Liar's Moon

by Kate Sweeney

  “What’s your point?” she asked softly.

  “No point really. You’re right, some things seem odd.”

  “Tell me what’s in your book.” Sister Gabriel completely changed the topic. “It has Corky hovering over it all night. He won’t let it out of his sight.”

  “Legends, myths, spells, and white magic, I assume.”

  Sister Gabriel frowned then; Grayson saw her cheek muscle twitch. It was then she knew that Sister Gabriel was hiding something, that perhaps she had some hidden agenda. Her instincts told her not to confront the nun—for now.

  “Being a Catholic, I’m sure you don’t believe in such things,” Grayson said, looking at Corky’s book.

  “Being a Catholic, I would assume you do not, as well.”

  Grayson looked up then. “There’s more to it than that, I’m afraid.”

  “What more is there than God?”

  Grayson chuckled ruefully. “We were talking about Catholicism. Sometimes, the lines are blurred. Before Christianity, there were gods and goddesses. There were druids and druidesses and those who had very strong religious beliefs that had nothing to do with the man-made laws of Catholicism. I’m not denouncing the church, just realizing there is more out there, for over two thousand years.”

  Images of Phelan Tynan flashed through her mind: the night, under the residual moon when she almost lost her life and the power that had been entrusted to her.

  She looked at Sister Gabriel. “I believe in God, Sister. I also believe there are things in this world and the next that we can’t explain. He knows, I’m sure, but when the other world invades this world, I get a little nervous. I’m funny that way.”

  Sister Gabriel smiled for a moment before growing serious once more. “Whatever you, Corky, and Neala are into, I shall pray very hard that nothing happens to you.”

  “Thank you, but what do you think we’re into that we could be harmed?”

  “Look at what happened to your mother,” Sister Gabriel said in a deliberate tone. So much so, the hair on the back of Grayson’s neck bristled.

  “My mother was killed by some rabid dog or wolf.”

  Sister Gabriel hesitated. “Of course she was. You’re right. As I said, I shall pray for all of you to be safe and trust in God.”

  “I have great faith. It’s the religion I have difficulty with.”

  “Then I shall pray for that, as well.”

  Grayson chuckled and held her hands up as if in defeat. “Okay, you win. I’m grateful for any prayers you throw my way.” She regarded Sister Gabriel for a moment. “You’re a curious woman.”

  “How so?” She smiled but gave Grayson a wary look. “You’re still wondering why I left a life of seclusion to come here.”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  For a second, Grayson thought she might confide in her. However, Sister Gabriel rose. “There’s nothing curious about it. The bishop summoned me and I obeyed. I suppose it was time to change and serve God in another way. Well, I will leave you to your work.” She smiled and walked toward the door. “Whatever that is.”

  Grayson smiled. “When I find out, I’ll let you know.”

  Before she left, Grayson noticed the disconcerting frown once again. “I hope it won’t come to that.”

  Grayson watched as she walked down the hall. She laughed when Corky poked his head around the corner. “Come to what?” He walked into the room and sat down.

  Grayson explained her conversation with Sister Gabriel. Corky listened intently as he cleaned his glasses on his sweater. “What are ya thinking?”

  “I don’t know. I just keep getting a creepy feeling every time I see her. There has got to be a reason for her coming here other than her reasoning of it being time to serve God in another way.”

  “Well, really, it does seem logical. Perhaps her life of solitude lost its appeal.”

  “After thirty years, wouldn’t you think she was resigned to it? And why now? With all that’s happening.” Grayson closed Corky’s book. “No. She’s here for some reason, I can feel it.”

  “I can’t think why. But you know, since I had that dream of Maeve and she said ‘liar’s moon,’ I’m suspect of everyone. I know that sounds daft.”

  “Not at all. You had that dream and so did Rose. Neala didn’t have it and neither did I. I have no idea what that means.”

  “If anything,” Corky said.

  Grayson had to agree. It could mean nothing at all. “None of this makes any sense.”

