Chapter 5
Dublin hadn’t changed much in a year. Still the same gray, damp weather, the old brick buildings, the potholes and grime, and the occasional door painted in gay colors: red, green, or bright blue. Clare sat squeezed between Sorcha and Maeve in the back seat of a taxicab.The misty rain washing down the side windows of the cab and the closed in, wet-dog smell were a world away from the glittering fundraising balls, publicity events, and Hollywood parties of the past year.
She’d been a fool to trust the first fast-talking man to promise her everything she wanted. He’d claimed to be her number one fan, had read all of her books, and believed her stories wereepic enough to become a major movie franchise on the level ofStar WarsorGame of Thrones.
He’d been a fake all along, acting rich and giving her free advice. She’d appeared in interviews published online as the newest up-and-coming paranormal romance sensation. Some even compared her to the author of that famous series about the sparkly vampire and the high school girl.
It camecrashing down a week ago when she tried to log into her account to see if she’d hit her goal.
Invalid password.
She’d checked and rechecked her password, but the error message kept flashing on the screen. She then typed in her email address to recover her password, but got an invalid email message.
Frantically, she’d called the bank and learned the account had been closed.She’d called and texted the scoundrel who’d taken her under his wing, but he never answered. She’d gone to his place, but it was up for rent. He’d deleted all of his social media, and that was that.
The police couldn’t help her as the account was in both their names. Her cousins couldn’t help other than to pay for her airplane ticket and give her huge doses of love and hugs.
Goodthing she still had her two best friends, Sorcha and Maeve, and they were on their way to the apartment they shared.
“You’re welcome to stay on the couch,” Maeve said to Clare as they entered the cramped apartment with exposed pipes and electrical conduits. “We’re using your room for inventory.”
WWW, or Wands, Wings, and Wardrobes, was the business they shared, producing fairy costumesand accessories and selling them online. Maeve was the pro at the sewing machine, while Sorcha specialized in 3D printing and the use of thermoplastics and metalwork. Clare was the wood whittler, and she made wands, crosses, and carvings as well as lucky charms and all sorts of bric-a-brac from nuts, pine cones, bark, and other plant material.
“That’s fine,” Clare said. “I can’t pay rent,and I have to pay back my cousin, Jenna. She insisted on putting me in first class on the flight over.”
Clare didn’t want Jenna to think she was a grifter, because she had zero family history with the Harts of San Francisco. Her only claim was an online DNA test which matched her with Jenna Hart as possible second cousins.
“She’s the rich fashion designer, isn’t she?” Maeve’s eyessparkled as she ran her fingers over a bolt of blue lace embedded with glitter. “I wish to meet her one day and show her some of my designs.”
“She has a new elemental line of evening gowns,” Clare said. “I was dressed as fire, of course. You saw the fashion show videos?”
“Spectacular,” Sorcha said. “I see you showed her how to use thermoplastics to create fins and horns.”
“She’s got a 3D scanner and printer now,” Clare said. “You know what we should do? Scan the Heart of Brigid.”
“Great idea.” Sorcha stared at the amulet as if she could see through it. “Let me analyze it and see what kind of mineral it’s made of.”
“Looks like quartz,” Maeve said. “Or melted glass.”
“It’s pretty, whatever it is.” Clare untied the purplish blob from the lanyard.“It sparkles if you hold it up to the light.”
“What if it’s worth a lot of money?” Maeve’s gaze darted back and forth between the amulet and Clare.
“I don’t think it is,” Clare said. “That crazy man waved it around like a cheap souvenir.”
“It’s obviously not a real piece of a human heart,” Sorcha said, turning it from side to side. “It could be quartz or even a diamond, althoughdiamonds don’t come so large.”
“It’s not shiny or sparkly like a diamond,” Maeve said. “Let’s copy it and make a charm out of it.”
They walked into Clare’s old room. Sure enough, it was stacked high with things they were selling. A 3D scanner and printer sat on the desk, alongside a pottery wheel, an oven for baking polymer clay, and a microscope.
Sorcha unwrapped the amuletfrom the leather ties and held it close to her eye. She turned it from side to side and grimaced. “It might be a diamond in the rough. I can sneak it into the lab at work and test it.”
“If you get caught, you’ll get fired,” Maeve cried. “The museum might think you stole it from them.”
A weight like a soggy wool blanket draped itself over Clare at the thought it could be valuable.“I shouldn’t have taken it. I only thought to play a trick on the ass. He was so rude and dismissive, like I didn’t belong in first class. I mean, I didn’t, but Jenna bought me the ticket.”
“Then give it back after we scan it,” Sorcha said. “Did you give him your name?”
