Intaglio Publications

Excerpts

Liar's Moon Chapter  One Excerpt - Author Kate Sweeney

“Of course there must be lightning and thunder,” Phelan said as he peered through the tainted window of the limousine. “What a desolate place.”

Beside him, Ian laughed and quickly stopped when he received the glare from Phelan. His dark eyes bore into Ian, who immediately swallowed convulsively. “I could have left you back in Ireland, Ian. When we arrive at this hellhole, I want you to keep your mouth shut and give the appearance of some intelligence.”

Ian nodded. “Yes, Mr. Tynan. I was just thinking—”

Phelan looked up as if pleading for help. “What did I just say?” Phelan raised his hand. “Never mind. What were you thinking?” When Ian didn’t answer right away, Phelan glanced at him. Seeing the confused look, he laughed. “I’m serious, dear boy. You can tell me your thoughts.” He looked out the window once again. “Just don’t get used to it.”

“Yes, sir. I was just thinking this could be an advantageous meeting between you and this Nicholae fellow.”

Phelan never looked back at his employee when he spoke. “I’m sure this meeting will prove beneficial for us both.” He continued staring out at the rainy night. “It must.”

He raised an eyebrow when the stretch limo pulled onto the circular gravel drive and stopped in front of a mansion. Phelan hit the button that rolled down his window; he narrowed his eyes as a feeling of dread tore through him. “This place is evil,” he whispered with a grin. “I like it.”

Even in the darkness, Phelan could see Ian’s pale complexion. “Do get out and open the door, Ian.” For a moment, Ian didn’t move while he stared at the foreboding building. “Before the boogeyman gets you.”

Ian chuckled nervously and exited the limo. He opened the umbrella over Phelan’s head as he walked up the stone staircase.

Perched on either side of the front door, two torches flickered with the wind and rain. “These Romanians are so dramatic.”

Off in the distance, the baying of a wolf mingled with the wind. Phelan laughed openly. “Oh, please. Dracula must be right around the corner. Have these idiots stay in ancient Ireland. My father would have them screaming for their mothers within a week.”

Phelan saw the pure fright on Ian’s face as he tried to laugh along. “Ring the bell, Ian.”

In a moment, a young woman answered. Phelan regarded the pale-faced woman with dark eyes. She gave him and Ian a cautious look. “I’m here to see Nicholae. I’m Phelan Tynan. He’s expecting me.”

The woman stepped back to allow Phelan to enter the dark foyer. The dampness immediately hit him like a wall. It was dark and dreary; once again, flickering torches placed on the walls cast the only illumination. It reminded him of the Irish castles from centuries ago.

“If you’ll wait in this room,” she said and opened two double doors. “I’ll tell my lord you are here.”

“Yes, you do that.” Phelan continued to take in the surroundings. “My lord, what rubbish.” 

“Must be the library,” Ian whispered behind him as the woman left.

Phelan glared at him. “What gave it away? All the books?” He walked over to the roaring fireplace to warm his hands. “Get me a drink.”

Ian quickly found the bar. “Do ya think they’ll mind?” he asked as he held up the whiskey decanter.

“Do you think I care?”  Phelan asked absently.

Ian prepared the whiskey and handed it to Phelan but did not look him in the eye. Phelan had trained Ian well.

When the doors opened, Phelan looked up to see an elderly gentleman standing in the doorway. With his long white hair pulled back, Phelan saw the similarity between them. Though Phelan’s hair was also long, it was coal black, but worn in similar fashion. In this style, it allowed Phelan a perfect view of his face. He expected this man to be ancient, but he did not expect the pure evil emanating from his body. His dark eyes were like glass and his skin the color of alabaster, so transparent Phelan could see the veins running throughout his weathered face and neck.

Behind him was a gorgeous woman. Her flaxen hair fell around her shoulders in thick waves. She was dressed in black, a stark contrast to her white skin and ruby lips. Phelan realized he had been frowning when he looked into her eyes—they seemed to register nothing, like doll’s eyes. There was something odd or off about her, but make no mistake, Phelan thought, she is beautiful.

“Mr. Tynan?” the old man asked as he walked into the room. The blond woman followed.

“Yes. I assume you’re Nicholae.”

“Yes.” Nicholae said. Phelan held out his hand, which the woman took with a grin. “And this is Leigh.”

Phelan saw her razor sharp canine teeth. He glanced at Ian, who looked as though he was about to faint. “This,” Phelan said almost apologetically, “is my assistant, Ian Hennessy.”

He raised an eyebrow when Leigh sauntered up to poor Ian and grinned while she held out her hand. “How delightful,” Leigh said in a sultry voice.

Ian took her hand. “My pleasure.”

“Yes, it is, darling.”

Phelan laughed and gently pushed Ian aside; he stumbled over the ottoman and out of the way. Phelan stood in front of Leigh. “Phelan Tynan,” he said with a sweeping bow and looked up, “at your service.”

Leigh cocked her head in amusement and laughed, as well. “We shall see.”

“Are you all through?” Nicholae asked with an air of impatience. “Can we get down to business?”

Leigh pouted and walked away from Phelan; she sat on the edge of the desk and picked up a book.

