Liar's Moon

by Kate Sweeney

  “The knowing?” Sister Michael asked with a good deal of skepticism.

  Grayson nodded. “Sister Gabriel, you asked where I learned the ancient Celtic dialect. When I was in that rock dwelling, I heard women speaking in a language I understood but never learned. All of the sudden, I just knew it. I can’t explain how. I don’t want to go into too much, but I do have certain abilities.” She looked down at the palm of her hand. “I’m not sure to what extent, but I’m learning about them. Trust me, this is all new to me, and I see the look on your face, Sister Michael. Believe me, we are not doing anything against nature or God.

  “You know, my mother believed all things were connected. From Christianity to paganism from practicing Catholicism to Wicca. You may not agree with her philosophy, but no one can argue her love or her faith. The one thing she instilled in me was to be true to myself and what I believe and never forget where I came from. I didn’t ask for this, but here it is. All that Corky has told you is true.” She stopped and looked at both nuns, willing them to believe her. “There is evil out there, and it is in the form of Phelan Tynan.”

  “And perhaps his offspring,” Sister Gabriel said.

  Corky interrupted. “I know this is hard for you, due to the fact it is not sanctioned by the church and probably goes against all you believe in. But it is happening, and we wanted you to know since you are both involved in this. Please be careful whom you trust.”

  “When is this liar’s moon?” Sister Michael asked. Grayson still heard the disdain in her voice.

  “When the moon is full. Two nights, if that,” Corky said.

  Sister Gabriel rose along with Sister Michael. “Let me know if I can do anything. What that may be, I surely do not know. I need time to absorb all of this.”

  Grayson could see the tears welling in her eyes as they walked out of the office, just as Neala walked in. “Good evening, sisters,” Neala said as they walked past. Neala looked at Grayson and Corky. “What’s happened?”

  Corky tossed his glasses down on the desk. “We told them everything. And we have something new.” He looked at Grayson.

  “What? Tell me. I hate that I’m missing what’s going on,” Neala said.

  “Are they gone?”

  They all turned to see Sebastian in the doorway.

  Grayson groaned. “Are who gone?”

  “The sisters have gone, yes.” Corky waved Sebastian into the room. “You’re safe.”

  “If someone doesn’t tell me what’s been going on…” Neala said in a threatening voice.

  Grayson noticed Neala walked away from Sebastian and stood by the window. She also noticed Sebastian’s smirk; she instinctively knew something had transpired between them.

  “Grayson found out the reason behind Sister Gabriel’s cloistered life,” Corky said.

  “I took a trip to Innishmore and long story short, found out that before she was Sister Gabriel, she was Mary Reardon, a sixteen-year-old girl who was basically seduced by an IRA gunrunner. She found herself pregnant with his child.”

  When Neala said nothing, Grayson chuckled. “Did you hear me? I’d think you would have a reaction to this.”

  “I’m stunned. It’s unbelievable. But that’s not all, is it?” Neala asked.

  “Nope.” Grayson rubbed her hands over her face. “It seems Mary Reardon happened to be in the woods one late afternoon and learned something quite disturbing about the lover and father of her unborn child. It seems the gunrunner was also an ancient Celtic, shape-shifting wizard.”

  “Are ya sayin’ that Sister Gabriel had Phelan Tynan’s child?” Neala asked slowly, as if trying to register what Grayson had just said.

  Grayson looked at Sebastian. “That’s what I’m saying, isn’t it?”

  Sebastian nodded. “It is.” She smiled then. “And I thought you and I were the only immortals. This country seems to be crawling with them.”

  “What happened to the baby?” Neala asked.

  “She gave it up for adoption, then stayed at the convent, devoting her life to God in solitude.” Grayson watched Neala, who now looked out the window, her arms folded across her chest.

  Neala turned back into the room. “And she has no idea what happened to her daughter?”

  Grayson shook her head. “No. Only that she was given to the proper Catholic agency and apparently adopted. But that is not substantiated.”

  “By whom?” Neala asked.

