by Kate Sweeney
“Look, Mrs.—”
She looked up and grinned. “I think by this time in our lives, you can call me Rose.”
Grayson laughed nervously and scratched her neck. “After all these years, I don’t think I can.”
Rose Barry laughed along as she carried the boiling teapot and the tin of loose tea to the table. “This was my grandmother’s finest china.”
“I know.”
“Handed down to me—”
“Yes, I know.”
“Shut up, dear.”
Grayson laughed and continued watching the ancient art of reading tea leaves without further interruption. Rose placed the large teacup, which looked almost like a soup bowl, in front of Grayson, turning it so the handle was on Grayson’s left. She then opened the tin and placed the tea in the china teapot without using a spoon; she picked up the leaves by hand.
Grayson watched with affection, remembering as a child how Rose Barry would say, “Never use a metal spoon. It corrupts the reading.” She poured the boiling water into the teapot and replaced the top, then placed a linen towel over the teapot.
When she returned from the stove, she sat with a groan. “These old bones.”
“You’re not that old, Rose,” Grayson said, surprised at how easily she said her name. It felt natural, as if she should have been saying it all along. This was an odd feeling; though if she were honest with herself, since she got on the plane with her mother and Neala from Chicago, everything had been odd. In such a short time, her life as she knew it was over. She was no longer a detective using her beloved logic to solve a crime.
With the events of the recent past, Grayson now was a part of Irish mythology; she was the true descendant of the gods and goddesses, bestowed with their ancient powers and destined to protect them and Ireland. Not bad for a detective from Chicago. She stared absently at the teapot under the linen towel. She raised an eyebrow. “What’s steeping in that teapot besides tea?”
“We’ll find out soon enough.” Rose adjusted the linen towel.
“I suppose.” Grayson looked into Rose’s smiling blue eyes for a moment before looking around the familiar kitchen. “Nothing much has changed.”
Rose laughed out loud, nearly scaring Grayson in the process. “Oh, darlin’, everything has changed. Can’t ya feel it?”
Grayson gave her a wary glance when she heard the near giddiness in Rose’s voice. Rose reached over and placed her warm hand on Grayson’s forearm. She then turned the arm over to expose Grayson’s left palm. Running her fingers lightly over the crescent-shaped scar, she said, “There is a shift in the universe, Grayson Fianna. And this is the cause.” She lightly tapped on the scar, then sat back.
Grayson immediately felt her palm itch and mumbled, “I don’t want to be the cause.”
“Don’t pout so.” Rose lifted the makeshift tea cozy off the teapot. “Now hold the cup. You remember.”
Grayson, still grumbling, lifted the cup by the handle with her left hand and presented it to Rose, who poured a liberal amount of tea. Grayson watched as the leaves, along with the steaming tea, flowed out of the long, china nozzle of the teapot. She then set the teacup down in front of her.
“Let it steep more.”
Grayson nodded, watching the expanded leaves swirl and settle into the bottom of the teacup. The idea, Grayson remembered, was to sit around, talk about your life and anything else as you drank the tea. When you were finished, Rose would read the leaves as they lay around the bottom of the cup. Grayson would feel better if she didn’t feel like she was drinking from a soup tureen. She felt the urge to relieve her bladder already.
“What I cannot believe,” Rose started and sipped her tea, “is that this is all true.”
“You and me both,” Grayson said and drank the tea. She smiled as the taste instantly brought her back to her childhood when she would sit with her mother and father, drinking hot strong tea and eating warm soda bread or brown bread lathered in butter and jam.
“But it is true.”
“I know. It’s just so hard to believe Ma’s not here sitting with us.” Grayson quickly took a drink, hoping Rose didn’t hear the catch in her voice.
Rose stared at her cup and whispered, “I know, darlin’.”
They sat in silence for a moment before Rose spoke. “She came to me, your mother did.”
Grayson looked at her so quickly, she nearly spilled the tea. “What do you mean?”
