Building From Ashes
Page 22
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“Good idea.”
“I have a lot of them.”
She couldn’t stop the blush that stained her neck. “I’m sure you do.”
He had a smart mouth, and Brigid wished she didn’t find it quite so appealing. She smoothed the very conservative grey slacks she’d worn and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. Gone were the clashing colors and rows of earrings. Her hair was its natural dark brown. Her ears held only two piercings each, and her suit was plain and well tailored, fitting the office, the vampire across from her, and the organization she hoped to work in.
“Almost all the employees in my security department are immortal. Most of them are related to me in some way. I have very few outsiders here, and I’ll be quite honest, despite your connections—which are the only reason I’m considering you—I will not trust you until I know you better.”
“That’s perfectly understandable, sir.”
He narrowed his eyes and examined her as she sat across from him, still as a vampire. “As I said, most of my security is vampire, except for Angie. Obviously, this presents some challenges. How proficient are you on the computer?”
“I’m no expert, but I’m very computer-literate, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“That’s all I need. I have my own sources for other kinds of information.”
She nodded. “It shouldn’t be a problem, then, and I’m a very fast learner.”
“Are you?”
“I am.”
“Good. And of course, you won’t burn up in sunlight, which also has obvious advantages.”
She smiled. “True.”
He paused for a moment, staring at her intently as his hands steepled on the desk in front of him. “The drugs problem is growing worse in Dublin. To a certain extent, this does not concern me.” He must have caught the stiffening of her shoulders. “Not that drug use isn’t a concern to all citizens, but for the most part, the mortal authorities are equipped to deal with it. Only rarely does it interfere with those under my aegis or those in my territories.”
Her voice was quiet when she asked, “Are you sure about that?”
Murphy arched an eyebrow at her, but continued. “As you may have guessed, the problem of drugs at Parliament House—which is in my territories—and the safety of its residents, has been of some concern considering developments over the past year. Further, the import problem does fall under my purview, as well.”
“Where is it coming from?”
“In Ireland, Brigid, almost everything arrives by boat. Especially drugs. I am a water vampire and the largest private holder of shipping interests in the country—not that the mortals are aware of it. The import of narcotics, and the criminal activity associated with such, has become something of a problem that overlaps with my own interests. Therefore, I have become involved, no matter how I may have wanted to avoid it.”
He fell silent, and Brigid forced herself to meet his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”
Murphy smiled. “You working for me could be beneficial to us both. You have knowledge about this problem you may not even realize you possess. But that also means you’ll have to be in contact with some of the elements you’ve tried very hard to distance yourself from. Is that something you can manage?”
Brigid thought about her old friends. Thought about the greedy glint in the eye of the boy she’d bought drugs from and the utter terror and pain of heroin withdrawal. Could she willingly put herself into that world again? Would she manage to resist the quick and easy promise of oblivion? If she could really help, she would.
“Depend on it. I’m in.” Murphy’s face was utterly blank. Brigid could hear the clock on the wall behind her ticking, but there was no electronic hum of a computer or ringing phones to distract her from his examination. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Did you have any other questions for me?”
He finally smiled and leaned toward her. “Would you like meet the team?”
Chapter Seven
Snowdonia, Wales
September 2007
“Hello, Father.”
Carwyn nodded at the older man who passed him on his way to the small market in town. Sister Maggie had run out of currants and asked him to pick up some more for the scones she was baking in the morning with the ladies at the church. Since the nights were finally getting longer again, he told her he’d enjoy the walk. If he stopped by the small pub in town for a pint… Well, she wasn’t baking that night, was she?
“Hello, Father Carwyn.” He smiled at the little girl and her mother who passed him.
“Noswaith dda.”
“Evening, Father.”
“How’s Sister Maggie, Father?”
The small village tucked into the hills of Northern Wales was a relic. The majority of his ancestral homeland had long ago abandoned the Roman church, but in the isolated mountain community, his old stone chapel still stood, faithful and enduring, and the people of the town were set in their traditions.
He brushed back the shaggy red hair that fell over his forehead. He still needed that haircut Maggie was pestering him about. A light rain fell and twinkled on the black coat he wore. Though he only wore clerical attire during formal occasions or mass these days, he still kept to a more muted wardrobe when he was home and working.
He stepped into the small market a few minutes before they were set to close. The round face of the young woman at the counter broke into a smile.
