A shape like a notebook flashed in back of his eyeballs. Of course, he should review the Green Notebook. It contained the important instructions, and he was told he had to follow them to the letter.
Griffin whirled around, leaving the secret door ajar, and dashed back to his luggage. He was so close to success; he didn’twant to screw any of it up.
He unzipped his briefcase and dumped out the contents. Pens, pencils, slips of paper, tickets, and receipts fell out. Nothing said “Read Me” on the cover. It was green, wasn’t it?
When was the last time he reviewed the secret directions? Was it before or after he’d taken the Heart of Brigid? He remembered the cadaverous figure on the hospital bed—at leasthe thought it was a few days ago. The raspy voice gave him specific instructions, but had he written them down?
The Green Notebook was nowhere among his stuff. Griffin had no time to ask Pierce to look inside the limo. Maybe he’d left it in the last hotel room or lost it at the airport. He had read the contents right before he got onto the airplane, hadn’t he?
Or had he hidden itamong the pages of the in-flight magazine?Think. Think.If he’d reviewed it, the contents should be somewhere in his brain. He needed to relax and let his subconscious guide him. At least that was what his memory therapist had said.Let the connections grow like vines. Don’t force them to connect.
Griffin closed his eyes and clasped his hand over the lump underneath his shirt. He neededthe Heart of Brigid. But there was something else he needed—something living and breathing and female.
His mind couldn’t grasp what it was, but he wondered if he’d known what he needed and that was why he’d shown the Heart of Brigid to that strange writer who was also a witch.
He must be on the right track, and he knew the next step. It lay behind the secret doorway. The Morriganwas a distraction—something the hollow-faced man said as he lay dying.
Your mother was a Morrigan, the word echoed between the thudding of his heart.
“No, no, no.” Griffin shook his head wildly and stepped through the secret doorway. “I am destined only for you, Brigid. I’m coming now, my love. I have your heart. This time, it’s forever. We shall live and love in your world and mine.You will regain your throne, and together, we shall defeat the evil Morrigan who made a deal with the devilish invaders and consigned the true Fae to hide underground.”
A distinct chill raised the tiny hairs on the back of his neck, and he resisted the urge to look back into his closet in case the blasted Morrigan materialized to take away what was rightfully his.
He patted the lumpunderneath his shirt and breathed easier. He stepped into the passageway and closed the trapdoor behind him. The steps down to the dungeon were dank and musty, but he knew his way by heart.
Throughout the years, he’d visited the furnished bedchamber religiously, changing the silk sheets and fluffing the pillows. He’d kept the wicks oiled on the lamps, and the bones polished and clean. He’dbrushed spiderwebs off his beloved’s hair and picked insects off her sumptuous robes. Her furniture was regularly dusted, and the white slate floor swept clean.
He was about to be rewarded. She’d thank him for keeping the fires of love alive, for never losing faith, and for returning her heart, first with a blessing, and then a smile. Followed by a flirtatious wink, and then, unable torestrain any longer, a deep and desperate thank-you kiss.
Griffin traversed the passageway quickly. The Heart of Brigid bounced under his shirt with each step he took.
He reached the gate and pulled a lever. It opened a rune-covered stone door, and he entered the foyer of the underground mansion he’d constructed through his many lives.
Light filtered through the opening farabove, illuminating a door over a white slate floor. Behind that door lay the bedchamber of his righteous bride, waiting patiently for him to free her from her deathless slumber.
This was it.
The luckiest day of his life.
The moment he’d worked for.
An eight-hundred-year dream.
Today was a green-letter day for all of Ireland, heralding the return of the truequeen and the marriage of the fairy world with that of mankind. The Otherworld would no longer be hidden underground. It would merge with the world of man and create a living, breathing paradise on earth—a land of plenty where no one went hungry, no one got sick, and everyone found love forever.
“My lovely Brigid, I bring you your heart,” he announced. “Your Griffin comes to claim you.”
He tapped a code into a hidden panel, and the bedchamber door opened. A screen separated the bed from the entry. Beside the door, a full-length mirror hid a wardrobe stocked with Brigid’s queenly garments. He turned on the chandelier above. It was in dim mode, soft and diffuse, making the mood both magical and romantic.
He dared not look behind the screen until all was ready, so hestood in front of a mirror and removed his tie. Then he unbuttoned his shirt and unhooked the precious purplish diamond in the rough from his lanyard.
He lifted it, and his heart cracked like a cursed mirror in its seventh year.
The Heart of Brigid had turned black.
Griffin clawed it from the crocheted yarn web and held it close to his face. Tiny black flakes fell from thestone and smudged his fingers. He dug his fingernails into the black chunk, marring it.
What kind of evil magic had turned his Heart of Brigid into a lump of coal?
