Liar's Moon

by Kate Sweeney

  “Answer me,” Grayson said more forcefully. The woman now stood by the desk in the corner of the room, shrouded by the soft glow of the lamp. Grayson’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest.

  Grayson could easily see her now and quickly took in her appearance—tall, long brown hair, olive skin, dark eyes. Dressed in wool slacks and an Irish sweater. The woman was smiling slightly, leaning against the desk.

  “I’ll only ask you one more time. Who are you?” Grayson asked, never losing eye contact.

  “My name is Elinora, Grayson.” Before Grayson could ask another question, she put up her hand. “I’m here to help you.”

  “Help me with what?” Grayson watched as Elinora gracefully walked around the desk. She seemed preoccupied, as if studying her surroundings.

  Elinora absently picked up a book and leafed through it. She looked at Grayson and grinned. “With whatever it is you need help with.”

  There was something about this strange woman that captivated Grayson, and at the same time, she felt she should be on guard.

  “You’re cautious of me. That’s good,” Elinora said.

  “I’d be cautious of anyone who broke into my home and hid in the shadows like a thief.”

  It unnerved Grayson when Elinora continued smiling, as if reveling in some private joke. However, Grayson was not in the mood for jokes. Too much sadness surrounded her lately; she felt her anger mounting.

  “I have been called many things but never a thief.”

  “Okay, cut the cute routine. Why are you here and what the fuck do you want? And don’t give me the cryptic bullshit.”

  Elinora raised her eyebrows. “Such vulgarity for an immortal.”

  Her words surprised Grayson, who now stood by the desk. She wanted to keep her distance from this woman. “If you don’t tell me what the hell you’re doing in my home—”

  Elinora swept her long brown hair from her face. “You’ll what? Throw me out?”

  “If need be.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. “I highly doubt that. You don’t have that in you—yet.” She then crossed her arms in front of her chest. “That’s where I come in. And you haven’t said a word about how I’m dressed.”

  That comment took Grayson completely by surprise. She regarded Elinora’s dress. To Grayson, it was nothing special. She said so.

  “I’m hurt. I wanted to blend in with the mortals.”

  “Mortals?” Grayson rubbed her forehead. “You’re really pissing me off.”

  Elinora laughed then. “I am sorry. Let’s go for a walk.”

  She walked to the door, stopped, and gave Grayson an inquisitive look. Grayson groaned and opened the door, allowing Elinora to precede her. “Thank you.”

  “Yeah,” Grayson mumbled and followed her outside.

  They walked away from Grayson’s cottage, down the narrow dirt road in silence. It was really irritating Grayson, who frowned deeply but said nothing as they continued.

  “Much has changed in this place over the centuries,” Elinora said in a wistful tone. “As you may imagine, I’ve been around.”

  “But from what starting point?” Grayson asked; she remembered Rose Barry and the tea leaves and kept her distance.

  “Good question.” Elinora stopped and faced Grayson. “I have been sent to help you. Help you with your newfound immortality. Though I have never met an immortal who is also a mortal. We believe this is what is holding you back from understanding your powers.”

  “So I’m getting a crash course on how to be an immortal?”

  “I hear an edge to your voice. Don’t you like being an immortal?”

  “Not particularly,” Grayson said.

  “Hmm.” Elinora reached over and took Grayson’s left hand. She examined the crescent-shaped birthmark. “This is the source of your power.”

  The tone in her voice suggested more of a question than a statement of fact. Grayson couldn’t help but feel very cautious and guarded with this woman.

  When she placed her palm in Grayson’s, Elinora closed her eyes. Grayson watched her warily as Elinora’s eyes darted back and forth. It reminded Grayson of REM sleep. Suddenly, her left arm tingled, and she became dizzy; she felt weak as if she had no strength to pull away from Elinora. In the next instance, Elinora shuddered and sucked in gulps of air. When she quickly let go of Grayson’s hand, both women staggered back.

  Feeling as though she had stuck her finger in an electrical outlet, Grayson flexed her hand in rapid movements. “What the fuck was that?”

