Building From Ashes Read online

  County Wicklow, Ireland

  December 1996

  She rarely slept lying down. There was a shivering kind of weakness that enveloped her bones at the idea of being prone. She was indulged in her aunt’s home, surrounded by strange beings who never grew older; Brigid had come to understand the pleasant-faced monsters were both frightening and kind. Her Aunt Sinead, after whisking her away from her childhood home, never spoke of her mother or stepfather again.

  Brigid had only faint memories of her aunt from her younger years. A visit for tea. A stuffed rabbit that had been put on a shelf out of her reach. Promises of visits in the country that Brigid knew her stepfather would never allow. After Brigid was taken from Dublin, no one mentioned her past life again. And Brigid did not ask. It was as if she had been reborn in the mountains the morning she woke curled into her aunt’s side.

  But still, she could not rest peacefully.

  So, the small girl with the dark hair and the haunted eyes took refuge in the library where the doctor worked. She curled into a corner by the fire, and the kind monster, whom she came to know as her protector, smiled at her and turned back to his books. He never approached her when she drifted in the warm room; he brushed away those who tried to take her to the bed she would not sleep in.

  For the first year, she lived at Ioan and Deirdre’s home in the mountains. Brigid slept in a corner of the library couch, leaning upright in the small alcove, ready to wake at the slightest sense of alarm.

  “What do you like to read?”

  She looked up, blinking. The doctor was kneeling in front of her by the fire, and she wondered how he had managed to approach her without her senses alerting her to his presence.

  “What am I allowed to read?”

  Ioan, son of Carwyn, sat back on his heels and frowned a little. “Well, that’s an excellent question. I suppose I have things in the library that are not suitable for a child, so—”

  “Like what?” She sat up straighter, not realizing she had interrupted one of the most powerful earth vampires in the Western world.

  Ioan’s eyes twinkled with delight. “Oh, I have… dangerous books here.”

  “What kind of dangerous books?” Brigid bit her lip and leaned forward.

  “Well, there are tales of gods and rebellions. Nothing suitable for a little girl, I don’t suppose. There are some fairy tales—”

  “I don’t like princess stories.”

  He shrugged. “I’m not a fan of them, either. But I’m not talking about princesses.”

  She scooted forward. “Well, I want to read them.”

  Ioan sighed. “I don’t know. They’re quite dangerous.”

  Brigid straightened her back and looked at him. “I’m very brave, you know. I never cry.”

  Ioan looked down into the face of the wounded child who never knew she was a child. She only understood years later the shadow that fell over his eyes.

  “I know, Brigid. I know you’re very brave.”

  So Brigid Connor was introduced to myths and legends, dark fairytales and stories of fantasy. While her aunt might have clucked at the Grimm, Carroll, and MacDonald he gave her, the Poe and Tolkien she devoured, Ioan brushed them away. Ever her protector, the doctor understood the slim girl needed the dark and twisted stories that made her feel not quite as alone when she read them. And it was into these stories that Brigid would fall, over and over again, as she grew into a young woman in the house dug into the mountains of Wicklow.

  And yet, despite the loving acceptance she found in her protector’s library, despite the warm embrace of her aunt and the gentle guidance of the immortal family she grew to love, Brigid came to understand the shadow in Ioan’s eyes that never seemed to leave. Brigid understood, because it mirrored her own.

  Wicklow, Ireland

  October 1999

  Ioan stared at the doorway. “The child is so troubled, Carwyn. I don’t know what to do about it.”

  They spoke in Welsh, seeking what anonymity they could in the crowded house while Ioan’s wife, Deirdre, Sinead, and the girl had a shouting match down the hall.

  Carwyn shrugged. “Part of your problem is calling her a child. She isn’t one. She hasn’t been in a long time.”

  “She is a child. Just a wounded one.”

  “Surely you’ve had experience with victims of abuse? You’ve practiced medicine for over three hundred years, Ioan.”