  Grayson told them of Irene and her story. Once again, Neala listened completely enthralled. “So that’s where we stand.”

  “Sister Michael was in on this from the beginning?” Neala asked.

  “Another participant in our liar’s moon. That makes two.” Corky looked at Grayson, who nodded.

  “Three. Inspector Gaffney told me she was adopted by a family in Dublin.”

  As they sat in silence, Grayson gazed into the fire, listening to the quiet hiss as the flames flickered around the glowing peat bricks.

  “What do we do now?” Sebastian asked, breaking the silence.

  “We?” Grayson grinned slightly, and Sebastian scowled. “Are you offering your help?”

  Sebastian’s smirk produced two sharp canines. “You can’t possibly think you can handle this alone.”

  Grayson’s grin faded quickly. “I’ve done all right lately, you ghoul.”

  “True, but you still aren’t very good comfortable with your new abilities.”

  Grayson grunted. “And I’m sure you handled being the undead perfectly from day one.”

  Sebastian raised an eyebrow. “Good point. So what are you going to do with this information about darling Megan?”

  Grayson ignored the sarcasm. “I’ll talk to her next. It may be a coincidence.”

  “One thing is ringing true with all this,” Corky said.

  “What’s that?”

  “It would appear there is some truth in the tea leaves. There is great deception around you.”

  “I, for one, don’t blame Sister Gabriel for this lie.” Grayson scratched the back of her head before continuing, “But I’d sure like to know what else she knows. And why she came to the monastery now. She has to know what’s going on with Phelan.”

  “Perhaps she has followed him throughout the years,” Sebastian suggested.

  “Kinda hard being cloistered. They don’t have access to the outside world. And I doubt she’d do something to bring attention to herself and have Phelan find out where she is.”

  Corky closed the book and leaned back. “Do ya suppose Phelan doesn’t know he has a daughter?”

  “Something tells me, Corky, he knows. But does she know her father is an ancient wizard, shape-shifting asshole?”

  Corky winced at the anger in Grayson’s voice.

  Sebastian showed no emotion at all. “A bigger question might be, does this woman have any of his shape-shifting abilities and was she the one who was outside Irene’s cottage?”

  “I can’t help but feel sorry for Sister Gabriel,” Corky said. “Neala, you should have seen the way she nearly broke down when we confronted her. I can’t imagine finding out something like that and giving birth to a child.”

  Neala, still looking out the window, said, “No, Corky. I can’t imagine it at all. I too feel very sorry for Sister Gabriel.”

  Sister Gabriel knelt in front of the crucifix hanging on the wall in her room. Bowing her head, she gathered her rosary beads and began to pray. “Dear Lord, I pray I’m doing the right thing.” She looked up, wiping the tear on her cheek. “I’ve lived my life repenting my sin. Help me to understand what You want me to do next, Lord. I know Your will be done. I pray I may serve You one last time.”

  As she continued to pray, she heard the mournful baying of an animal off in the distance, and her heartbeat quickened. She shut her eyes tight, mumbling her prayers over and over as she held the sacred beads in her hand. “He cannot know. He cannot know,” she chanted and prayed.

  She jumped when she heard the soft knock at her door.
“Come in.” She blessed herself and stood.

  Sister Michael walked in, quietly shutting the door. Sister Gabriel offered her the chair, then sat behind her desk. “Good evening, Sister.”

  “Did you hear it?” Sister Michael asked.

  Sister Gabriel nodded, frowning deeply. “I suppose it would be too much to think it might be a wolf.”

  “Because we have so many in Ireland,” Sister Michael said.

  “It was only a thought.”

  “What will happen, Sister?”

  Sister Gabriel tiredly rubbed her temples. “I don’t know,” she said softly. “I have prayed this day would never come. That he would never find me. I fear he has. When I heard what had happened here months ago. When you called and said Sister Daniel was transferred, I knew it. I knew he was back.” She looked at Sister Michael, who had tears in her eyes. “He has been such a vile entity all these years. My only hope is that he has not found our child, and she is far from here, safe and sound.” She took a deep, saddened breath. “So many years of lying and repentance. I have tried to do God’s work and pay for my sin.”

