GODDESS OF THE MOON (A Diana Racine Psychic Suspense)

by Polly Iyer

  Compton broke into a broad grin, but there was no mirth in his eyes. “No, Diana, I don’t. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to connect me with the satanic cult operated by the man who rented my house.”

  “Not at all, sir, but you do seem inordinately fascinated by my abilities.”

  Slater stepped forward. “I’m sure Silas’s curiosity is more about the mystical aspects of your gift, Diana.”

  His voice sounded tense and cautionary. Diana sensed he intervened to redirect the prickly dialogue between her and Compton.

  “Ah, gift. Such an elusive word. Many times I thought it more a curse than a gift. Remember,” she said, trying to smooth things over, “I was very young and idealistic. Most of all, inquisitive. Why did I have this gift? I couldn’t imagine the force that created it. I still don’t understand why or how it works. Sometimes people have difficulty separating my psychic powers from the mystical. As I told Edward, I stopped intellectualizing my abilities long ago, gave up searching, and let things fall into place wherever they landed.”

  “You’re a fascinating woman, Diana. I’m honored to know you. I hope we can delve more deeply into these subject at a more convenient time.” Compton paused, but his eyes never left hers. “Just the two of us.”

  A darting glance toward Slater revealed nothing. “It would be my pleasure, sir,” she said. They started toward the main hall. “Is your wife interested in mysticism, Mr. Compton?”

  “Selene is interested in everything. That’s why I married her. She’s much like you, without the psychic ability.”

  “Only taller,” Diana said.

  They all laughed, but when they got to the main room, Compton left them to tend his guests. Slater blocked her way and spoke in hushed tones. “Don’t provoke Silas Compton. It’s unwise.”

  “Is that what I was doing?”

  “You know damn well you were. He’s not an idiot.”

  “What’s going on here, Edward? What do you know?”

  “Not now.”

  “When?”

  Selene approached, Lucier on her arm. She clung to him like rooted ivy.

  “Diana, you have a very interesting friend. He’s kept me entertained while you got the grand tour. I hope we get to see more of you both. I’m so wrapped up in my boards and charities and foundations I forget everything else. Do let’s make plans for another get together.”

  “Sounds terrific,” Diana agreed, hoping she sounded like she meant it. “Let’s.”

  Selene squeezed Lucier’s arm and flashed a smile sensual enough to ignite a forest fire. Diana felt her own fires burning, and she hoped the steam wasn’t shooting out her ears. Selene lingered on Lucier a moment longer, then moved away with the grace of the Degas dancer in the pastel that hung in her sitting room.

  Bitch.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Break Up or Make Up

  Lucier read Diana’s anger, but he wasn’t sure he understood it, and he sure as hell didn’t know how to approach her sulk on the ride home.

  “Okay, let it out,” he said. “You’re pissed because Selene Compton was all over me while you were sounding out her husband. And if you’re listening, I said she was all over me.”

  “You didn’t have to enjoy it so much.” Her words were clipped and she kept her eyes straight ahead.

  “Aren’t you the one who accused me of being jealous of Edward Slater?”

  “Edward’s…different.”

  “Well, I didn’t know that at the time. Even though I have two advanced degrees, he made me feel I wasn’t smart enough to be in your conversation. You don’t have to be sexually attracted to a woman to be interested. An intellectual connection can be just as powerful.”

  Diana didn’t answer.

  If she’s going to be that way, let her. Two can play the same game. He pulled up in front of her house, put the car in park, but didn’t shut off the engine. He waited for her to get out.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” she asked.

  “We’ve both had a trying day,” he said. He kept his words as tight as hers, faced front. “Get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  She didn’t move. A few moments passed. “I’m sorry.” Another minute. “Don’t go.”

  Lucier turned to her. “I love you, Diana, and a woman who means absolutely nothing to me flirting for one night isn’t going to change that, not even your childish reaction to something so insignificant.”

  “I’ve never been jealous before.”

  “I don’t play games. Yes, I was upset about Slater because you reacted to him. He’s a damn attractive man, and he has a connection to you I don’t have. I wish I did, but I don’t.”

  “Selene Compton isn’t attractive? She’s drop-dead gorgeous, and she clung to you like flypaper. Edward is attractive, and yes, we share things in common, but I’m in love with you.”

  Her hand stroked his arm, and a ripple of need skittered through him.

  “Turn off the car and come inside,” she said.

  “It’s been a long time for me. Eight years long. I told you once that I’m just an ordinary guy with no extras. I didn’t know about Slater’s problem, but he hit me where I’m the most insecure. As far as Selene, I was playing her game. Isn’t that what this evening was about?”

  “Yes. I’m wrong, you’re right, and there’s nothing ordinary about you. Now shut off the car and come in, or I’ll really get mad.”

  “You really know how to get under my skin.”

  “I know. I’m a brat. You can spank me.” She grinned and he shook his head.

  He turned off the ignition. When he got around to the other side and opened the door, she took his offered hand and led him into the house. A low light glowed from a lamp in the living room. She didn’t turn on another.

  “Stand there and don’t move,” she said.