  Carwyn watched his son in the library of his home. Ioan was troubled and, for the first time in many years, Carwyn was at a loss to help him. With eleven immortal children of his own, he knew the pain of seeing a family member struggle. The girl, as a member of Ioan’s household, had fallen under vampire aegis as soon as she had entered. In the immortal world, that meant Ioan was responsible for her, both for her actions and her safety. But Carwyn knew the girl was also precious to his oldest son, and there was no greater challenge than to see a loved one struggle with no way to help.

  Just then, he heard her, the girl’s voice dripping with adolescent condescension. Ioan winced and Carwyn tried not to laugh. “Behavior problems?”

  “Well, obviously. But she’s anxious. She hardly sleeps. Doesn’t like to be touched by anyone.”

  A low, burning rage filled his chest. Carwyn would never forget seeing the monster hovering over the girl in her bedroom. His fingers dug into the oak chair at the memories even years later. He could feel the energy of the mountain humming around him. The library sat at the back of the farmhouse, dug into the side of the hill and sheltered completely from the dangerous sun.

  “What ever happened to the mother?”

  “You’re generous to use that title, considering.”

  When Sinead had learned of the abuse from the girl’s mother, drunk and desperate, Ioan and his mate, Deirdre, had taken immediate action. Carwyn had only happened to be visiting at the time from his home in Wales. They had taken the girl and tried to take the mother.

  “Sinead tried to convince her, but she wouldn’t leave. I used amnis to alter her memories. She’s never come looking for the girl.”

  Carwyn shook his head, disgusted with those who foolishly threw away the treasure of kin. The shouting between the women grew as the argument moved through the farmhouse. Apparently, the choice of paint in the girl’s bedroom was at issue.

  Ioan sighed. “The problem is not in her body. There is no sickness I can cure. Her wounds are emotional, not physical.” He paused. “What would the church say?”

  “Not enough,” Carwyn murmured bitterly, well aware of the failings of his hierarchy in dealing with its own demons.

  “Would you talk with her? Father Jacob is a fine man, but his wisdom is limited.”

  “I don’t think she needs a priest, Ioan. To tell the truth, I’d not be able to minister to her anyway.”

  “Why not?”

  A crashing came from overhead, along with an impressive string of insults about the color yellow. Carwyn stifled a smile. “I killed her stepfather in front of her, Ioan. Hardly the one to help her when I was partly the cause of her trauma. Even now when I visit, I see the guarded way she looks at me. I don’t blame the girl, but it’s not my place to be her confessor.”

  “I think you mistake her feelings. Brigid knows that we protected her. She has no regret for Richard Kelly’s death. She’s—”

  Ioan broke off when Deirdre’s voice rose from the kitchen. Carwyn snorted. It sounded like Deirdre may have met her match in the young human.

  “Well, she certainly doesn’t seem to be the timid type.”

  “Quite the vicious little thing, to be honest,” Ioan muttered. “She can be rather cruel when she wants to wound.”

  The two vampires paused to listen to the women shouting, and Ioan couldn’t contain the smirk at the girl’s sharp retort to his wife and his housekeeper. Carwyn reluctantly admired the imaginative nature of the curses. She’d go to confession for them, he’d bet, but she wouldn’t really repent.

  Ioan said, “She’s very int
elligent. Frighteningly so at times. She’s stifled here, but I can’t persuade Sinead to let her go to school. And, to be honest, I understand her reluctance. Without our guidance, I have a feeling the girl would go quite wild.”

  “You can’t keep her here forever. Well, some of our kind might, but not our family.”

  “She’s only fourteen. We have time.”

  “Not much.”

  “I know.”

  “Have you tried to use amnis? To take the edge off the worst of the memories?”

  “She’s… resistant to any mental manipulation. Our best guess is from about age eight or so. So two years of abuse at the hands of her stepfather? I doubt amnis would be able to touch anything but the surface. I’ve been able to relieve the worst of her anxiety so she can function, but it’s not enough.”

