Epilogue

Seward, Alaska

Brigid sat at the old man's bedside, watching his eyes flicker behind his lids as he dreamed. She was wearing heavy sweatpants, an oversized T-shirt that smelled of her husband, and her singed head was covered in a black cap pulled over her ears.

A nurse walked into the room, checking something on a chart before she glanced at Brigid. "You the one who brought him in?"

She looked up from staring at Walter's sleeping face. "No, that was a friend of mine."

"He sleeps a lot." The nurse looked up. "But he's doing better. I think he had family visiting today."

"Good." Brigid managed to crack a smile when she thought about a baby somewhere in the south. A baby who would grow up knowing one of the toughest men she'd ever known. "That's excellent news."

"He might not wake for a while." The nurse looked at her. This was a clinic that Oleg ran; the nurse knew what Brigid was. "Might not be until daylight."

"Then I'll come back tomorrow night." She would come back as often as it took to speak to Walter herself. "Or the next."

She had time.

The nurse glanced at the angry red wound on Brigid's hand where Zasha's sword had burned her palm. "You want me to take a look at that while you're waiting?"

"It's fine." She closed her fingers around the smooth scar.

Carwyn had given her blood. That burn was as healed as it was going to heal for now. The rest was just a matter of time.

"You family too?" The nurse looked at her, clearly suspicious of the pale Irish vampire waiting at the old man's bedside.

"Not family," Brigid said. "In fact, I don't really know him that well."

"But the boss said it was okay for you to wait?"

"Yeah." She looked back at Walter's sleeping face. "I'm here to give my report."

New York City

Tenzin stared at the wreckage of their penthouse. Though the majority of the rubble had already been cleaned up and their remaining belongings had been packed away in boxes in storage, it still felt like the aftermath of a battle.

She touched the edge of the scars that crawled up her neck, sliding the tips of her fingers over the smooth, swirling red marks that were evidence of the fire on Zasha's island.

Their insurance was rebuilding the top two floors of the building, including the roof garden that had been destroyed. Walls were already up, though they were bare, marked with pencil, and plaster dust was everywhere.

The basic layout would be the same. The windows and the alcove had already been built. They were adding a bathroom downstairs, along with another light-safe bedroom. The complete reconstruction would probably be done in another two months.

There was still no sign of Layah or Harun. If the little lovebirds had survived, they were not flying back.

In Tenzin's mind, she liked to imagine Harun heroically leading Layah through the storm and to the fire escape of a little grandmother in Washington Heights who would find the two birds and take them in. They would be pampered and cooed over, treated like the precious bright jewels they were.

Tenzin had made up many stories in her very long life. She decided she liked that one.

"No." Ben sat on the rebuilt steps that would lead out to the roof. "We don't need to sell it, but we should move on. At least for a while."

Tenzin had known Ben wouldn't want to stay. "Where?"

"Anywhere." He shrugged. "We've been in North America for a while. You want to be in Asia?"

She shook her head. "Politics are too complicated."

"Selfishly, I'd like to be somewhere back on the West Coast to stay near my sister since she's going to be an adult in five minutes or something," he said. "But I don't think we're very welcome in the Pacific Northwest right now."

Things in Katya's territory were definitely settled down, but there was still a lot of turmoil. She'd dug into Paulson's activities in more detail and discovered that while no one in her organization was directly involved in the hunts or Henri Paulson's silent attempt at a vampire coup, there were multiple vampires in her employ who had taken bribes to look the other way.

And there was still the issue of Oleg's creeping influence. His assistance in rounding up and identifying Paulson's shadow fleet in the Bering Sea and the North Atlantic was effective, but it was even more evidence that Katya's hold on the territory was not as secure as it had been a hundred years before.

All in all, it was an area that Ben and Tenzin wanted to avoid even if they had managed to stay above the politics. This time at least.

"The West Coast is big," Tenzin said. "And South America is an option too."

"That's still pretty far from Sadia." Ben narrowed his eyes. "What about Mexico?"

"What about it?"

"Who's the VIC in Mexico City these days? Do we know?"

"I don't know who it is right now, but it could be a relative of Ernesto's." Her eyebrows went up. "Ernesto Alvarez still likes us."

