Brigid forced herself to see through the wash of memories. The next canvas was cooler, and instead of fire filling the space around her, there was color. Washes of indistinct color with no shape or sense, filling all the space the fire had burned away. The girl in the center of the canvas had her eyes closed. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she was floating in a sea of color. But the creases around her eyes were smooth again. The cuts and scrapes were healed. The face was softer.
The final canvas brought tears to Brigid’s eyes. The eyes were open, soft and welcoming to the world. Full of cautious hope. In the space surrounding the hope, images of flowers and front stoops, vines curling around broken doors, binding them and covering them with verdant life.
“Do you like it?”
Brigid glanced over to see Adriana Guzman, her hair clipped in short tousled waves that hid her eyes. She was standing next to Brigid, watching her examine the paintings.
“It’s brilliant.” Brigid reached over, careful to warm her hand, and squeezed the young woman’s arm quickly before she dropped it. “It’s feckin’ brilliant. Well done.”
“I remember the fire.” Adriana frowned a little. “That chemical fire in the factory that night.”
Chemical… Oh right. “Yes, the chemical fire.” Brigid remembered the very short screams of some very bad men. The fire department had believed their story. Mostly.
Adriana continued. “I remember thinking that it was almost as if it followed you. Like it had a mind of its own. It flared up and then it was gone so quickly, and they were all gone.”
It did follow me. And I burned every one of those evil bastards who hurt you.
“Fire, you know…” Brigid stared at the middle painting and felt her amnis ripple under her skin. It was the immortal energy that animated her and kept her alive; it was also the tie between her mind, her body, and the element she was learning to command. “Fire is a curious thing.”
“I used to dream about the flames just…” Adriana turned her hand in a circular motion. “…rolling over me, you know? Taking me with them. And I’d just be gone.”
“Fuck no! What a waste that would have been.” Brigid looked around the room. “Yer so bloody talented—I’d give my right arm to be able to make anything this grand.” Thoughts of craving oblivion were hardly new to Brigid, so the confession didn’t surprise her, but she was surprised by how violently her mind revolted at the thought.
Adriana’s cautious face broke into a wide smile. “Thanks. And thanks for coming tonight. I really wanted you to see…” She looked around the room. “Just… more than what you saw before, I guess.”
“…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.”
“Thank you for inviting us.” Brigid looked around for Carwyn’s tall profile. “Fair warning, my man’s likely to eat all the fancy food if you’ve left anything out.”
“My mom’s catering company did the spread tonight, so I think she probably took Carwyn into account.”
“Good thinking.” Brigid nudged Adriana toward her family. “Tell me a bit about this school then. Hope yer not paying too much, ’cause yer already fucking good.”
Adriana just laughed.
Brigid leaned against Carwyn in the back of the car. They’d both completely forgotten about safety belts. Thankfully, so had their driver.
“You were right,” she said. “It’s good we came.”
“I know.” His hand played with her knuckles. “You’re good at protecting people, Brigid.”
She kept her eyes closed and luxuriated in his quiet attention. “That’s my job.”
“You protect powerful people.”
“Powerful people have powerful enemies.”
“And sometimes ordinary people have powerful enemies too.”
She frowned and opened her eyes, looking over her shoulder. “What are you getting at?”
“I’ve been thinking… we shouldn’t go back to Dublin.” Carwyn drummed his fingers on his knee. “I think you should quit your job.”
Chapter Three
The Dancing Bear was a human bar in the theater district with a high tolerance for vampires. At least that was the impression Carwyn had when they first entered the cozy pub with red velvet booths, heavy green drapes, and theater-themed art on the walls.
It was a carnival of odd characters, and if Carwyn had been younger, he would have been hard-pressed to pick out his own kind among the kaleidoscope of humanity on display at two in the morning. There were humans in Goth makeup and vampires in period clothing. There were even humans and vampires who’d made body paint a feature of their evening couture.
The Dancing Bear was a bit of everything that made up New York, which meant a bit of everything in the world. In other words, it was an absolute delight and Carwyn’s new favorite place to hang out.
Plus there was no mistaking the vampire behind the bar.
“Gavin.” Carwyn leaned on the scarred stretch of oak. “Not your usual type of place.”
Gavin Wallace was the owner of dozens of vampire clubs and restaurants around the globe, all of which were neutral territory for their kind. There was no feeding allowed, except from designated donors, and absolutely no violence. Usually Gavin’s places felt subdued and serious.
The Dancing Bear?
Gavin set a short glass in front of Carwyn and filled it halfway with clear gold whisky. “You’ll be honored to know that I bought it for Chloe but I named it after you.”
Carwyn threw his head back and laughed. “I like you more since you met her.”
The corner of Gavin’s mouth turned up. “I like you more since I met her, as well.”
Gavin, like so many of their kind, had fallen for an extraordinary human. Chloe was a dancer, a budding choreographer, and an old friend who was currently sitting with Carwyn’s wife and an even older friend who was playing host to them while they were in the city.
“How long are you in New York?” Gavin asked, sipping his own drink as Carwyn lifted his. “Sláinte.” He clinked Carwyn’s glass. “Your business is finished, isn’t it? You catching a slow boat back to Dublin soon?”
“Not if I can convince that one to quit her job.” Carwyn nodded toward the booth where Brigid, Chloe, and their friend Tenzin were sharing a bottle of wine.
Gavin raised a curious eyebrow. “I didn’t know Brigid was looking for a change.”
“She’s not. I am.” Carwyn sipped his scotch. “She’s outgrown him.”
“Murphy?” Gavin shrugged. “Everyone knows that one of the reasons Ireland is so stable is that Brigid Fucking Connor will incinerate anyone who irritates Patrick Murphy.”
“Well, that’s not precisely true. I irritate Murphy regularly, and she only occasionally tries to incinerate me.”
Gavin smirked. “Still. It’s allowed a flourishing vampire tech industry for the first time in history. You want to risk that?”
“Murphy would be risking nothing. The connection is still there. I still have family there. The security office she’s established isn’t moving, and it operates independent of her. Why do you think we’re gone so much as it is?”