  “I disagree.” Corky sat behind the desk. He leafed through the old parchment pages. “We found the prophecy that foretold you as the true descendant in this book. Perhaps we will find out what liar’s moon means. I don’t think it’s coincidental, and I think it’s all connected. Let’s try the letter you translated from Tatiana once again.” He took Grayson’s translated paper and paced while he read.

  Grayson leaned back in the chair and waited patiently.

  “All right then,” Corky started. “In the shadow of the crescent…” He sat on the windowsill and gazed out the window. “Shadow…”

  Grayson noticed his smile then. “Okay, what?”

  “In the shadow, perhaps that means after the crescent moon. Which could mean, after the residual moon and all we—well, you—went through.”

  “Fair enough,” Grayson said quietly, not wanting to derail his train of thought.

  Corky continued with the prophecy. “A mark is cloaked unseen.” He stopped again. “What if this liar has a mark, perhaps like yours.” He looked at Grayson, who nodded. “Cloaked unseen… It’s hidden. This liar is marked, but hidden.”

  “Kinda like Damien and the three sixes?” Grayson asked, leaning forward. “Ya know, like the movie…”

  “The Omen. Yes, perhaps. Though I sincerely hope we’re not dealing with Satan. Phelan is bad enough.”

  “Do you think Tatiana is talking about Phelan?”

  “Hmm. Maybe, but until we’re certain, let’s keep an open mind.”

  “Okay, continue for now. You’re on a roll.” Grayson sat back once again.

  “Right then. The traitor’s song eclipse the moon.” Corky took a deep breath while he contemplated the verse. “Traitor’s song…”

  “Maybe whoever this is, their lying is their song so to speak.”

  Corky grinned and nodded. “We don’t know what their lie is, but it obscures our view of the moon, metaphorically speaking…Liar’s moon.”

  “So we’re being duped and we don’t know it,” Grayson said.

  Corky agreed. “Sadly, yes. But if we can decipher this further, we won’t be in the dark for too long.”

  Grayson let out a rueful laugh. “Good luck with that.”

  Corky laughed along and glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Aren’t you supposed to meet Neala for dinner?”

  Grayson jumped to her feet. “Damn it.” She dashed out the room, but not before turning back to Corky. “Do not decipher anything without me.”

  Chapter 11

  “I’m sorry, Neala,” Grayson said breathlessly as she slipped into a chair opposite Neala.

  Neala sipped from her glass of wine. “It’s all right. I had an impromptu meeting with Inspector Gaffney. I just arrived.”

  “Shit,” Grayson said. “I hoped she was finished with the questions.”

  “Somehow I don’t think she’ll go away.”

  “I don’t blame her. When you think about it, it’s a fantastic story. Wolves in Ireland.”

  The server came to their table. Grayson looked at Neala’s glass of wine. “I’ll have a bottle of whatever she’s drinking.”

  Neala laughed and agreed. The server placed the loaf of brown bread covered by a linen napkin on the table.

  Grayson quickly dove in. “I’m starving.” She took a piece of the warm bread and lathered it with butter. “Now enough talk of wolves and wizards. Let’s be normal. Tell me about your life, Dr. Rourke. Do you have any brothers, sisters?”

  The server came w
ith the bottle of wine and took their dinner order of prawns and pasta. Grayson handed the server the menu and waited until he had left. “Okay, so…”

  “No, I’m an only child. My mother died when I was young. I don’t really remember her.”

  Grayson frowned. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “It’s all right. It was long ago. My father moved to England. He lives in Liverpool. I haven’t seen him in almost a year. But he’s happy and content.”

  “Do you miss him?” Grayson asked.

  “I suppose I do. We aren’t very close.”

  “What does he do for a living?”

  “He works in the shipyards.”

  Grayson saw the faraway look as she drank her wine. “I’m sorry if I intruded.”

  Neala smiled. “You didn’t. I just haven’t spoke of them in a while. Now tell me what you and Corky have been up to. I’ll be able to come out this weekend.”

  “Well, Sebastian is here.”

  Neala nearly dropped her fork. “Seriously? Will she be there this weekend?”