Ben nodded. "What do you say, Tiny? Want to go check out Mexico City and see what we think?"

"It's a quick flight to your aunt and uncle without being in their backyard." Tenzin nodded slowly. "Good art market," she muttered. "Nice museums."

"Tiny."

"What?" She blinked her eyes innocently. "To visit."

Ben smiled and stood up, walking over to her and taking her hand. "You never change."

"On the contrary, you make it a point to remind me nightly that I'm evolving." She looked around the room. "One thing that will remain unchanged is my sword collection. Which—thanks to it being metal and not canvas—was mostly undamaged by the fire."

Ben dropped her hand. "Really?"

"I'm just saying that paint and paper are less secure?—"

"My library was destroyed, and it feels like you're rubbing it in." He muttered, "I'm telling Giovanni."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She'd already been on the lookout for some new maps for him, but he didn't know that yet. "Gold, swords, and jewels are investments. That's all I'm saying."

He rolled his eyes but held out his hand. "Come on. Let's go to Gavin and Chloe's. I don't want to be here anymore."

She looked over her shoulder as they walked out onto the remains of the roof. "It will be beautiful again. You will love it here again."

"I know," he said quietly. "But right now I need to be somewhere new."

"Then let's go see our people." Tenzin took to the sky, waiting for him to catch up. "But you have to tell them we're leaving."

Cochamó Valley, Chile

Carwyn lay in bed next to Brigid, her whole body relaxed and limp against his. She was stretched on her side, her face halfway hidden in the pillow and the scars from Alaska softened by the white silk pillow where her head was resting.

It was nearly dusk, and he'd woken in the comfort of his bedroom at their family ranch in the Cochamó Valley. Located in a remote region of Chile, it was a sprawling family compound consisting of a large ranch house, numerous smaller dwellings, human and vampire relatives of all ages.

And a lot of sheep.

They'd arrived two days before after a leisurely journey through North America, a rousing romp through Mexico City, a quick trip through Central America, and finally down to the southern continent in their new, reinforced Winnebago camper van, which was ancient, rattling, and perfect.

More perfect were the luxurious sheets and enormous featherbed in their bedroom at his daughter's massive ranch.

Brigid stirred, the first sign of life since she'd fallen into sleep that morning. She twitched, and a small spark erupted on her arm.

Carwyn reached over and snuffed it out with the heavy fire blanket he'd taken to keeping by the bed. There was another fire blanket between the sheets and the featherbed and still more blankets and a couple of fire extinguishers near the door.

Since Zasha's island, Brigid's fire had been… more present in their life. It was hard to think of it as anything other than a very excited puppy that had finally been let out of the house to play.

For the first few weeks, his mate wouldn't even let him sleep next to her and had demanded that he hollow out a cave in the ground to make sure that nothing would ignite when she was sleeping.

Deep sleep never seemed to create a problem, but Carwyn had noticed that Brigid sparked a bit on waking. Luckily, he always woke before her, and Brigid's fire seemed to like Carwyn nearly as much as it liked Brigid.

In the years since her initial turning, Carwyn had always felt like Brigid's element was a wary ally in their corner, a weapon she carefully leashed and even more carefully guarded. Never too familiar. Never too common. Unlike the earth that he controlled, fire had always felt dangerous. Spiky and prickly, not unlike his Brigid.

But since the battle on the island, his mate had been filled with a peace that seemed to surprise her, and her fire had settled too. It was more present but less fearful. Less reactive and more a part of her nature.

There was a peace in his mate that he'd never seen before, and while none of her rough edges had disappeared, they might be just a little bit softer.

She took a deep breath and murmured his name. "Carwyn."

Carwyn smiled and traced a finger over her cheek. She turned in to his touch, her eyes flickering open, then closed again as she smiled.

"Good evening, darling girl."

"My fine man." She lifted her head and looked at him. "How long have you been awake?"

"Long enough to have a raging hard-on from looking at your arse." He planted one hand on her ample cheek.

"Such a romantic," she murmured. "Poetry just trips off your tongue."

"I know. You're such a lucky woman. Any dreams today?"

