Free Building From Ashes by Elizabeth Hunter Page B

calm, and her palms were not even damp. After months of Anne’s unique therapy, which combined traditional counseling with the targeted use of vampire amnis to treat certain symptoms, Brigid finally felt as if she was in control of her reactions for the first time in her life. She no longer felt an instinctive aversion to touch and she was far more comfortable in social situations. She had feared, prior to her return, that being back in Dublin would cause her to relapse, but so far, none had occurred.
    She took a seat and started to page through one of the local newspapers that lay neatly on the table, but as soon as she picked up the first one, the door opened.
    “Brigid Connor?” The tall vampire had a blank expression as he looked her over. Other than his height, he was very average looking. Average brown hair. Average brown eyes. Pale, unlined skin marked him as an immortal, and his canny eyes scanned her for any detectable threat. She rose quickly.
    “I am.”
    “Murphy is ready for you. Please, come with me.”
    She walked ahead of him through the doors, but paused before she ran into the second set of doors. The vampire smiled almost imperceptibly.
    “All of his offices are light-proof, of course.”
    “Of course.”
    The vampire fitted a key in a lock, then drew a stylus from around his neck and punched in a code on a keypad above the lock. He caught her glance and smiled again. “The passcode changes every night. Just in case you were curious.”
    She blinked. “I—I’m not. I’m just not used to most vampires using electronics and such.”
    He gave a low chuckle. “The ones who work for Murphy do.”
    Brigid heard a small buzz, then he pushed the door open and entered. Beyond the door was another office that looked like any rich executive’s welcome desk. An efficient-looking human woman worked behind a computer, glancing up with interest. She lifted the half-moon glasses she’d been wearing and tucked a lock of her smooth silver hair behind her ear. “Murphy’s ten o’clock?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” The vampire’s voice held a hint of a tease, and Brigid looked up to see humor lighting his face. The secretary scowled.
    “ Ma’am me, you impudent lad. You’re a hundred years older than me, and you know it.”
    “And yet you still call me a lad, Angie. I must be living right.”
    Angie rolled her eyes at him, but stood and offered Brigid a hand. “I’m Angela McKee, Miss Connor. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Ignore Declan. Work here long enough, and he’ll start teasing you about your age, too. You’ll rue the day your first wrinkle appears, for you’ll hear no end of it from these lads.”
    Brigid thought she might just like working with the older woman, who was, she had to confess, one of the most handsome women she’d ever seen, no matter what Declan teased. She glanced over at the tall vampire, very obviously looking him over. “Well, Ms. McKee. I wouldn’t take much heed of him. He’s stuck with that unfortunate face for eternity, isn’t he? At least we can shove off after eighty or ninety years.”
    The formerly plain face of her escort broke into a charming grin as he joined Angie laughing. Just then, Brigid heard a door crack open, and she looked over her shoulder.
    “You must be Brigid Connor. I was warned about that mouth.”
    She’d heard a lot about Patrick Murphy in the past ten years, first in Wicklow, but more at school. The girls in Parliament House had treated him with a kind of awe only shown toward movie stars. He was rich, powerful, and appeared to have been frozen in time around thirty years of age. Rumor had it, he still enjoyed a hardy bout of bare-knuckle boxing with his cadre of security guards and employees. And first time Brigid saw him, face-to-face, she thanked God and all the saints that he was a vampire. Because permanently marring that incredible face with a bloody fist would have been a crime against heaven, she was sure of it.
    She tried to look cool