  “I wanted to see for myself what all the talk was. You impressed them, Grayson MacCarthaigh. And now I can see why. You have lived a full life.” She reached over and placed her hand above Grayson’s breast. “And this is the source of your strength. It beats honest and true.”

  Grayson looked into her eyes for a moment.

  “I am very sorry for the loss of your woman and your mother. Maeve was much respected, as was your grandmother.”

  For a moment, Grayson felt sick to her stomach at the thought of Vicky and her mother. However, she quickly recovered. “Thank you. Now what’s next?”

  “I’m hungry.”

  Grayson’s mouth dropped. “Beg pardon?”

  “I’m hungry. I haven’t had an iced dessert in centuries.” She turned and started up the road back to the cottage. “Chocolate,” she said over her shoulder.

  Grayson stood there staring as Elinora gracefully walked—nearly marched—away from her. She cocked her head as she watched the shapely hips sway. “An immortal who wants chocolate ice cream.” Grayson sighed and followed. “Why not?”

  “Emperor Nero was the first to have an iced dessert,” Elinora said as she ate her ice cream.

  “Really,” Grayson said dryly. “And you were there?”

  Elinora grinned. “He would have his slaves go to the mountaintops and bring back the ice, then add fruit to it.” She stopped and cocked her head. “I suppose it was more like sorbet, but iced nonetheless. He was quite pompous. Did you know he had his mother killed?”

  “Fascinating,” Grayson said, rubbing her temples.

  “I suppose you had to be there.”

  “And I suppose you were.”

  “I told you I got around.” Elinora wiped the corners of her mouth with the napkin. “You have many friends here.”

  Grayson drank her tea, looking around the store. A few villagers sitting at other tables watched them with a great deal of curiosity. Grayson saw their cautious glances toward Elinora; she didn’t object to the wary glances, she felt the same doubt. “They’ve known my family for many years. Some even remember my grandmother.”

  “Deirdre, yes.”

  Grayson looked at Elinora while she concentrated on her ice cream. “Where do you come from?” Grayson asked.

  Elinora hesitated, not looking at Grayson. “It’s not important.”

  “Humor me.”

  Elinora looked up then and searched Grayson’s face. “You have been given a great gift.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Grayson said quickly and leaned forward. “Now listen to me, Elinora. In the past six weeks, my entire life changed. I’m suddenly the key to some ancient Irish prophecy.” She held up her left hand, showing the crescent scar on her palm to emphasize her point. “And as part of that prophecy, my mother was savagely murdered by some shape-shifting ancient wizard that is still around planning what I don’t know. And for all I know, you could know him, as well. I’ve had to leave America and my job as a detective, which I loved. This gift you so easily talk about may be wondrous to you, but to me, not so much. So start talking and quit with the ‘great gift’ crap.”

  Elinora dabbed the corner of her mouth with the napkin as she listened to Grayson. “That was quite a speech and very good ice cream.”

  Grayson leaned back in her chair, not saying a word.

  Elinora continued, “I don’t blame your frustration. And as I said, I am sorry for the loss of your mother and your woman. I suppo
se you are entitled to an explanation. I can only tell you this. You have been chosen and given this great gift and responsibility. Your family had been chosen long ago, knowing you would be the true descendant. The one to keep the power of the Tuatha De Danann safe from the likes of Phelan and his father, Figol.”

  “I know all this. What are you doing here?” Grayson felt her impatience bubbling to the surface. “And just for the record, Phelan knew all this, as well. I’m still not convinced you don’t know him.”

  “As I said,” Elinora continued calmly, which was really irritating Grayson. “I am here to help you understand and embrace the power you have been given.” She reached across the table and took Grayson’s left hand. “The power is not only here, but in your head and your heart, as well. You are a good, loyal person with a sincere and true heart. You must forget all that has been and be ready to accept all that may be. You must ready yourself, and I am here to see that you are prepared and that you learn how to use the power they saw fit to bestow on you.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  Elinora shrugged. “I suppose you really have no reason to.”

