, leaving Brigid and Ioan alone. Ioan often worked in the city doing clinics for the underprivileged. The doctor was a friend who helped and had agreed to perform the lab work confidentially during hours that Ioan could accompany her. She could hear Ioan heave a deep sigh, and she closed her eyes.
“Christ, Brigid, when I think how bad this could have been—”
“Are you going to make me quit school?”
She was still doing well in school. After her first experience at the club, she researched Ecstasy. Illegal drugs weren’t something she had ever considered taking, but the effects of the MDMA had been so soothing she had to learn more. She paced herself. She was careful to only use them in social situations, and never too often. And when the MDMA had stopped being quite as effective, a small dose of heroin did the trick. Never too much. She was still in control.
That’s what she told herself.
And if her use toward the end of term had increased, that was just because of stress, wasn’t it? Her grades had slipped a little, but not enough that it had affected her standing with the university. But if Ioan made her stop taking classes—
“Of course you’re quitting school, you idiot! You’re quitting school. You’re quitting your friends in town. Most importantly, you’re quitting drugs. Enough, Brigid. We’re lucky to catch this after only a few months. You’re entering a program and you’re—”
Her head shot up. “I’m not going to any fecking rehab.”
“Yes, you are.” He glared at her. “It’s not open for debate. You’re going. You’re getting help for the addictions, and you’re—”
“You can’t force me into one.”
“Oh, yes, I can.”
“You can’t!”
Ioan rose from his seat and stalked toward her. He pulled her up by the collar of her jacket and his voice was a low growl. “You forget yourself, Brigid Connor. Do you forget who I am? Do you forget who Deirdre is? Under piddling Irish law I may not be able to force you into a program, but we’re not talking about Irish law, are we?”
He paused, and she forced herself to look up, despite the burning in her eyes.
“Never forget what it means to be under my aegis, Brigid. I am responsible for you. For your actions. When you risk yourself like this, you risk exposing all of us to the mortal world. You will go to treatment if I have to use amnis to put you there. It is not an option.”
Her defiance crumbled. She knew he was right. Rebellion had never truly been an option. She had known that from the time she was a girl. Her shoulders slumped, and she curled back into her chair. Ioan sat next to her and gently put an arm around her thin shoulders. Ioan had always been one of the fe
w people she could handle being near. The priest had been another one.
“Fecking Carwyn.”
“Don’t blame him. How long do you really think you would have been able to hide this from us?”
“I’ll never be in the Garda,” she whispered. “I’ll never be able to pass the psychological evaluations, and I’ll have a history of prescription drug use for social anxiety. I’ll never—”
“Ah, Brig.” He groaned. “Girl, how did you think you were going to pass the drug test? The Garda was never going to be an option if you were taking drugs.”
She took a shaky breath and inched closer to him. “I thought… I thought if I just took them long enough. Maybe I could conquer it. I could get better, and I’d be able to be normal.”
“We were wrong, Deirdre and me. Me, most of all. We helped you treat the symptoms, Brig, but we never treated the wound.”
Her heart sped and she pulled away. “What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
“I—I don’t want to.” Her heart began to race.
“You have to.”
“No.”
“Brigid, there’s a doctor. One of us. She’s a healer, but one that focuses on the mind.”
She scoffed and stood, crossing her arms across her body. “What? So, you want me to go to a—a vampire shrink or some mad thing?”
“She lives in Galway, and she’s a very old friend of Deirdre’s. Anne is a friend, Brigid. Not an enemy. She specializes in addiction and—”
“I am not an addict!”
“Yes, you are!” he bellowed, rising to his feet. “You were using them every day. You admitted that you couldn’t go out socially without them. That you couldn’t even be with your boyfriend—”
“He told you that?” She stared at the door in horror, wishing she could hunt down the doctor and kill him. And maybe, just maybe put an end to her own humiliation, as well. “How could he—?”
Ioan stepped toward her and raised his hands to her shoulders, but backed away when he saw her flinch. He lowered his voice. “You’re missing the point. And be mad at me. I’m the one who used amnis to make him tell me the details of your interview.”