“The other night. I was sleeping,” she said and laughed. “I thought I was anyway. And there she was, sitting on the edge of me bed.” She stopped and took a drink. “Take care of Grayson, she said to me.”
Grayson’s bottom lip quivered as she listened.
“She said she fulfilled her destiny, but she left you all alone.”
Grayson held back the sob that threatened to overtake her as she drank the tea.
“Then she said the queerest thing.” Rose leaned forward and whispered, “Liar’s moon.” She narrowed her eyes as if to gauge a reaction from Grayson and waited.
“Liar’s moon,” Grayson said. “What does that mean?”
“I thought you’d know.” Rose sat back, looking dejected. “Maybe the little redhead will know.”
Grayson cocked her head, then laughed. “Yes, maybe Corky will know what it means. He’ll probably find it in his book of wizardry.”
“Don’t sass the gods,” Rose said, then blessed herself.
“Was that the whole dream?” Grayson drank more tea, which was now lukewarm.
“Yes, that was it. I woke up. And as much as I loved your mother, I was grateful not to see her sitting on me bed. But I wish I knew what she meant by liar’s moon.”
Rose looked into Grayson’s teacup. “All right, now hand it to me.”
Grayson obediently handed Rose the cup with her left hand. Rose took the cup and slipped her glasses on the bridge of her nose. Grayson patiently waited as Rose examined the leaves with an occasional grunt.
Finally, Rose sat back and looked at Grayson. “Look at this.” She motioned to Grayson, who leaned forward.
“I see tea leaves.”
Rose ignored her and pointed to one section. “See the way that leaf is situated, and it’s on the left, by the handle. In this position, it’s your immediate future.”
“Okay,” Grayson said. She had no clue what Rose was getting at. “What does it mean?”
“Deception.”
Grayson sat back and chuckled. “Well, that’s nothing new. For the past few months, that’s all—”
“No, that would be your recent past, which is here.” Rose pointed to another section of the cup. “See this leaf? The shape indicates loss but renewal.” She looked up at Grayson and took off her glasses. “This position is your immediate future, and in it is deception.”
Grayson nodded, still not fully understanding, but one thing came to mind. “Liar’s moon.”
Rose nodded and stood. She walked over to the cabinet above the counter. She pulled down a brown bottle and two small glasses. Grayson raised an eyebrow as Rose poured a small amount of whiskey in both glasses. As she examined them, she added a little more to both. Grayson remained silent as Rose corked the bottle and sat.
“I have a feeling here, Grayson.” She sipped from the glass.
Grayson winced as the whiskey warmed her to her toes. “A feeling of what?” she asked when her voice came back.
Rose shook her head. “I’m going to study these leaves. It’s an interesting read. And with Maeve coming to my dreams, and you have this friend coming to you.”
“Who I don’t know.”
“Exactly. Deception. With all that has happened, you must take great care, dear. Where did she come from, I wonder.”
Grayson stared at the whiskey glass. “I don’t know.”
“Darlin’, I want you to know something.”
“Okay, though I’m not sure I want to hear this.”
Rose laughed softly. “Ireland is an ancient country.�
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“This I know.”
“No, I don’t believe you do.”
Grayson looked up when she heard the serious tone. “What are you saying?”
“When I was a young girl, your mother and I were best friends.” She laughed and shook her head. “We’d get ourselves in the most unusual trouble. Her mother was a wonderful woman but very eccentric.”
“How do you mean?”
“I’m not sure if Maeve told ya, but her mother had what the old folks called the knowing. Do ya know what I’m talking about?”
Grayson nodded. Her mind traveled back to that rock dwelling Sister Daniel took her to. She was inside for only a few minutes, but to Corky and Neala on the outside, it was a full twenty-four hours. In those moments, Maeve and Vic visited her and showed her all the generations of women who lived and died to bring Grayson to this point. All of them had the knowing. Now it didn’t surprise her that her grandmother had it, as well.
