“Gladly.” She flung the necklace from her breast, whirled around and ran down the stairs for the exit. She was getting out of this crazy castle with whatever was left ofher heart intact.
Griffin woke from the dead the same way he’d done a million times.First there was the complete silence, followed by the murmuring of voices, and then the distinct sensation of a storm receding. The static electricity fizzling out. The scent of copper or rust and the taste of blood in his throat was blocked by a hard, smooth object.
He retrieved a smooth rectangle with glass on one side and an emerald-green metallic back.
“Clare’s mobile phone,”he muttered, not sure where that thought came from.
“You’ll be fine, lad,” the booming voice of a heavy-set man filtered through to his conscious mind.
He lifted his eyes and blinked, once, twice, not believing it wasn’t his grandfather. A white-haired man stood over him. He wore a big-mustache and a monocle, and Griffin recognized him as Edmund Donnelly, one of his grandfather’sfriends.
“Lord Donnelly?” he asked. “Where’s my grandfather?”
“Please, call me Edmund,” Lord Donnelly replied. “He’s in the sitting room answering questions.”
“Where’s Clare?” Griffin asked.
“Who’s Clare?” The older man helped him to his feet. “You’ve had another seizure. You must not be remembering things the way you should.”
“Oh, no, my mind is clear. I’vea friend named Clare. She’s a bit on the daft side, but she’s a load of fun. We spent the day together, visiting places in Dublin like the Kilmainham Gaol and a tattoo parlor. Why, I have a tattoo to prove it.”
“You must be dreaming,” Edmund said. “Let’s go down to your bedchamber. I’ll call for a doctor, and you can take a nap.”
“I don’t want a nap,” Griffin said. “I want to findmy Clare. I have so much to tell her. She’s a romance writer, and I have a story for her. We’re going to work on it together and make a movie.”
The elderly Donnelly chuckled. “Rest first. I’ll get your grandfather to sit with you.”
“Where’s Pierce?” Griffin found it strange that his loyal butler wasn’t the first one to find him as he usually did.
“Pierce has resigned. He wasn’twho you thought he would be.”
“What do you mean? He was our butler ever since I can remember.”
“Which wasn’t too long,” Lord Donnelly said, leading the way down the stairs. “I’m afraid he was here on false pretenses. Instead of supervising his own grandson, he was here spying on you and Duke Gallagher.”
“Spying? I don’t get it.”
“He was after the Heart of Brigid, insteadof minding his own business. You do remember there are two factions of Guardians, don’t you?”
“Uh, tell me more.” Griffin rubbed his head, hoping to clear the cobwebs. “I’m the guardian of the stone, and you’re the guardian of the cup.”
“Or cauldron, yes,” Edmund confirmed. “It’s the stone and cauldron against the sword and spear.G.E.M.S.stands for Griffin, Eamon, Mack, and Seamus.You and Eamon, my grandson, are on the same team, just like me and your grandfather Gordon are teamed together. I must admit we failed you the last five years when I was detained in a foreign prison, and Eamon was taken hostage by Muslim extremists.”
“Oh…” Griffin felt his mouth round into an oblong shape. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Not your fault,” Edmund said. “The O’Tooles,Sean and Seamus, took advantage. Sean became your butler Pierce, and he took control of your memories, while the Bradys, Myles and Mack, ingratiated themselves into your grandfather’s good graces. Instead of guarding their own treasures, which I have good intelligence that they’ve lost…”
Edmund broke off to slide a hearty wink at Griffin, leaving him to wonder whether the Donnellys wereresponsible for the loss of the other two treasures.
“What I don’t get is why the Gallaghers were entrusted to guard the stone when we lose our memories,” Griffin said. “I feel at a great disadvantage.”
“We all have our failings,” Edmund said. “This is what makes this game so much fun. Anyway, do you have the stone?”
Griffin narrowed his eyes and retreated into his own mindspace. How could he trust a word out of this man’s mouth? If it was true that the guardians were tricking each other out of their respective treasures, then Lord Donnelly was not here on a mission of mercy. The silver-tongued liar was after his treasure.
He still had the fake, quartz-version of the Heart of Brigid in his pocket. He’d remembered to put it there when he changed clothes. Itstill throbbed beside the wound on his leg.
“I’d like to see my grandfather now,” he said.