  Grayson heard the hopeful tone and frowned. “I guess. Why?”

  “Why?” Neala asked with a laugh. She then leaned in and whispered, “A vampire? And from what Corky said, very sexy. And you’re asking me why?”

  Grayson shrugged and ate her bread. “One vampire is like any other.”

  Neala raised an eyebrow. “And you’ve seen so many, Grayson MacCarthaigh?”

  Grayson chuckled but said nothing.

  “Now tell me what else has been happening.”

  “Well, Corky’s reading his beloved book. And Mrs. Barry read my tea leaves.”

  “Tea leaves?”

  They waited as the server brought their dinner. He poured both another glass of wine before leaving them.

  “Wow, that looks great.”

  Neala placed her napkin in her lap. “I told ya. The best in Dublin.”

  “Don’t tell me you don’t know anything about the art of reading tea leaves,” Grayson said between mouthfuls.

  “Well, yes, but why did she want to read yours and who is she?”

  Grayson laughed. “She’s a good friend of my mother and grandmother.” She shrugged and continued eating. “Guess she had a dream the other night and Ma was in it. In the dream, Ma said something about liar’s moon.”

  “Liar’s moon? What does that mean?” Neala asked.

  “I have no idea.” Grayson sat back. “Corky’s trying to find it in his book, but he did find something in the almanac. Apparently, a liar’s moon has a haze around it as if it’s hiding or shrouding something.”

  “So what did Mrs. Barry find out?” Neala finished her meal, dabbing the napkin on the corner of her mouth.

  Grayson noticed her intense gaze and laughed. “You look so serious. Rose Barry is a wonderful old woman who thinks she can read my future in tea leaves. All she came up with is deception, which could correspond with her dream of my mother and liar’s moon. She’s being protective, I suppose.”

  Neala was quiet for a moment as she toyed with her wineglass. “You can’t blame her. You’ve been through a lot of pain, Grayson. I’m amazed at how the villagers love you because of your mother and your family. ”

  Grayson reached across and took her hand. “You and Corky have been there to help. You’ll never know how much that means to me.”

  Neala looked down at their hands for a moment, then smiled. “I was glad to do it.”

  “If only I could have gotten that asshole Phelan.” Grayson patted her hand and sat back.

  “But you saved the stone and the power. You fulfilled your destiny,” Neala said.

  “Part of it anyway. I have no idea what’s going to happen next.”

  “Life was much simpler before,” Neala said thoughtfully.

  “That sounds like you have a little more to say.”

  “Not really. But so much has happened since we’ve met. Everything is now upside down. Between Phelan, the ancient stone—”

  “Which you have to explain.”

  “Which I have to explain. And your mother dying at Phelan’s hand, I’m surprised you haven’t chucked it all and gone back to Chicago. I’m amazed, actually. Yet since I’ve met you, I’ve seen your inner turmoil and inner strength you possess. I truly believe the ancient ones knew what they were doing when they chose you to be the true descendant—the guardian of the Tuatha De Danann’s power and the protector of Ireland.”

  “I’m not sure about that, but one thing is sure. There’s no turning back. I…” Grayson stopped when she saw Inspector Gaffney come into the restaurant with another woman.

  They were laughing as they waited to be seated. Grayson caught her eye and Megan Gaffney cocked her head and nodded. Grayson nodded in return; she noticed the inspector’s look at Neala. She also saw the scrutiny in her gaze, as if she were committing the scene to memory. Grayson couldn’t blame her. That’s exactly what she’d do given the same situation and given Grayson was still a detective.

  “I suppose she’s following you now,” Neala said, watching Inspector Gaffney. “She’s pretty.”

  Grayson raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Now, now, Dr. Rourke. Green does not look good on you.” She then stopped grinning. “On second thought, it goes very well with your eyes.”

  She watched Neala as she smiled and drank her coffee. “You really are very pretty. I wish things were different. That we could have gotten to know each other first.”

  Neala chuckled then. “Well, you and I didn’t get off to the best of starts.”

  Grayson smiled. “This is very true. I wasn’t at all sure you weren’t a murderer.”