  “But―”

  “Don’t speak, either.” She threw her shawl on the sofa, then proceeded to unbutton her blouse.

  He reached for her, but she danced away.

  “I said don’t move.”

  He watched her slip each button through the buttonhole and slide the blouse off her shoulders. She unbuttoned her skirt, letting it fall in folds at her feet. Stepping out of its confines, she kicked it and the blouse behind her before removing her underwear, leaving only the high-heeled sandals her only ornament.

  Lucier felt the swelling in his groin. He reached again, but she waved her finger no. “I don’t know how long―”

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? Quiet.”

  He visually traced her naked body. Her skin shone incandescent in the dim light; blue highlights shimmered off her black curls. He stood, fully clothed with an erection primed to bust his zipper. How much more could he take?

  She started undressing him in the same methodical way she’d taken off her own clothes. First the jacket, then the tie and shirt. She ran her hands over his chest, before unbuckling his belt and letting his slacks fall to the floor. She left on his boxers and pressed her naked body against his bare torso. Heat shot through every part of him, and he visualized him levitating from the pleasure.

  “Have I ever told you I love the color of your skin, the smoothness of it?” she said “Your smell, your taste?”

  “Diana―”

  “Shh. That was a rhetorical question.” She bent down, took off his right shoe and sock, then picked his foot up and out of his trousers. She did the same with the other foot. He never realized how much desire hurt until now.

  “You’re moving.”

  “That’s because I’m not dead. I’d have to be dead to stand still while you’re running your hand up my leg.” The moan rose from deep inside. “Enough.”

  “If you move, it’s over. I’ll lock myself in the bathroom and you’ll be forced to jerk yourself off.”

  “This is torture worse than waterboarding.” Christ, he was begging the woman to stop pleasuring him. He must be deranged. “Have pity.”

 
“No pity. Don’t move.” She kissed her way down his chest until she got to the waistband of his shorts.

  “Fuck it! That’s enough. You’ve proved your point. I accept your apology.” He picked her up. She weighed almost nothing, a tiny perfectly-formed woman, skin like cream velvet.

  “You didn’t let me finish,” she teased.

  “Look at me. I’m finished. You finished me. If you kept going there’d be nothing left for you.”

  She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck. “I thought a tough guy like you could go all night, and then some.”

  “Not this one. Not if you kept doing what you were doing.” She laughed. God, he loved her laugh.

  Then he kissed her all the way to the bedroom as if she were dessert. She tasted sweet, like honey, and smelled deliciously spicy. “I love the scent you wear.”

  “It’s Opium. The perfume.”

  “No wonder they named it after a drug. It’s intoxicating.”

  “You weren’t supposed to do this, you know,” she said. “I had plans.”

  “So do I. Very special plans.”

  She bit his neck. “Remind me to pick a fight with you more often.”

  Chapter Twenty -Three

  The Never Retractable Word

  The next morning, Diana arrived at the Sunrise Mission without advance notice. She wore black jeans, a white blouse, and her hair pulled into a high ponytail. Slater was sitting at the entrance desk looking over a sheet of paper when she entered. He didn’t seem surprised to see her. His longish hair was damp from his shower, and he wore khakis with a gray short-sleeve polo shirt that matched his eyes. His arms were tanned and well-muscled. The place smelled of fresh coffee and maple syrup.

  “I suspected you’d drop in today,” he said, “but after lunch―after I called.” He emphasized the last comment to make a point. “I’m running late. Just got here myself.” He carried a steaming cup of coffee. “You’re an impatient woman, Diana.”

  “Yes, I am. I wanted to know what you meant last night.”

  “Coffee’s in the kitchen. Wait in my office. I have a few things to attend to.”

  Diana looked around. The mission was busy. Breakfast food still covered the sideboard, while one woman cleaned the table and set new places. When she scooted around the tables and into the kitchen, another woman was putting dirty dishes into a huge dishwasher. An industrial-sized coffeemaker sat on the counter next to a plastic-wrapped stack of waffles. Still another woman opened the oven to check on two large pans of macaroni and cheese that Diana assumed comprised part of the lunch menu.

  As people sauntered in, a server asked them not to take more than they could eat because waste left someone else hungry. A good philosophy for every home, Diana thought. She poured a cup of coffee and made her way to Slater’s office.

  The papers and folders on his desk were arranged in neat stacks. Edward Slater was an organized man. The red light in the vent verified the active camera. She remembered Lucier saying it activated when someone came into the room. Damn. She would have liked to try the cupboard to see whether it was locked, but she dared not. Instead, she perused the book titles in his library. For an atheist, he owned a good many books on religion, including the Bible and St. Thomas Aquinas’s Summa Theologica, which she pulled from the shelf.

  “A great philosopher, some think second only to Aristotle,” Slater said.

  “I wouldn’t know. Religion is not my strong point. I was raised in the hellfire and damnation philosophy. Do bad things and God will get you. You don’t study that, you accept it. Later, I drifted into the curiosity phase of my life―which my father seriously frowned on―and finally settled into the “I don’t know” period. Even though my gift points to a higher force, I’m still there.”

  “I’ve always found agnostics take that stand to hedge their bets on getting into heaven rather than take a stand against the apocryphal God.”