“What are you thinking?” Rose asked as she lightly touched Grayson’s forearm. “You haven’t said much about what happened the night Maeve died or why she died. And now with Sister Daniel suddenly transferred, it’s all a mystery. Tell me what happened.”
Grayson searched her blue eyes. “It appears, Rose, that Grandma passed the knowing down to me or at least some of it. And it seems I’m some true descendant and—”
“Then it’s true.” Rose sat back in her chair. “Your mother was right. She mentioned it only once. Only once did she tell me of an ancient stone that held all the magical power of the gods and goddesses. They broke into three sections, each piece given to the ones who would protect their section from the dark forces that would use the power of Ireland for their own gains. They would protect it until the exact time when the true descendant would be revealed.” She looked at Grayson in awe. “It’s you. Mother of God.” Rose quickly blessed herself. “It’s true.”
“My mother gave her life for me. The prophecy that Corky had been working on all his life, like his father before, foretold her destiny and mine.” Grayson reached over and took Rose’s hands in her own. “You must always be careful. Always. There is a man who murdered Ma. He’s still out there. I can’t even begin to tell you how evil he is. And he’ll stop at nothing to destroy me, and I’m sure anyone else. So please—”
“You’re not to worry about me. Now who is this man? What is his name?”
“Phelan Tynan. Right now, he’s a millionaire philanthropist. He’s given millions to the National Museum in Dublin, which pretty much gave him carte blanche to do whatever he wanted. Remember in the news last year, the archaeological find here at the abbey?”
Rose nodded. “The stone. It was said to be dated over a thousand years.” Her eyes grew larger as she whispered, “That stone is the stone?”
“Yes, and Phelan procured two of the three sections throughout the centuries, and he took the third stone when the exhibit came back from Chicago to Ireland. He tried his best to reunite the stones and gain the power. But we stopped him, and during the ritual, the stones just…poof.”
“Poof?” Rose repeated.
“Yep. I got the gift, and the stones vanished. So Neala’s problem now is what to tell the board of directors at the museum. We can’t tell the truth. Who the hell would believe it?”
“True enough. I’m having a hard time myself, and I believe all this. Why did he kill your mother?”
Grayson felt the anger rising as it had since Maeve’s death. “He thought she was the true descendant.”
“Grayson, your mother was attacked by a wolf or a rabid dog. But you say he killed her…”
Grayson scratched her head. “He, um, he’s a…” She stopped and winced. “A shape-shifter.”
“He’s a what?”
Grayson nearly laughed at the completely befuddled look. “You heard me.”
“What in God’s name is a shape-shifter?”
“Are you telling me you know about the stone, the knowing, and Irish mythology, but you—?”
“Grayson,” Rose said in a warning voice.
“He can morph into a wolf.”
Rose blinked several times as if to register this information.
“Rose, you look like you’re signaling a ship.”
“Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
“And he’s on the loose?” Rose took a healthy sip from the whiskey glass.
“He is. And I’m only telling you all this so you’ll understand the seriousness of this mess. Phelan is a wizard. His father was an ancient sorcerer, who wanted the power for himself and his son. He didn’t like the idea of it being kept safe. So he defied the druids but didn’t get all the sections. Phelan was sent to procure the remaining sections. He’s evil.”
“I understand,” Rose said in a coarse voice. “This is all too fantastic. But true.”
“Yes, it is.”
They sat in silence; Grayson glanced at Rose, who looked as if she were trying to absorb what Grayson had told her. Finally, Rose spoke. “Now you have someone else to consider. You need to meet this new friend.” Rose lifted her glass to Grayson, who did the same. “Sláinte,” Rose said and downed the whiskey. “Ah, good stuff.”
Grayson did the same and choked. She truly hoped that was not a sign of things to come.
Chapter 5
“What do you think it means, Cork?” Grayson peered over his shoulder. She decided to go back to the monastery and talk to Corky about Rose’s dream before going home and meeting her new friend.