  Grayson felt this woman was still being too evasive for her. There was something she did not trust about Elinora; it unnerved her when she couldn’t figure it out. The words liar’s moon kept creeping up in her mind. For now, she would go along with this goddess or immortal or teacher, whoever Elinora was.

  “Now tomorrow we shall start your training.”

  “Training?”

  “Yes. Just as you trained to be a detective, you shall train to be an immortal. Though being human, as well, will be an obstacle.”

  “How so?”

  “Emotions,” Elinora said. “It has been my experience they get in the way each and every time.”

  “And you have none?” Grayson looked into Elinora’s eyes and waited.

  “No, I do not, which is why I was sent. There is no time for that. So do not attempt anything.”

  Grayson grinned and leaned forward. “Like what?”

  Elinora leaned forward, as well. “We will not be having sexual relations.”

  Grayson tried to hide her shock. She didn’t do it very well by evidence of Elinora’s reaction. “I can see that was on your mind.”

  Was it? Grayson thought. She genuinely laughed, which appeared to catch the immortal off-guard. “Well, I am human. But don’t worry, Elinora, your virginity is safe.”

  Now it was Elinora’s turn to laugh. “I am hardly a virgin. But I am virtuous. We will start soon.”

  “Remember, you are mortal but also immortal,” Elinora said as they walked up the path to Grayson’s cottage.

  “Fine, fine,” Grayson said. “Where are you staying? You can stay…” She turned to see she was standing alone by her front door. “…here if you like.” She sighed and walked into the cottage and closed the door.

  After starting a fire, she went into the kitchen and took the old coffeepot down. She scooped the coffee grounds into the pot and added water. Mindless of what she was doing, she took the metal pot back to the fire and placed it on the bricked section of the fireplace, close to the burning peat bricks.

  Grayson stepped back in confusion. “Why did I do that? Why didn’t I make the coffee on the stove?”

  In the next instant, a vision flashed through her mind: an elderly woman, white hair pulled back, a crucifix hanging around her neck. Bent over the fire, she placed a similar pot on the bricks. The woman stepped back and pulled the shawl around her shoulders.

  She looked right at Grayson and seemed frightened. “Who are you?” the old woman asked and blessed herself. She held the cross that hung around her neck. “Who are you?” she insisted.

  When this vision spoke, Grayson staggered backward, falling into the chair. She was sweating and breathing rapidly. “What the fuck was that?” she whispered. Did she recognize the old woman? Was it her grandmother? She knew it was not. Who was she?

  This was a different vision from the ones she recently had. This woman seemed to see Grayson, as well. And she spoke; neither had yet to happen in these visions. She sat there for some time, the vision mentally draining her. The coffeepot boiling over and hissing on the hot peat bricks brought her back from wherever the hell she was.

  She poured a cup of coffee and sat back again. Once again, there were questions unanswered, which Grayson truly hated. She thought of Rose’s dream about Maeve and liar’s moon. What did that mean? It only corresponded with Rose’s tea leaf reading of “deception.”

  “Lying and deception.” Grayson blew at the steaming cup. “Now all I have to do is figure out who or what or why and how. Sister Gabriel? Elinora? Phelan is a given.” She sighed and put her feet up on the ottoman in front of her. She took a drink, then set the cup on the table. “Simple.”

  She must have dozed off; she woke with a start when she heard the rapid knock on the door. “Okay, okay.”

  It was Corky. “What are you doing here?” Grayson glanced down at the leather-bound book that Corky reverently cradled in his arms. “And I guess whatever it is, it’s in there.”

  Corky laughed as Grayson stepped back; he walked in and shook his head. “Soft night.” He took off his glasses and wiped them on his shirt, which Grayson realized was also wet.

  Grayson looked out at the torrential downpour and winced at the flash of lightning. “Very soft,” she mumbled and shut the door.

  “I couldn’t wait. I think I’ve found a wee bit more about our liar’s moon.”