"Not a single one." She smiled. "Glorious."

Dreams had haunted her for the first few weeks, and her sleep—usually unshakable—had been restless and troubled.

She'd had visions of fire and had woken in the middle of the day screaming more than once, shaking away flames that were only in her mind. There was a bruised ache in her eyes and a haunted look.

Days passed. They left Alaska. They drove inland and spent time in the desert. She spent time with Lee, then with Natalie and Baojia. She called her friend Anne and had long sessions over video.

Carwyn knew she only needed time to heal from the battle, because every step she'd taken—every kill, every compromise—had been for the protection of the innocent.

He knew that, and eventually she'd realized it too.

Eventually he'd convinced her that while they didn't need to stop taking cases, they were due for a long and well-deserved rest.

"When we go to Bali and I keep you naked for several weeks" —he rolled her onto her back— "what food would you like me to stock up on?"

He began kissing down her body and let out a happy growl when he felt her fingers stroke through his hair. He was letting it grow, and it was getting to be more and more bearlike with every passing month. He was working toward a full reddish pelt while Brigid's hair was barely a pixie cut these days.

It suited her. He suited her.

Carwyn kissed down her body, teasing and tickling her the way he knew she loved. The only time he'd ever heard Brigid giggle was when he made her laugh in bed.

She loved him. She loved his great clumsy heart that fell in love with her, tripping over itself again and again, every time he caught a glimpse of her beautiful eyes or her pert nose. It fumbled like a clumsy oaf when her fangs dropped or her stern mouth hinted at the beginning of a smile.

She was a warrior, and he adored her. He'd spend eternity adoring her, and it wouldn't be anything but what she deserved.

Carwyn pressed a long kiss to the scar in the shape of a curled feather that had burned into the skin on her belly.

Oh, his fine woman. This soldier with the softest heart.

"I love you so much," she whispered.

He couldn't take any more. He crawled up her body, kissed her full on the mouth, and entered her, joining their bodies as if it was the first and the only and the always of what they were. It was every night they'd shared their amnis and every moment they'd made love.

He worshipped her with his body, coaxing her to climax before he flipped them over and wrung another cry of pleasure from her chest.

When he finally came, Carwyn felt the ground beneath him rock in response to the intense pleasure of her bite.

"You know." Brigid laid her head on his barrel chest and played with the fine red hair that ran from his navel to his groin. "This is why we're banished to the basement."

A belly laugh burst from him, and the ground shook with that pleasure too.

He smacked a kiss on the top of her head. "I like being in the basement."

Carwyn had dug out their room at the ranch, an annex carved into the bedrock of the valley, joined to the main house by a long tunnel that afforded him and Brigid enough privacy that they could feel like it was their own but still connected to the family.

Her voice was sleepy. "Bali is it?"

"It's warm and sunny." He wiggled his eyebrows. "I bet I can pick up a few good shirts in Bali."

"Oh, I know ya can." She smiled. "I don't think you have a neon-pink one yet. We'll have to keep an eye out."

"And aren't you the best old girl a man could have, Brigid Connor!" He put on his broadest Welsh accent. "Ooh, fy blodyn tatws."

She laughed a little bit. "What are ya calling me?"

"My darling little potato flower."

"You are not."

"I definitely am."

She could not contain her smile, but she shook her head and covered it with her pillow. "You insane man, why do I love ya so much?"

"How could you not?" He jumped out of bed and curled his arms to flex his biceps. "Good Lord, woman, I'm a specimen."

Her eyes were not on his biceps, and her smile only grew broader. "I can't say you're not."

"Keep looking at me like that and you'll spend all night in this bed."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

He jumped back into the bed, caging her with his arms and lowering his head to take her lips in a long and generous kiss.

"You delight me," he whispered. "My bride."

"Do ya think we'll ever get sick of each other?" Brigid asked. "In a hundred years? A thousand?"

"Le do thoil. Please." He scoffed. "We'll have forgotten everything we learned by then and we can just start all over."

"Sláinte! Cheers to that." She laughed, and it was the most perfect sound in the world.

It was the most perfect sound in eternity.

And it was his.