  Carwyn straightened in his chair and reached over to pat his son’s shoulder. “Get the girl the help she needs. Call Anne if you need to; she’ll be discreet. I know you don’t want to appear weak with a human under your aegis, but there’s no shame in seeking help when you don’t have the answers.”

  “I know.” Ioan nodded. “I will. I promise.”

  “Good.” Carwyn smiled as he looked at his softhearted child. As long as Ioan had existed, there was still not a human he encountered he didn’t want to help in some way. It was his gift and his burden. “Brigid may not be a child of your blood, but she is the child of your heart. You’ll find a way to help her; I know it.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tad.”

  Carwyn chuckled to hear the childish endearment. “Oh, it’s always easier to put confidence in others instead of yourself.”

  “True. When are you off to America?”

  Carwyn grinned. The vampire was still a priest for his small village in Wales, along with being the head of one of the largest clans of earth vampires on the globe. Though most of his children remained in Britain, his influence and counsel was sought through much of Europe and the Americas on a regular basis. A true vacation for the busy vampire was long overdue.

  “I’ll leave in November and stay for a few months. I haven’t had a proper visit with Giovanni in years.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Atlanta, Georgia.” He imitated a drawl so bad that Ioan turned red in the face from laughter. “But he’s talking about moving to Texas.”

  “Texas?” Ioan said. “I’m having a hard time picturing the Italian in a cowboy hat.”

  “I’m not. It’s been good for a laugh more than once.”

  “You’ll enjoy the warm weather. Take things a bit easier. You’ve too many responsibilities here.”

  Carwyn stood. “The joy and headache of children, my son. But I’m definitely looking forward to a bit of a break.”

  “You’re packing all your hideous Hawaiian shirts, aren’t you?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve even bought some new ones especially for the visit.”

  Ioan winced. “Try not to get into too much trouble.”

  “Who, me? Never.”

  “That’s what you always say.”

  “And I’m right… fifty percent of the time.”

  Ioan squinted. “Closer to twenty-five.”

  “Pessimist.”

  “Realist.”

  They turned to leave the library, only to be almost bowled over by the indignant form of Brigid Connor as she rushed in. She glanced at both of them with a curled lip before she rushed over to the bookcase, grabbed a volume, then quickly exited the room, barely sparing them a glance.

  Ioan sighed. “Radcliffe. Lovely, she’s feeling gothic. Should make for lively dinner conversation.”

  Carwyn slapped Ioan on the shoulder. “Feel the love, son.”

  Chapter Two

  Dublin, Ireland

  September 2004

  “Hello?”

  Brigid started when she heard the knock on the door of her rooms. Though the bustle of Parliament Street seeped in through the windows, it was the first interruption she’d faced since her Aunt Sinead and Ioan had dropped her off at the secured building in Dublin city center the night before.

  “Hello?” The friendly female voice came again, along with another polite knock.

  She looked around at the jumble of boxes and hangers that lay around the room before she walked to the door and cracked it open.

  “Can I help you?”

  A pair of bright blue eyes met her amber-brown ones. The girl’s face was open and friendly, a marked contrast to the wary expression Brigid knew she habitually wore. She looked to be the same age as Brigid, but wore bright colors and her light brown hair was pulled into a cheerful ponytail. The girl stuck out her hand.

  “I’m Emily. I’m your neighbor next door.”

  “Oh.” Brigid looked down at the offered hand for a moment, tucking a chunk of dark purple hair behind her ear, before she quashed the instinctive leap of anxiety and held out her own. “Brigid Connor. I’m—”

  “From Wicklow, I heard.” Emily smiled some more and looked at the door that Brigid was guarding. She bit the inside of her lip and forced a smile at the friendly girl. “I have to say, you don’t look like your average country girl. But that’s cool.”

  “Right. Um… thanks?”

  Natural, safe interactions, Brigid. The comforting voice of her counselor whispered at the back of her mind. Safe interactions in a comfortable environment. On your terms. Always your terms. You are in control.

  Brigid took a deep breath and opened the door. The human girl was no threat. As she stepped through the door, Brigid noticed her soft appearance and relaxed demeanor. Just a girl. A friendly girl. This was why she had forced herself away from the comfort of the mountains and into the city for school.