“Ian,” Phelan said without taking his eyes off Leigh, “go sit someplace out of the way. The adults have to talk.”

Ian nodded and quickly sat in a far corner. Phelan heard the snicker from Leigh.

“Now tell me just how you think you can help me, Mr. Tynan,” Nicholae said.

Phelan heard the impatience in his voice and set the whiskey tumbler down.

Nicholae glared. “Help yourself.”

“We have a common purpose.”

“Which is?”

“I have someone I need destroyed, and I believe you have someone equally annoying,” Phelan said absently while examining his fingernails.

Leigh’s head shot up; she closed the book. “Sebastian.”

Phelan thought he heard regret in her voice. “Yes, I understand she’s a thorn in your vampire side.”

Nicholae said nothing as he watched Phelan.

“Who is it that you need destroyed?” Leigh asked.

“Grayson MacCarthaigh.” Phelan locked gazes with Leigh.

“Who is he and what is he doing that annoys you?”

“She has something that rightfully belongs to me,” Phelan said. “The annoying part? She’s breathing.”

Leigh laughed and clapped her hands. “Oh, I adore this man. Nicholae feels the same about Sebastian. Now how can you help us and why should we be comrades?”

“Yes, good question.” Nicholae stood next to Leigh and folded his arms across his chest.

“I believe Sebastian is seeking the assistance of an Irish historian I know,” Phelan said. “And I know a great deal. Living for centuries has its rewards. Don’t you agree, Nick?”

Nicholae glared at him. Leigh hid her grin as her eyes grew wide with amusement and what Phelan thought might be fear.

As much as this ancient vampire did not intimidate Phelan, he was just that captivated by Leigh and her beauty. He watched her as she gave Nicholae a side glance, as if waiting for the storm. When Phelan saw his dark eyes turn blood red, it impressed him. When his fangs dropped dramatically, Phelan raised an eyebrow. He then clapped his hands in bored fashion.

Leigh now looked on in astonishment and slightly moved away from Nicholae. “I believe I shall sit with young Ian,” she said and scooted out of the way.

“Do not test me, mortal,” Nicholae said with a snarl.

“I am more than mortal, ancient one,” Phelan said evenly. “I have existed as you have for many, many centuries—”

“Practically eons,” Leigh interjected while she looked down at Ian. “Hello, darling.”

“I know what you are,” Phelan continued. “And I know your time is waning. I also know you want this Sebastian destroyed. She soon may be in league with Grayson. This cannot happen.”

“Who is this Grayson MacCarthaigh?” Nicholae continued to breathe heavily. With his fangs still dangerously protruding, he said, “And what will happen should they meet?”

“They’ve already met,” Phelan said with more impatience than he wanted to show; the thought of Grayson and that vampire had the anger welling inside him. He continued lightly, “I fear they may become bosom buddies in the near future. I cannot impress how dangerous that could be.”

“How can you stop this?”

Phelan shrugged and glanced back at Ian, who had the look of a deer caught in the headlights while Leigh, sitting on the arm of the couch, ran her fingers through his black hair. Her fangs gently nibbled at his ear as she whispered to him. Phelan grinned inwardly and wondered if poor Ian would survive the night. “Please do not kill Ian, my dear.”

Leigh looked up. “Is he your minion?” When Phelan nodded, Leigh pouted. “Nicholae, I need one.”

Phelan laughed and turned his attention back to Nicholae, who glared at Leigh. “Leigh, pay attention.”

 In bored fashion, Leigh grudgingly left Ian and once again stood by Nicholae.

“Now, Mr. Tynan, again, how can you stop this possible alliance between Grayson and Sebastian?”

“Not to worry, Nick. But I will ask you for the time being to stay away from Ireland and let me handle this.”

Leigh pouted again, but Nicholae raised his hand. “I don’t know why I should trust you, Tynan. However, I will give you this time to see if you’re able to assist me.”

Phelan grinned and bowed. “Very gracious of you. This is the start of a good partnership.”

Leigh offered a wicked laugh. “I dare say you could be right.”

“Now I gave you something to assist you. I need it back,” Phelan said.

Nicholae nodded to Leigh, who walked around the desk and opened the drawer. Phelan watched as she produced the ancient athame wrapped in the linen cloth. Leigh handed it to Phelan with a grin. “Thank you. It brought me back from the dead again.”

“My pleasure.” Phelan examined the silver dagger. “It’s my hope to finish this with Grayson, once and for all.”

“And take Sebastian with her,” Nicholae said, still guarded.

Leigh leaned against the desk and swiped the blond wave from her face. “A mighty undertaking for one mortal or…immortal?”

Phelan bowed slightly. “Very perceptive, Leigh. May I call you Leigh?”

Leigh grinned and nodded. “Darling, I insist.”

Nicholae interrupted their banter. “I’m trusting you—”

“You don’t trust me any more than I trust you,” Phelan countered. “We are unlikely comrades you and I.”

“Don’t forget me,” Leigh added.

Phelan smiled. “How can one forget you?” He turned his attention back to Nicholae. “I have waited until the right time. The time is now. I have someone in place as we speak.” Phelan grinned, then laughed. “Let the games begin.”