Brigid fell silent. New drugs. New weapons. New enemies.

Things in Dublin had just become very, very interesting.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Vatican City

May 2012

Carwyn tugged on his collar as he walked down yet another lavish hallway. The timid priest in front of him glanced over his shoulder with a smile.

“Just down this corridor, Father.”

He grunted and tried not think unkindly of the young man who represented so much of what annoyed him about Rome. Soft. The city was soft. He wondered if the young priest had ever picked up a dying child who was lying in a gutter. Or cared for a human who smelled of disease. Had he ever prayed with a family who had just lost a loved one? He tried not to be judgmental, but it was difficult in a city known for its layers of complicated historical bureaucracy that separated its residents from the world. The Vatican was even isolated from the very city that surrounded it.

He hated Rome. “When did they change the offices?”

“I believe it was ten years ago.”

Ten years? Had it really been that long since he’d had to visit Arturo? The irritating Spaniard was probably grey-headed by now. To most, the office he was visiting was a small one that oversaw some of the more private finances of the papal household. The current Camerlengo was an old friend of Carwyn’s; they corresponded regularly. Officially, this was a friendly visit, and the stop by the Cardinal’s administration offices was merely a formality so his assistant could meet with him on some minor matter.

Unofficially, the priest Carwyn was meeting oversaw all “supernatural” members of the church.

Carwyn had no idea how many immortals there were in the world. He’d never really bothered trying to guess. He had even less of an idea how many identified as Catholic, but he imagined it was a fairly large percentage. After all, vampires liked to know what to expect, and few institutions were more predictable than the Roman Catholic Church. But he had no idea what the numbers were. Really, who cared?

Arturo Leon did.

The young priest gave a polite knock, ushered him through the door, then disappeared. Carwyn walked into the office of the assistant-vice-something or other in the office of the Camerlengo of the Holy Roman Church. The trim Spaniard rose to greet him behind an immaculate marble-topped desk. He held out a soft, manicured hand, which Carwyn took and considered crushing, just to be contrary. Arturo raised an amused eyebrow at him before he motioned to the seat across from him.

“Thank you for visiting with me before your meeting with the Camerlengo. I appreciate your time, Father.”

“And I appreciate dropping the pretenses, Arturo. We both know my meeting here is really with you. I’ll stop by for drinks with Raoul, but you’re the one I really need to speak to.”

The Spaniard had a confident manner and a trustworthy bearing. Salt-and-pepper hair was cut neatly around a pleasant, though not particularly attractive, face. His eyes were hooded in a lazy expression that belied the brilliant mind behind them. No one really spent that much time keeping notes on papal household expenditures. Arturo dealt in far more valuable currency than gold. The priest dealt in information, and no one was better at obtaining it, in Carwyn’s experience.

“Oh?” Arturo said with forced innocence. “Whatever could I help you with, Carwyn? My previous requests for your help obtaining information—”

“I’m not one of your spies, Arturo.”

“Simple requests for information do not constitute spying.”

“Nothing is simple in my world.”

“It’s the same world I live in, Father. I just don’t have fangs.” Carwyn glared at Arturo until the formal mask dropped. “Fine,” the Vatican official said. “You’re leaving the church. Am I supposed to be surprised now?”

Carwyn forced his face to remain blank. “I am.” The Spanish priest remained silent until Carwyn spoke again. “How did you—?”

“The signs have been there for years, Welshman.” Arturo just sounded bored. “You had become peripherally involved with too many other things. Which is understandable, but not conducive to active church ministry. Further, I believe that certain conflicts of interest have arisen between your duties as head of a large immortal clan and your vows to the church.” The priest’s eyes flickered with interest. “Your… actions in France regarding the death of two young men—”

“The two vampires who murdered my child?” Carwyn bit out. “Those two?”

Arturo gave Carwyn a lazy shrug. “Do you think I was condemning your actions? I know nothing for certain, only rumors.” Arturo leaned forward with a predatory stare. “After all, I highly doubt a priest of your age and faith would have given a boy absolution, then stood by while he was executed. Not when you could have stopped it.” The lazy black eyes glittered with interest. “After all, you know the Church’s position on capital punishment.”

A position untenable in the immortal world. “Of course I do.”

“I am merely mentioning this because it is not without precedent that an immortal priest of your age and position has conflicting interests. Interests that might keep him from being completely loyal to the Church. Leaving at this point may be the wisest course. For you.”

Carwyn examined the man across from him. Arturo was angling for something. Normally, a priest abandoning his vows was a matter met with counsel. Prayers were offered and received. Carwyn had expected to face weeks of careful and concerned faces who would try to dissuade him from leaving his calling.