Chapter 8
Clare was so groggy, for a moment, she didn’t remember where she was.
A door slammed, and she fell with a thud. Opening her eyes, she saw the leg of the sofa in front of her nose. Her body was wrapped in a tangle of crocheted yarn, and when she turned over, a pairof shearling boots were planted on the worn rug next to the crate that served as a coffee or tea table.
“Hey, you get enough sleep?” Sorcha bent down and held up her hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Clare sat up and rubbed her eyes, blinking in the darkened room. “What time is it?”
“I had to work late to get this thing analyzed.” Sorcha held the Heart of Brigid stone in herpalm. “It’s a real diamond in the rough. Mohs hardness is a ten. Scratches corundum. Has a four-sided crystal. Specific gravity is 3.52 exactly in the diamond range. It has some impurities, hence the color, and there are occlusions embedded inside, which makes me think it’s natural and not lab grown. Over five-hundred carats. Do you have any idea how much this is worth?”
Clare’s jaw slackened,and she felt her eyeballs explode. Her pulse swished behind her ears, and jagged fear tore through her heart.
“No,” she managed to whisper. “What do we do?”
“Not what dowedo, but what are you going to do?” Sorcha dropped the rough diamond onto Clare’s lap. “You’re the one who stole it.”
“Has anyone reported it missing?” Clare didn’t dare touch the gemstone which was as largeas an egg.
“Not that I know of,” Sorcha said. “But the very existence of this kind of treasure would be kept secret. Only a select few would know about it.”
“Why did Griffin show it to me?” Clare stared at the dull purple stone. It had an oily sheen and didn’t remind her of any diamond she’d ever seen.
“Bragging, maybe. People always let the pussy out of the purse. They can’thelp it. Maybe he stole it from someone else.” Sorcha’s dark eyebrows lowered. “What if he tempted you into taking it because someone was after him?”
Clare clapped her hand over her mouth. “What if he was being followed, and now, they’re looking for me? I have to get it back to him.”
The lock on the front door clicked, and both Sorcha and Clare jumped. Prickles of sweat erupted fromevery pore of her body, and her heart risked catapulting from her chest.
“Howya, roomies.” Maeve sailed through the doorway and threw her scarf on the coatrack. “Why are you two sitting in the dark?”
She flicked on the light, and her gaze caught on the diamond. “I’ve been busy in the heart of the library finding out everything about Brigid. This is gross, but her head is supposedto be in Portugal, thanks to three stout Irish knights. A small piece of her skull was given back to Ireland in the 1920s.”
“We’re not interested in her skull,” Sorcha said. “What else did you find?”
“Three of the knights are buried with her head after they guarded it all their lives, but in one of the old books, I saw a mention of a fourth.” Maeve picked the diamond off of Clare’slap and held it to the light.
“A fourth knight?” Clare held her hand to her tightened throat. “What happened to him?”
“He was turned into a beast because he wouldn’t give up his treasure,” Maeve said. Her eyes glittered and narrowed.
“What was the treasure?” Sorcha asked.
“The three knights didn’t know. They didn’t say how they got her head or where the rest of herskeleton was laid to rest. Everything got murky around the twelfth century when the Normans invaded.” Maeve rubbed the rough diamond and breathed on it. “I wonder if this was the treasure the fourth knight kept.”
“What was his name? Did you find anything else?” Clare couldn’t take her gaze off the mesmerizing diamond.
“He was referred to as the Garda, or Guardian,” Maeve licked herlips. “The beast he was turned into was half eagle and half lion—a griffin.”
“Griffin Gallagher is a guardian?” Clare gaped at her friends. “What if he comes after me? What should I do?”
She’d barely finished emoting when several loud knocks sounded at the door.
Clare grabbed the diamond and stuffed it down the waistband of her skirt and into her panties. Maeve gave a littlescream, fluttered her hands, and ran to her room while Sorcha tiptoed to the door and looked through the peephole.
“Open up, Garda!” a rough voice shouted.
Sorcha made a lip-zipping motion. Not that Clare was going to say a word. Instead, she sat over the egg-shaped diamond like a mother hen guarding a cuckoo’s egg.