“I have a lot of them.”
She couldn’t stop the blush that stained her neck. “I’m sure you do.”
He had a smart mouth, and Brigid wished she didn’t find it quite so appealing. She smoothed the very conservative grey slacks she’d worn and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear. Gone were the clashing colors and rows of earrings. Her hair was its natural dark brown. Her ears held only two piercings each, and her suit was plain and well tailored, fitting the office, the vampire across from her, and the organization she hoped to work in.
“Almost all the employees in my security department are immortal. Most of them are related to me in some way. I have very few outsiders here, and I’ll be quite honest, despite your connections—which are the only reason I’m considering you—I will not trust you until I know you better.”
“That’s perfectly understandable, sir.”
He narrowed his eyes and examined her as she sat across from him, still as a vampire. “As I said, most of my security is vampire, except for Angie. Obviously, this presents some challenges. How proficient are you on the computer?”
“I’m no expert, but I’m very computer-literate, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“That’s all I need. I have my own sources for other kinds of information.”
She nodded. “It shouldn’t be a problem, then, and I’m a very fast learner.”
“Are you?”
“I am.”
“Good. And of course, you won’t burn up in sunlight, which also has obvious advantages.”
She smiled. “True.”
He paused for a moment, staring at her intently as his hands steepled on the desk in front of him. “The drugs problem is growing worse in Dublin. To a certain extent, this does not concern me.” He must have caught the stiffening of her shoulders. “Not that drug use isn’t a concern to all citizens, but for the most part, the mortal authorities are equipped to deal with it. Only rarely does it interfere with those under my aegis or those in my territories.”
Her voice was quiet when she asked, “Are you sure about that?”
Murphy arched an eyebrow at her, but continued. “As you may have guessed, the problem of drugs at Parliament House—which is in my territories—and the safety of its residents, has been of some concern considering developments over the past year. Further, the import problem does fall under my purview, as well.”
“Where is it coming from?”
“In Ireland, Brigid, almost everything arrives by boat. Especially drugs. I am a water vampire and the largest private holder of shipping interests in the country—not that the mortals are aware of it. The import of narcotics, and the criminal activity associated with such, has become something of a problem that overlaps with my own interests. Therefore, I have become involved, no matter how I may have wanted to avoid it.”
He fell silent, and Brigid forced herself to meet his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”
Murphy smiled. “You working for me could be beneficial to us both. You have knowledge about this problem you may not even realize you possess. But that also means you’ll have to be in contact with some of the elements you’ve tried very hard to distance yourself from. Is that something you can manage?”
Brigid thought about her old friends. Thought about the greedy glint in the eye of the boy she’d bought drugs from and the utter terror and pain of heroin withdrawal. Could she willingly put herself into that world again? Would she manage to resist the quick and easy promise of oblivion? If she could really help, she would.
“Depend on it. I’m in.” Murphy’s face was utterly blank. Brigid could hear the clock on the wall behind her ticking, but there was no electronic hum of a computer or ringing phones to distract her from his examination. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Did you have any other questions for me?”
He finally smiled and leaned toward her. “Would you like meet the team?”
Chapter Seven
Snowdonia, Wales
September 2007
“Hello, Father.”
Carwyn nodded at the older man who passed him on his way to the small market in town. Sister Maggie had run out of currants and asked him to pick up some more for the scones she was baking in the morning with the ladies at the church. Since the nights were finally getting longer again, he told her he’d enjoy the walk. If he stopped by the small pub in town for a pint… Well, she wasn’t baking that night, was she?
“Hello, Father Carwyn.” He smiled at the little girl and her mother who passed him.
“Noswaith dda.”
“Evening, Father.”
“How’s Sister Maggie, Father?”
The small village tucked into the hills of Northern Wales was a relic. The majority of his ancestral homeland had long ago abandoned the Roman church, but in the isolated mountain community, his old stone chapel still stood, faithful and enduring, and the people of the town were set in their traditions.
He brushed back the shaggy red hair that fell over his forehead. He still needed that haircut Maggie was pestering him about. A light rain fell and twinkled on the black coat he wore. Though he only wore clerical attire during formal occasions or mass these days, he still kept to a more muted wardrobe when he was home and working.
He stepped into the small market a few minutes before they were set to close. The round face of the young woman at the counter broke into a smile.
