Well, it wasn’t as good as the real thing, but maybe it would make her feel a bit better about the endless night. Wasn’t there some depression you could get from not enough sun? How did vampires combat that? She’d have to remember to ask Anne. She sure as hell didn’t need any more depression.

“Brigid!” Tavish’s shout came from the hall a moment before he pounded on the door. “You’ve a package. Eat something, then come help me with the sheep.”

She opened the door, but he’d already left. A small package lay on the floor in front of her room. Deirdre? Anne? She picked it up and looked at the return address.

Chile, S.A.

She spun and slammed the door shut, immediately forgetting about both the blood she hungered for and the wandering sheep. Madoc whined in excitement and sniffed the package, as if he could smell the traces of his master in the brown paper she tore from the small box. Inside was a simple white envelope and red box with Spanish writing she couldn’t decipher. She opened the envelope, and tears welled at the corner of her eyes as she read:

‘Just in case you miss the sun.’

She swallowed the lump in her throat and opened the box. Nestled under tissue paper was a mass of bright colors. Red, blue, green, yellow, purple. She pulled the silk scarf from the box and held it against her cheek.

It was soft and silly. Flamboyant. She could see him picking it out with a mischievous grin on his face or a laugh.

Brigid would never wear something so frivolous. She wore dark colors. Sensible fabrics. If he had been in the room, she probably would have rolled her eyes as he teased her.

But Carwyn was nowhere in sight, so she wound the scarf around her neck and lifted the ends to cover her eyes. Then Brigid lay back on the bed, opened her eyes, and looked into the brilliant blooming night.

Chapter Seventeen

The Atlantic Ocean

May 2011

Carwyn stretched out as much as he could on the small bed as he crossed the Atlantic, wondering why, exactly, his children had decided to live in such inconvenient places. As much as he traveled, he still hated it every time. Unless he could tunnel under the earth as God intended earth vampires to do, travel was something he only ever put up with.

Air vampires could fly once they had grown old enough; one hundred years or so was common. Water vampires, obviously, were comfortable crossing even vast oceans with their elemental strength. Fire vampires could bully their way into any passage they preferred, as long as it didn’t involve too much electricity.

But earth vampires, being the most domestic of the four elements, tended to stay near their homes in remote places. When they had to travel, large sun-shielded vessels like the freighter were their best option. This one belonged to his son-in-law in London, Gemma’s husband, a water vampire who did large amounts of trade between Europe and the Americas. Terrance Ramsay—eager to take advantage of his wife’s connections—happily loaned Carwyn any room he asked for. Terry’s generosity allowed Carwyn the opportunity to travel wherever he needed, though he would never enjoy being on the water.

It was the most vulnerable position for any earth vampire. Surrounded by vast amounts of water, Carwyn was still strong, but his amnis was dampened. Still, it was the only option, and he needed to get back to Britain. For… lots of reasons.

“It is not a sin to want someone to walk through eternity by your side.”

“It is if you’re a priest!”

“Do you really believe that?”

His conversation with Isabel had haunted his thoughts for months. He tried to distract himself in the notes he had taken from Beatrice. She had made notes about the effect of Geber’s elixir of life, the ancient formula that sounded more and more like the drug Ioan may have been thinking of. The more he learned of it, the more his suspicions grew.

‘Human subjects who had taken the elixir—most on the verge of death—showed improvement within hours of taking it. Their color and appetite returned within days. In the single vampire trial, the immortal subject who drank from an elixired human showed evidence of increased strength, a surge of elemental ability, and no evidence of further hunger for human or animal blood. In the year of observation, the only negative side effect seemed to be a slight increase in necessary sleep.’

Increased strength. Stronger amnis. No bloodlust.

Was it possible?

It seemed more like the performance-enhancing drugs that professional athletes used than the oblivion-producing drugs that humans favored. And while oblivion was actually something that many immortals craved after hundreds or thousands of years, his kind lived in a dangerous world. A world fueled by webs of alliances and power. A world where the strongest and richest really did survive the longest. This elixir—if it did what it promised—would be very, very attractive to those seeking power and control.

Carwyn had always steered clear of politics. He took care of his own; that was all he wanted. And though he had always been a man of God, he was the head of his clan, as well. His singular desire in increasing his strength and guarding his reputation was to protect those who belonged to him.

Carwyn closed his eyes and thought. A vampire drug. It had been exactly what Ioan had feared, a drug added to human blood that could affect vampires. But this drug wouldn’t weaken the immortals who drank it. In fact, it would seem like a miracle. Health for the human. Strength for the vampire. What was the downside?

There was always a downside.

Cardiff, Wales

May 2011

“Hugh?”

Carwyn poked his head through the old priest’s door. The old man was sitting curled over his writing desk, his simple black pants and neatly pressed shirt showing signs of both wear and age.