  Apocryphal. I guess that would be a good word for an atheist when discussing God. Diana thought about that one and agreed. She’d seen too much to discard the theory of a supreme being, but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t buy into theocratic ideology.

  “I didn’t come here for a philosophical discussion, Edward. I came because I want to know what Compton is up to. Why is he interested in me?”

  “Compton is fascinated by your powers, but he’s put off by your arrogance. He knows you think he’s involved in a satanic cult. You’re not very subtle.”

  “He is involved.” She told Slater about seeing her hand turn black and skeletal when Compton held it. “He’s evil, and you know it.”

  “I don’t know it. Your psyche is controlling your visions, and they’re off base. Silas is a generous mentor. Why would he jeopardize everything to embrace Satanism? It doesn’t make sense. I’d be a more likely disciple.”

  “Are you?”

  He took the book from her hand and slid it back into its place on the shelf. “No.”

  She sensed his irritation. “I know what I saw.”

  “Silas Compton, for all the good he does, can also be a formidable adversary. I would think long and hard before screwing with him. And that dream you announced to everyone in the room? You described a satanic ritual of which you were the offering. You don’t have to be a Satanist to get the picture.”

  “It wasn’t a dream. It happened. Compton drugged me and served me up to his group. I’m not crazy, Edward.”

  Slater shook his head and let out a long breath. “That didn’t happen, and you’d be unwise to broadcast it. Silas can do you a lot of good. You heard him. You gave him an outstanding reading. One word from him and you’ll have a second career one could only dream of.”

  “I don’t want a second career. I’ve already had two. And I don’t remember one second of my supposed reading with Compton. Not one word. I can’t be bought, can you? Is his evil money that important? Surely you’ve made enough connections now to support your mission without Compton.”

  “First of all, his money isn’t evil. You’ve gotten that into your head, and you’re wrong. Secondly, am I bought by money? You’re damn right I am. Do you know how much it takes to run this place? Food, beds, electricity, rent, and a hundred other expenses to keep it going? We get a pittance in federal money. Without Compton’s funds and a few other generous benefactors, the people who come here would be sleeping in boxes on the street and scavenging in Dumpsters. Yes, I need his money, and I won’t do anything to throw a monkey wrench into my relationship with him. Including my relationship with you.”

  Diana froze at his words. “I didn’t know we had a relationship.”

  “Yes you did. You know and so does your cop. He doesn’t like it either.”

  Blistering heat circled Diana’s neck. What was it about this man that both irritated and attracted her? He was so sure of himself. So goddamn sure. Well, she didn’t like someone taking for granted who she was or wasn’t in a relationship with.

  “What do you think we have, Edward? The same kind of relationship you shared with Jeanine Highsmith? Are you looking for a donation?”

  Slater looked stricken. Diana wanted to take back her words, but words spoken can never be retracted. They hang in the air like an endless echo in an empty room.

  “I don’t need anything from you, Diana,” he said calmly. “You’re the one still searching.” He went to the door and opened it. “You’d better leave. Please make an appointment with my new secretary if you need to see me again.” He avoided looking at her as she passed by.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “You didn’t deserve that.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t. Good-bye, Diana.”

  Diana left feeling like a slithering bottom-feeder. What possessed her to insult him? It was as if she had no control over her words. Edward Slater never mentioned money to her. Was his manipulation more subtle by implying a relationship? Or did they have some special symbiosis she refused to acknowledge. Lucier said that intellectual relationships were just
as strong as sexual ones. Maybe, but despite what she knew about Slater, he emitted vibrations that were far more than academic. Could it be her imagination? Every time she was in his company, he never let her touch him more than a passing brush of her hand. What was he afraid of? If he was holding something back he didn’t want her to see, he’d buried the secret deep in his soul. Now she’d never get the chance to find out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  When Dreams Become Reality

  That morning, when Lucier arrived at the station, Beecher was waiting at the back entrance. “We’ve got a situation.”

  “What kind of situation?”

  “Two guys say they broke into Silas Compton’s house to steal his paintings and were attacked by a group of monsters.”

  “Are they high on meth, coke? Drunk?”

  “Nope, just scared shitless.”

  “How in hell did they get into that compound? It’s guarded like the White House.”

  “That’s the interesting part. They said one of Compton’s daughters, Maia, drove them in while they hid in the back of her car. She told them which paintings to steal. Said she had a buyer.”

  Lucier shook his head. “Impossible. I’ve met Compton’s daughters. Neither one would defy her father. In fact, I doubt anyone does.”

  Beecher tucked his persistently unruly shirt into his pants. “Just telling you what they said.”

  Confused, Lucier headed toward his office. He made a mental inventory of the case file and added the two cryptic notes targeting Diana, who was sure everything tied together into one evil package because of a bad dream. He wanted to add Edward Slater and the Sunrise Mission into the mix, but he wasn’t sure the green-eyed monster didn’t have something to do with that.

  In crime fiction, the cynical hero cop always says he doesn’t believe in coincidences. Lucier did. Coincidences happen, but in this case they stretched credulity. Everything seemed to connect, only he didn’t know how.