“Uh, I somehow know that,” Griffin said, still rubbing his head. “It’s supposed to bring my true love back to me.”
“Right, you are,” Seamus said. “Mack, dress the bride.”
“I’m not getting into that dressafter it’s been on that skeleton,” Clare said. “You’re going to have to kill me first.”
“You don’t cooperate, you’ll be a skeleton next,” Mack grunted, pinning her with a bear hug.
“She has to want to be the bride,” Griffin’s voice sailed over Seamus’s head. “That much, I remember. She has to be my true love.”
“We’re running out of time,” Mack said. “Let Griffin work it out.”
“His family has failed for over a thousand years,” Seamus said. “I was the one who found the changeling.”
“What Griffin says is correct,” Mack said. “The changeling has to agree to sacrifice herself for Brigid.”
“I know I’m right,” Clare said in a sing-song voice. “You guys are all cursed when I become the fairy queen.”
An alarm jangled from Seamus’s cell phone. He glancedat it and frowned. “Fifteen minutes before dawn. Griffin, here’s what you have to do.”
Seamus whispered the ritual into the newly revived Griffin’s ear.
“Don’t listen to—” Clare called, but Mack slapped his paw over her mouth.
“We need to go now and trust Griffin to do his job,” Mack said. “As for you, little Changeling. No tricks. If Brigid doesn’t emerge from the bedchamber,you will die.”
“Seems I die either way.” Clare’s lips squirmed under his grubby hand. “I’ll take my chances with the amnesiac.”
“Let’s roll,” Seamus said, handing the knife to Griffin. “You know what to do. The golden age of Ireland is up to you.”
Clare was tempted to shout at Griffin not to believe them, but if they were leaving, she stood a better chance one-on-one withGriffin who was likely still reeling from his memory loss.
With one last shove, Mack sent her sprawling, arms windmilling, into Griffin. She crashed into him, barely missing the knife, and together they tumbled onto the bed.
The door slammed, and a lock clicked, leaving them alone in the bedchamber.
Footfalls receded, and all Clare could hear was her staggered breathing, hergalloping heart, and the blood swishing behind her ears.
“I don’t have much time,” Griffin said, breaking the tick-tock cadence of Clare’s pulse. “If what Seamus says is true, I’m supposed to place you next to the bones of Brigid, put the heart in her ribcage, and slit your throat.”
“I’m not partial to having my throat slit.” Clare focused her gaze on Griffin’s eyes, trying her bestto radiate kindness and love. The Griffin before the latest seizure was romantic and heroic—just her type. He’d been trying to run interference for her—to save her. But now? All bets were off. He’d had another seizure and had seemingly forgotten her. Even worse, his personality had undergone another cataclysmic change.
He lifted the gleaming knife and held it over her head. “I need yourblood. It will bring my true love, Brigid, back to life. Please?”