  “You did nothing wrong, Sister.”

  She smiled sadly. “Yes, I have. I pray God will forgive me and keep my child out of harm’s way, wherever she is.”

  “I’m almost glad Grayson found out about this,” Sister Michael said. “So many years of keeping this in, hiding it. Perhaps she can find your daughter and keep her safe.”

  “I prayed for that, as well.”

  “I hope she is…” Sister Michael stopped.

  Sister Gabriel understood. “I too pray she is not like him. I have prayed with every fiber of my being.” She put her arm around Sister Michael’s shoulder. “You have been a good friend all these years. I remember how I came to you and how you helped me unconditionally. You saved my life and the life of my child.”

  “I pray that is enough.”

  Deep in her heart, Sister Gabriel knew it was not.

  Chapter 24

  It was the sound from the living room that woke Grayson. Her head shot up as she listened. Grayson then heard it again. It sounded as if someone was walking around in the living room.

  Damn Elinora, she thought, and flew out of bed. She crept out to the living room, amazed how the moon lit up the room. Grayson peered through the eerie darkness, fumbling for the lamp on the desk, and turned it on.

  There was no one in the living room, though now she heard something in the kitchen. “I’m gonna kill that immortal if she’s raiding my refrigerator.”

  As she pushed the swinging door open, she nearly had a stroke when she saw a woman sitting at the kitchen table. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her left hand itched so incessantly, she immediately had to scratch at her palm. The woman had long coal black hair that hung in thick waves around her shoulders, and white, almost alabaster skin and rosy cheeks. She looked up and smiled when Grayson walked into the kitchen.

  “Hello, my sweet baby,” the woman said.

  Grayson felt as if she were in a dream. Her grandmother used that term for her all the time when she was a little girl.

  “Who are you?” Grayson asked.

  The woman smiled. “You know who I am, Grayson Fianna.”

  “You-you can’t be.”

  “Of course I can. You only remember me as old and gray, with rheumatism. I like me better this way, don’t you? Sit, darlin’.”

  Completely stunned, Grayson obeyed and sat opposite her grandmother, who lovingly looked around the kitchen. “Oh, how I miss this cottage. You used to sit right there and wait but not patiently while I made bread. Maeve would hold you in her lap, and we’d talk and talk all mornin’. Do you remember how it was?” she asked softly.

  Grayson’s bottom lip quivered as she nodded. “I miss you, Grandma. I miss Ma…” Grayson hung her head and tried desperately not to cry.

  “Oh, darlin’,” Deirdre whispered. “We’re right here for ya. Always.”

  Grayson looked up. “Am I dreaming?”

  “No, sweet baby. You’re not dreamin’. I’m here to warn you. You must use the gift, the knowing. As I helped the villagers and the farmers, so must you. It’s in your blood. You’re the last of us, and it’s your time. There is great evil here. I know you can feel it. Rose Barry was right. The tea leaves never lie.”

  Deirdre leaned over and grasped Grayson’s left hand. Grayson was amazed how warm and soft her grandmother’s hand felt. “Look at me, Grayson.”

  Grayson looked up into the dark blue eyes. “He has help. He will never do anything alone. You know who it is. Use your logic now. When the time comes, use the knowing.”

  “How will I know?”

  “The evil that men do…”

  “Lives after them,” Grayson said, remembering what Sister Gabriel had said. “The one who is marked. His child?”

  “A mark is cloaked unseen,” Deirdre said, repeating the line from the prophecy. “You know your vampire was sent by her maker, just as Danu sent Elinora. Maeve was right, darlin’, we’re all connected. You will see as you grow.”

  “I need to figure out the rest of the prophecy.” Grayson rubbed her eyes.

