Building From Ashes
Page 33

Suddenly, Deirdre rushed into the room. “Brigid’s on the phone in the kitchen, Ioan. She has a question of some sort.”
Ioan shot a quick wink to him and slipped out the door. Carwyn picked up his book and resisted the urge to follow him. Deirdre sat down next to him and looked at his book. “What are you reading?”
“I have no idea,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. “What does that woman do in Dublin?”
“Who, Brigid?”
“Yes.”
Deirdre shrugged. “I’m not sure of all of it, to be honest. Research. Day-person type of things. And she helps question the humans.”
“Why?”
“You know how odd humans are. She understands them better than our sort. Knows the right questions. She’s young. Has some experience in the drug world, unfortunately. At least she’s putting it to use.” He could tell Deirdre was concerned, but trying to hide it. “She likes it. And Murphy knows if she gets hurt, he’ll have hell to pay.”
Carwyn stared into the fire. Thoughts of dark alleys and vicious, long fangs swirled in his mind. Then, the vision turned, and suddenly it was Brigid’s slender neck he saw. But the gasp he imagined was not one of fear. And the mouth that closed over her neck was… He shook his head.
“I’m on my way back home in a few days. I’ll catch the boat from Dublin. Maybe I should meet her for a drink. Just to check up on her, you know?”
He could see Deirdre’s eyes relax at the corners. “That would be good. I know… I know how responsible she is. And we’ve never had any hint that she’s using again. Still, she’s back in that world again, and I worry.”
Carwyn threw an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t. I’ll check on her. I’ll make sure everything’s safe.”
“Thanks, Father.”
Dublin, Ireland
There was a wry smile on her face when she entered the Ha’Penny Bridge Inn and slid into the booth across from him.
“Feeling sentimental? Or wanting to remind me of my sordid past?” she asked, but didn’t truly seem annoyed.
“I like the beer here.”
“You can get Guinness anywhere, Carwyn.”
“True, I suppose. Drink?”
“Sure.” She shrugged. “Whatever you’re having.”
He stood and walked to the bar. In truth, he couldn’t pass the pub in Dublin anymore without thinking of her. She looked good. Healthy. Her skin was fair, but she looked like she’d been getting some sun. Her hair was still a natural dark brown with no purple streaks in sight, but she was back wearing jeans and an old T-shirt with The Clash on the front instead of her stiff, professional wardrobe.
He ordered two drinks and walked back to the bar, sliding the whiskey toward her. Her eyes lit up, and he caught the smile.
“You’re a contrary one, aren’t you?” she said.
“I thought you liked whiskey.”
Her smile broadened. Still no laugh.
“I do. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. How’s life?”
There was an odd expression in her eyes. “Checking up on me again?”
He frowned. “No. Not… not like that. I was just a bit worried—”
“You were worried about me?”
Yes. “Deirdre and Ioan were worried. And I was, too, of course. Not about the drugs or anything, just life. I know you’re doing the security work for Murphy now.”
She nodded silently, then took a sip of her drink. An odd smile crossed her face, and he frowned. Humans still boggled his mind at times. What was the woman thinking with that smile on her face? She almost looked disappointed. Did she have other plans that Friday night?
“You had plans, didn’t you?” he asked.
Her face reddened immediately, and he felt a quickening in his blood.
“No. No, I didn’t. I usually work weekends. That’s the most active time for… well, you know. Clubs. Parties. That kind of thing. I usually go with Jack, and we try to identify—”
“Who’s Jack?” He was surprised by the harshness of his voice. “Is that someone you work with?”
She curled her lip, and Carwyn felt his heart give a quiet thump.
“Unfortunately. He’s a pain in the arse, but he’s good protection. And he’s good-looking enough that any girls are easy marks for information. As for the men—”
“What men?”
She scowled at him. “Did Ioan and Deirdre say I was being irresponsible? I’m very careful, Carwyn. Very conscious of their position, and what it means to be given this job. I would never be irresponsible or see someone socially that would reflect poorly on them. So if you’re worried about that—”
“I’m—they’re worried about your safety, that’s all.” He leaned closer to her. “Ioan seemed to have some suspicion that whoever is responsible for the increase in drug use in Dublin might be immortal.”
She leaned across the table, propping her elbows on the edge of the scarred wood. He caught a hint of her scent. Dark, sweet. No hint of chemical remained. He took a deep breath. Then another.
“You know, it’s really creepy when your sort do the sniffing thing.”
He blinked. “What?”
She rolled her eyes, and his hand lifted immediately to her face. He put his large hand on her cheek and slid a thumb along the delicate ridge under her eyebrow. He could hear her breath catch.