  Grayson smiled at the joyful tone in his voice. He sat at her desk by the fire and opened his beloved book of Irish myths, legends, and prophecies. She marveled at his knowledge and openness to accept the unbelievable so easily; Grayson envied that in him. All this was so foreign to her. Grayson lived in the real world of good guys and bad guys. You catch the bad guys and put them in jail. Not much of a gray area for her; though now, everything was in that “in between”—the hazy unknown that was now her life. With her mother gone, Grayson realized her destiny, but still deep down, she wanted her old life of being a detective, catching the bad guys. She watched Corky with affection as he leafed through his book.

  “Did you ever think of doing anything else?” she asked, leaning against the fireplace.

  Corky looked up. “Like what?”

  Grayson shrugged. “I dunno. Something that doesn’t involve druids, vampires, wizards, and shit like that.” She was getting irritated. “Ya know, normal, logical.”

  Corky took off his glasses and turned his chair to face her. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Grayson said. “I’m just asking.”

  “Well, then. The answer is yes. I had thought of doing something other than this.” He put his glasses on and continued reading. “But someone is already the pope.”

  Grayson glared when she saw the smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Very funny.”

  “I know this isn’t what you thought your life would be like.” Once again, he looked at her. “But whether you believe it or not or agree, you’ve been given a great gift.”

  Grayson snorted, but she remembered the words spoken to her in that rock dwelling, where she had the vision of her mother, Vic, and all her ancestors, all the women who went on before Grayson who had the knowing. The voice told her she had been given a great gift. At that time, with her mother just murdered by Phelan, Grayson did not feel so thankful for this “gift.” And although she had accepted her fate, or destiny, everything had happened so fast, so furious she hadn’t had time to breathe.

  “I know it’s a gift,” she conceded and walked over to the window. “I just…I don’t know.”

  “The minute I saw you at my doorstep, I knew you were the one.”

  “You fainted.”

  Corky laughed. “Yes, I did. I was astonished. Do you know, while I believe all this,” he motioned to the opened book, “I really never truly believed it would come to fruition. Not until I met you and we deciphered that prophecy. I�
�m sorry, but there really is no turning back.”

  “I know. Ma didn’t die for nothing,” she whispered, damning the tears that flooded her eyes. She looked over at Corky; the look on his face broke her heart.

  “I loved Maeve,” he said, his voice quivering with emotion. He sniffed and looked back at the book. “Now let’s get back to this liar’s moon. When you left earlier, I must have drifted off to sleep. I had a dream.”

  Grayson sat on the hearth, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Oh, no,” she mumbled.

  “Oh, yes,” Corky said.

  “My mother?”

  “Yes, and also a younger woman, blond. They stood side by side.” He looked up at Grayson.

  “That must have been Vic.”

  Corky nodded. “They stood in front of the desk. Vic smiled at me, and Maeve looked around while she was smiling. She looked like she always did.” He stopped when his voice trembled. He looked at Grayson with tears in his eyes. “Ya know?”

  Grayson fought the same tears and only nodded.

  “Then she says to me, ‘liar’s moon will be in your hands soon, sweetie.’ Then I woke up.”

  “Will be in your hands soon? What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. I figure she means in this book. Do you think?”

  “Why not? Have you found anything?”

  “I’ve been looking and reading. So far, I see nothing that even hints to it.”

  Grayson stretched her legs out and groaned. “I’m sure it’s the same thing as with the residual moon. Something will probably happen or some event. But what and why?”

  “Again, I don’t know.” Corky sat back and took off his glasses. “Hey, what happened with your Greek beauty? Did she show up?”

  Grayson laughed. “Oh, yes.”

  Corky leaned in grinned. “Who is she? What’s her name?”

  “Her name is Elinora.”

  “That’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, it is. And as for who she is?” Grayson shook her head. “She says she was sent here to help me with my newfound immortal-ness.”

  Corky turned serious. “Sent by who?”

  “Whom. Sent by whom.”

  “Grayson—”