“I’m not sure.” Corky absently leafed through the almanac. “But I will find out.”
Grayson heard the determination in his voice and patted him on the back. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
Corky looked up at Grayson, his green eyes sparkling over the rim of his glasses. “We both know that’s not true.”
“I know, but I can dream.”
“Aha,” Corky exclaimed and sat back.
Grayson once again looked over his shoulder. “What?”
“According to this, there are many types of moons. The basics, you know, waning, waxing, full. But it says here there is also the harvest moon, which naturally occurs after the autumnal equinox. And,” he said and laughed while shaking his head, “what has been called liar’s moon. It is called such because this full moon is shrouded in haze, as if to give the illusion of hiding the moon or its secrets.” He looked up at Grayson. “I love this kinda stuff.”
“The moon has secrets?” Grayson scratched her head.
“Metaphorically speaking, the moon does many things and influences much, as we both know. But in this case, I think perhaps it’s those of us who have secrets under the liar’s moon.” He turned back and leafed through the book once again. “The moon has strange and wonderful powers.”
Grayson stood by the window and looked out at the green hills. “But what did Ma mean when she said it to Rose?” She turned back to Corky. “And why Rose? Why not come to me or Neala or you?”
Corky let out a laughing snort. “Because I would have pissed myself.”
Grayson laughed along at the truth in his statement. “So who’s lying about what and why? Then Rose tells me I have a visitor.”
Corky looked up then. “Really?”
“Yes. She told Rose she was a friend of mine. From Rose’s description, she’s tall, dark, and a Greek beauty.”
“You mean you haven’t seen her yet?”
“Rose thinks she may be at the cottage waiting for me. I just wanted to run this by you first before heading home.”
“Seems very curious, Grayson.”
“Very. I can’t imagine who she is.”
Both stopped when they heard a noise by the door. Grayson walked toward it just as Sister Gabriel walked by. “Good evening, Sister.”
She stopped and turned back. “Good evening, Grayson. You two are working late.”
“We’re just going over a few things.”
Sister Gabriel nodded, lookin
g into the room. Corky stood and nodded. “Hello, Sister.”
“Have a pleasant evening,” she said and continued down the hall.
Grayson watched her until she was out of sight. Corky was right behind her, watching, as well.
“With no disrespect meant,” Corky said, “she gives me the creeps.”
“I hear ya. That’s the second time I’ve heard her in this hall when we’ve been in here.”
“Well, she is Mother Abbess now.” Corky walked back to the desk. “Why don’t we stop for now? You go see to your Greek beauty and I’ll head back home. We’ll start again tomorrow.” He patted Grayson on the shoulder. “Liar’s moon could mean nothing at all, just a dream Rose had.”
Grayson laughed as she walked out. “Corky, after all that has happened since we met, do you really believe that?”
“No,” Corky said quickly. “But I was hopin’.”
As Grayson approached her cottage, she felt a tingling sensation in her left hand. Lately, this was a premonition, for lack of a better word—something odd usually happened. She took in her surroundings and noticed nothing out of the ordinary. She cautiously opened the front door and walked in.
Immediately, she knew something was wrong. Out of habit, she reached for her revolver, which of course was not there. Her mouth went dry as she stepped in and closed the door. She turned on the desk lamp, the room now dimly lit, and looked around. She realized she was alone, but she knew, or felt, some presence. She walked down the hall, checking the two bedrooms and bath, then the kitchen.
“Okay,” she said with a sigh of relief.
As she walked back into the living room, Grayson stopped short when she saw a figure standing behind the desk next to the bookcase. Grayson found it hard to shallow as she stood perfectly still, straining to see who or what was lurking in the shadow of the lamp.
“Who are you?” Grayson asked, her voice as steady as her dry mouth would allow. She had that aching pins and needles feeling prickling up and down her left arm.
The figure didn’t move, didn’t say a word, but ever so slightly walked out of the shadows. It was a woman, that was plain to Grayson, but still she couldn’t see her face.