  “I like your flat! This is one of the biggest in the building, you know?”

  She didn’t know, but she wasn’t surprised. Ioan and Deirdre never failed to give her whatever she asked for, and she’d wanted as much privacy as possible in the crowded apartment building. “I didn’t. But, I like my own space, so my—um, family indulges my weirdness.”

  Emily cleared a pile of hangars from a chair and sat down. “It’s okay. Everyone here has their own vampires, so you don’t have to hide anything.”

  Finally, a small smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I’d heard.”

  “The whole building. That’s why we’re all together. They say it’s for our own security as humans under vampire aegis, blah, blah, blah, but really”—Emily winked—“it’s so they can keep an eye on us. This floor is all students, and the one above us, too. The lower floors are mostly Murphy’s people. Very secure, which thrills Mum and Dad.”

  As Emily chattered on, Brigid returned to unpacking. Emily mentioned Murphy again, with the fluttering awe that Brigid had come to expect from any of the girls who knew of him. Patrick Murphy was a water vampire and the unchallenged immortal leader of Dublin. Though he was fairly young, he had an excellent reputation and a healthy respect for Deirdre and Ioan’s power, which was the only reason they’d allowed Brigid to come to Dublin. Brigid had met Murphy on more than one occasion when he came to Wicklow to consult with her family on some matter. When Brigid was ready for school, Dublin was the only place any of them even considered.

  Because of the city’s popularity with young people, Murphy had set up a safe house of sorts for humans in the city center. Human members of vampire clans came from all over the world to attend school or live there, safe in the knowledge that they could be among peers they wouldn’t have to hide from. The house on Parliament Street, though it looked like an old hotel from the outside, was centrally located to the city center, within easy walking distance of most public transport, and very, very secure.

  Brigid cleared her throat. “So, are you… do you…?” Though all of Ioan and Deirdre’s clan drank animal blood as a habit, Brigid knew how it worked. Murphy would keep healthy, paid blood donors somewhere in the building to feed his staff and others whom he was responsible for. Tha
t was how civilized vampires all over the world ran their households. Or so she’d been taught. But how did one go about asking that question politely?

  Emily smiled. “My mum and dad both work for Murphy—have my whole life—so this was the only option for me. But I think we’re to share a car for school.”

  “Oh?”

  “Most of the students here attend Trinity.” She rolled her eyes. “Tradition, tradition. But I’m for UCD like you. I love the campus there. It’s so new.”

  University College Dublin had always been Brigid’s goal, but she knew it was more common for humans under aegis to go to Trinity. The handsome buildings and historic traditions of the oldest university in Ireland appealed to the age and character of most vampires, so their humans were encouraged to attend the school. There were even a few vampire professors, she had heard.

  “So, how about you?”

  “Hmm?” Brigid was standing in the middle of the room, holding a hangar in front of her like a shield. She had been pressing and hanging her wardrobe before she’d heard the knock. She carefully set the hangar down on the coffee table and sat across from Emily.

  “Why are you going to UCD?” Emily asked. “Sports fan?”

  “No, no. I… uh.” She smiled stiffly. “I want to study criminal justice and forensic science. I like the program there. That’s why I chose it. I’m not really one for much sport.”

  Emily grinned and her eyes swept over the room. “Now, why don’t I find that a surprise?”

  Brigid’s dark wardrobe and prized collection of vintage concert shirts was piled in one corner. The walls, per her demand, had been painted a comforting dark grey, and Deirdre and Sinead had helped her pick out a black chair and a grey sofa to go in the small sitting area.

  Brigid couldn’t help but compare her cave with Emily’s bright summer clothes and pink-painted fingernails. Her room was probably baby blue or summer yellow.

  “So…” Brigid wiped her hands on her knees. She was doing well, she thought. She had a complete stranger—a safe-looking one—in her room, and she was fine. “Do you want some tea? I was just about to grab some.”