  “And now you know I’m not…”

  Grayson continued to smile when she heard Neala’s soft voice. “I’m very happy you’re not.”

  Neala once again drank her coffee. “That’s good to know.”

  “You’re a good woman.”

  Neala looked at her then. “Thank you. And it’s getting late. Unless you’re spending the night in Dublin, we’d best be leaving.”

  However, neither made a move to leave. Grayson looked across the table into Neala’s eyes.

  “What are ya thinking?” Neala asked.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Neala smiled. “It’s getting late. You’re more than welcome to spend the night. I-I wouldn’t mind at all.”

  “I don’t feel like driving across the country.”

  “With all this still going on, I—”

  Grayson reached over and held her hand. “Remember back in Chicago, I said we were destined to share a bed. Let that be enough for now.”

  Neala nodded and caressed the back of Grayson’s hand. “And if you don’t cut that out, I’ll change my mind.”

  Grayson stood in Neala’s living room and looked around.

  “What’s the matter?” Neala asked.

  “Oh, nothing. It’s a nice place. Nice fireplace. It’s cozy.”

  The flat was modestly decorated mostly with Irish artifacts, paintings, and sculptures. The furniture was also somewhat on the antique side but comfortable. To Grayson, it felt like an extension of the museum. It was befitting a curator.

  Neala looked around, as well. “It’s getting late. I have a spare room if you like.” She absently ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Thanks, or if you don’t want to be alone…”

  “I really don’t.”

  Grayson walked up to her and put her arm around her. “Me either.”

  Neala turned off the lamp and took Grayson by the hand, leading her through the darkness.

  The moonlight streamed through the bedroom window. Neala seemed awkward; Grayson couldn’t blame her as she watched her rummage through her dresser. “Here, I’ve got something you can wear.”

  Grayson took the clothes and headed for the bathroom. “This reminds me of when we were at my mother’s back in Chicago.”

  Neala chuckled. “I know. Go on…”

  When Grayson came back, Nea
la was already in bed. She tried to ignore how her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Neala before crawling into bed. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” Neala whispered.

  Grayson shifted, trying to get comfortable.

  “It’s an old mattress,” Neala said.

  Grayson laughed softly. “Did you get this from the museum?”

  “Very funny.”

  “It’ll do. Thank you.”

  Grayson turned on her side to face Neala. “You know so much has happened here. You and I have never had much time to get to know each other.”

  “We’ll have time.”

  “Would it be all right if I held you?”

  “Yes,” Neala whispered and sidled closer. She turned away from Grayson, who spooned behind her, wrapping her arm around her waist.

  “Good night, Neala.”

  “Good night.”

  Grayson lightly kissed her hair. When she felt Neala relax and fall asleep, she too felt the weight of the day and closed her eyes.

  The next morning, Grayson woke early; she felt restless for some reason. Dreams from the previous night caused her to have an uneasy sleep. She hated when she couldn’t remember her dreams, and the night before was no exception. Neala was in her dream somewhere. She looked over at Neala, who slept peacefully. Perhaps she was the reason for her restlessness.

  As she watched Neala in a serene repose, Grayson leaned over and lightly brushed the red hair from her face.

  Grayson succumbed to the urge and lightly kissed her cheek.

  Neala’s eyes fluttered opened, offering Grayson a sleepy smile. “Good morning.”

  “Morning,” Grayson whispered.

  “How did you sleep on my ancient mattress?”

  Grayson smiled. “Just fine.”

  Neala rolled away from Grayson and cuddled her pillow. “I’m glad.”

  Grayson lay on her side and couldn’t help but run her fingers across the flimsy material of the tank top Neala wore. Grayson took the opportunity to gaze at her soft, white skin, running her fingers up and down her arm. Before she knew it, her left hand had found its way to the curve of Neala’s hip and the waistband of the flannel pajama pants. She smiled when she heard Neala’s breath hitch; her body trembled under Grayson’s touch. As Grayson smiled, she caressed her hip and once again up her spine, then down to the small of her back.