Chapter 15
Clare wasted no time helping Griffin pack. She turned down dessert, pushed from the table, and paraded with Griffin into his bedchamber.
He pulled out a large suitcase and began stuffing papers, books, and clothes into it. She, meanwhile, examined the contentsof his desk, looking for receipts, bills, and prescriptions. Anything that looked useful, she stuffed into a duffle bag.
“Do you take any medication to control your seizures?” she asked as she packed his toiletries.
“Pierce dispenses the medication,” Griffin said. “I’ll ring him. Why do we have to leave today?”
“I need to get to the fairy mound at the abbey where I can pickup a message from my guardian fairy,” she improvised. “I go back to her whenever I have a puzzle I can’t figure out. Let’s bring the fake Heart of Brigid to give her something to compare with.”
“Good idea.” Griffin opened the drawer of his nightstand and brought out a lump of coal. It was still attached to the lanyard he’d worn around his neck. “Do you know anything about this? When Piercefound me, I had this in my hand. I was also calling out a name, Clare.”
Electric sparks jumped over her scalp. Clare gasped and recoiled from it. It was the piece of coal she’d swapped for Griffin’s rough diamond. Had he known all along that she wasn’t Brigid? That she was Clare Hart, the romance author with silly characters wearing fairy clothes?
“I can see you have a reaction tothe black stone,” Griffin said. “Perhaps it calls to you, or it’s a part of your magic.”
“I have no idea why you’d waste my time with this piece of garbage.” Her positive thinking studies told her the best defense is a good offense. “Where did you get this?”
“On my way home, I must have met an evil woman—a Morrigan, who exchanged my Heart of Brigid for this worthless chunk of carbon.”
She held his gaze. “Do you or do you not want my help?”
“Of course, I want your help, dear Brigid. To reward you, I’ll make sure you get that story you’re searching for and fund the movie you want.” He picked up a tendril of her hair and replaced it over her ear. He leaned closer and whispered, “We’ll both get our wishes, won’t we?”
Clare’s jaw snapped shut, and she inhaledsharply. The gesture, which would have been tender and romantic in other circumstances, felt contrived and slightly threatening.
But she was being overly paranoid. He’d offered her a reward, and he hadn’t imprisoned her or tortured her for the location of the stone. In fact, he had an expectant look on his face, as if she could provide answers.
“Yes, we both will.” She lifted herchin and flashed him a confident smile. “Let’s get going. I assume you want me to drive?”
“Pierce can return your rental car,” Griffin said. “I’ll take you on a tour of my garage so you can pick from my collection. You can drive, because I haven’t been taking my medication.”
“Why not? I mean, why aren’t you taking your medication?”
“I don’t particularly like what I came backto.” He let out a deep sigh. “Maybe if I died again, I can be reborn a hero. According to Grandfather, I’d almost completed my mission.”
He dangled the coal in front of Clare’s face.
“What do you mean?” Her jaw slackened, and she refused to look at her piece of coal. “Did you actually find Brigid?”
“Yes. I made it to her bedchamber. I was so close to restoring her to life.When it was time for me to place her heart into her ribcage, what do you think I found?” His hand shook so hard it made the coal jitter and jump, almost hitting Clare on the nose.
She stepped back, raising her hand to ward him off. Horror gushed to her throat, and adrenaline rushed through her veins. “What do you mean her ribcage? Metaphorically or literally?”
“I’d gone back to thetwelfth century. I was literally at the cusp of resurrecting my fairy queen.” His upper lip curled, exposing gritted teeth. “Instead, I apparently died writing Clare, Clare, Clare, Clare on the stone floor outside of the bedchamber.”
“It must have been a dream.”
“This piece of coal is real.” He grabbed Clare’s hand and pressed the coal into her palm. “Have you ever dreamt somethingso real it was like watching yourself in a movie?”
Clare nodded as if she were hypnotized, unable to remove her gaze from the dark pools of Griffin’s eyes. “All the time. I get visions even when I’m awake. It’s like I stepped into one of my stories.”
“Maybe you have, changeling.” He closed her fingers over the coal. “Coal and diamond are both made of carbon. You might be both a goddessand a witch.”
Griffin would have been more amused watching Brigid choose from among hiscar collection if he was sure she was only possessed by two personalities. He’d call her Brigid for now, since she didn’t know he had proof she was also Clare Hart, writer of childish romances where the supernatural heroes were defanged and tamed beta males whose only desire were to please her childish, entitled, and fanciful heroines.
He could puke at the descriptions alone. Overdone andoutlandish, a daily costume party with props and animatronics. As if anyone lived in a cluttered castle full of stereotyped magical objects.