  Deirdre rose and walked over to Grayson, who looked up through teary eyes. Deirdre ran her fingers through Grayson’s hair. “So much like your mother.” She bent down and kissed Grayson on the forehead, then easily sat on Grayson’s lap, pulling Grayson’s head to her chest. “Close your eyes now.”

  Grayson did as she was told, nuzzling her head against her grandmother. “Do ya remember the song I used to sing to you when you were my sweet baby?” Deirdre whispered.

  She nodded, clinging to her grandmother when Deirdre softly sang, On the wings of the wind, o’er the dark rolling hills; angels are coming to watch over thee.

  “I wanted the chance to sing this to my child,” Grayson whispered as her grandmother sang and rocked her gently in her arms. Visions of Vicky flashed through her mind, when Vicky told her she was pregnant. Grayson never saw such beauty in her life than when she looked into Vicky’s eyes that night.

  Hear the wind blow, love, hear the wind blow…

  Soon, Grayson fell into the most peaceful sleep she had ever known.

  When she woke, she was in bed.

  She walked to the kitchen and looked at the table. “Was I dreaming last night?” she asked and opened the refrigerator. She took out the carton of juice and took a drink.

  Grayson felt very refreshed and rested. “Thanks, Grandma,” she said and headed for the shower. “Now I see Megan Gaffney.”

  Rose Barry greeted Grayson as she walked into Dungarin.

  “Good afternoon, Grayson,” she said, sweeping the front doorstep.

  “Hey, Rose.” Grayson kissed her cheek.

  “What’s put you in such a good mood?” Rose asked, leaning on her broom handle.

  “I had a dream last night or maybe she was really here,” Grayson said thoughtfully.

  “Who?”

  “My grandmother. I dreamed she was in the kitchen. She looked young and beautiful. We talked about…” Grayson shrugged. “Stuff.”

  “A dream was it?” Rose asked.

  Grayson laughed at her doubtful tone. She scratched her head. “It did seem real.”

  Rose leaned against the door. “And do ya not think it was?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Where are you off to?” Rose asked.

  “I need to see Meg, er, Inspector Gaffney. I have a few questions for her.”

  “I spoke with her yesterday.”

  Grayson did not hide her irritation. “Why was she bothering you?”

  “Hold on to that temper of yours. You’re like your father. She was only asking after you. I think she wanted some insight.”

  “What did you tell her?” Grayson asked. “I’m so afraid of this answer.”

  Rose laughed. “We talked about your mother and Deirdre. Things like that.” Rose stopped and grinned evilly. “I think the inspector is cut from the same
cloth as yourself.”

  Grayson glared at her old friend. “What? We’re both detectives?”

  Rose laughed again. “Ya know what I mean. She’s single.” Rose wriggled her eyebrows.

  “You’re a wicked old woman, Rose Barry.” Grayson walked away. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  Grayson walked down to the bed and breakfast at the other end of the village. Mrs. O’Toole greeted her when she walked in.

  “Good day, Grayson. What brings you here?”

  “Is Inspector Gaffney in?”

  “I assume so. She came in very late last night and hasn’t been down yet.”

  “What room is she in?”

  Mrs. O’Toole raised an eyebrow. “End of the hall on the left.”

  “Thanks.”

  Grayson gently knocked on the door and heard a mumbled, “One minute, please.”

  She stepped back when the door finally opened and hid her grin. “Good afternoon.”

  “If you insist,” Megan said in a coarse voice. “What time is it?”

  “Almost noon.”

  “I’m not a morning person.” Megan pulled her robe around her and ran her fingers through her long hair. “I don’t get up with the cows or sheep or whatever is roaming outside my window.” She looked at Grayson for the first time. “How did you get past Mrs. O’Toole? I’m not sure it’s appropriate for you to be in my room.”

  “I have my ways.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Megan sat on the edge of the bed. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I understand you talked to Rose Barry yesterday.”

  “Yes, and I talked to Denis at the pub and a few villagers. Is there something wrong with that?”

  “No, not really.” Grayson watched her for a moment. “What do you want to know? I’ll tell you, if you ask.”