Biceps parted the netting over the bedand turned back the brocaded bedspread covered with Celtic knot patterns.
A gleaming, polished skeleton lay on the bed. It wore a crown full of glittery diamonds over its burnished copper-colored head of hair.
Clare gasped with a sudden intake of air, and her hands flew over the Heart of Brigid she wore around her neck.
“Lie on the bed next to Brigid,” Biceps said.
“No, no, I can’t.” Clare removed the platinum chain with the rough diamond from her neck. “I’m not worthy of the great goddess. Give her the heart, and let me go.”
Biceps clamped Clare in a wrestling hold and shoved her flat on the bed. She prodded Clare with the gun. “You will prepare yourself for the bridegroom, or I’ll shoot you right now.”
“Then kill me now.” Clare twisted andturned, digging her chin into the collarbone of Biceps.
“Ow, let go,” Biceps grunted.
Clare twisted the other woman’s ear, yanking the cartilage and kneed her in the vicinity of her groin. Biceps grabbed Clare’s hair, and the two of them tumbled onto the slate floor, grunting and hissing.
The gun clattered to the floor, and both women reached for it. Scratching, biting, clawing,and digging elbows and chins into each other, they fought for the gun.
Clare closed her fingers around the pistol grip. She got her finger onto the trigger, but Biceps twisted the barrel toward Clare.
The gunshot reverberated at close range.
With a flurry of flapping wings, Clare lifted herself straight up like a panicked helicopter and bashed her head on the ceiling.
It took a moment, but she changed the angle of her wings, lowered her head and stretched out her tail. With a few powerful flaps, she alighted on a beam above a crystal chandelier.
“Caw, caw.” The sound of a large raven echoed through the bedchamber.
Down below, Biceps picked up an empty white dress and fluffed it. The tiara lay on its side, tangled with the veil. Two long whitegloves sagged in a heap, and a pair of diamond-encrusted stilettos were kicked aside.
“Where the heck did she go?” Biceps shook out the dress. She dropped it and raised the gun, aiming it this way and that as she took cover near the entrance of the bedchamber.
After clearing the room, Biceps shouted, “You’re not getting away, changeling. If you don’t show yourself, you’ll die inhere.”
She pulled shut the door and bolted it. The chandelier went dark, but strangely enough, Clare could see in the dark perfectly.
Was she having another one of her hallucinations? But no, her wings were strong, and she’d never felt more real in her life.
Griffin sat in the back seat of the rideshare and used Clare’s phone to call Sorcha. “I don’t know why Maeve stepped away, but we need to rescue Clare.”
“Maeve called me,” Sorcha said. “She thinks you’re faking the kidnapping.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why would she say that?”
“Because Clare was in your limo—your Rolls Royce Silver Shadow,” Sorchasaid. “She saw the same license plate in Clare’s photo stream, registered to Dún Na Ngall.”
“My Rolls Royce?” Griffin slapped his head. “Then we’d better get to Gallagher Castle. According to the Green Notebook, Clare’s in danger. They’re going to human sacrifice her. They think she’s a changeling who will become the queen.”
“We’re not walking into the trap.” Sorcha’s voice was guarded.
“Aren’t you Clare’s friends? If you don’t help, I’ll do it myself.”
“We called the Garda and told them you kidnapped our friend. Maeve got the license plate number,” Sorcha said. “The jig is up, and you might as well turn yourself in. You’re all a bunch of lunatics.”
“We can’t wait for them to investigate,” Griffin said, knowing the Garda would never interfere with the affairsof Ireland’s Four Guardians. “It’s up to us to save her.”
“I can’t think of an angle,” Sorcha said. “Don’t you think I’m frantic enough? It’s all your fault, showing Clare the Heart of Brigid and tempting her to steal it.”
