Page 66 of Revelations

Her head snapped back around. “The morning? That’s fast. How did you know I’d even be finished with my guardian duties by then?” After a pause, she added, “I don’t think my passport is even valid anymore. I haven’t been outside the country since Desert Storm.”

“For one, there’s this thing called travel insurance that takes the risk out of such things. No brainer on that one. And since you leave all your important papers with me, I checked and you have exactly eight years, two months and five days before your passport expires. I renewed it for you a couple of years back when you had temporary insanity and insisted that you were going for a vacation in Bali.”

Greylyn groaned. Yes, she remembered that very well. She had utterly failed in protecting an Amish village from the ravages of a pagan god who had taken up residence in their cornfields. After crying on Thomas’s shoulder, she had vowed to quit this senseless guardian angel business and go on a permanent vacation.

“So we’re all set!”

Seeing the self-satisfied smile on his face, she chuckled before heading down the drab hallway to the guest bedroom and bathroom.

Over her shoulder, she hollered, “I’ll never doubt you again!”

“Damn straight, you won’t!”

***

The shower ran icy cold by the time that she emerged out of the dated yellow tile enclosure. Her body ached with deeply set fatigue, both physical and emotional. Before facing Thomas again, she allowed her towel-wrapped body to fall onto the futon for a much-needed nap. She had not even felt her cheek hit the cushion before a comforting darkness enveloped her.

When she awoke from a dreamless slumber, the room was dark.How long was I out?

Quickly rummaging for some clean clothes in the aged oak dresser next to the futon, she found sweatpants and a man’s white undershirt tank top. It was not suitable for the runway in Milan, but definitely comfortable. Pulling her mop of raven-colored hair back in a sloppy braid, Greylyn put on her armor of courage as she opened the door to face Thomas and his two hundred questions.

The house was dark, except for the dim illumination coming off the large screen plasma television in the middle of the living room. A pot of coffee percolated on the stove, its welcoming aroma wafting over to her. The professor was nowhere in sight, which caused tension to rise in her belly like bile. After nearly losing him—scratch that, actually losing him and getting him back—just a couple of days earlier, she was a tad overprotective.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the back door banged open. Smoke billowed in through the door. Thomas emerged with a platter of food stacked high.

“Dinner is served,” he announced with pride.

“Let me guess, shrimp on the Barbie?” Greylyn joked.

Thomas might be an academic genius and a rough and tumble rugby player, but cooking was not his strong suit. Grilling large portions of meat, and nuking leftovers in the microwave, served as his only culinary skills.

“Well, of course! Figured that we deserved our very own banquet before taking off across the pond. There’s no telling when we’ll get to enjoy such fine cuisine again.”

“Thomas, we’re going to Ireland. I’m sure the cuisine there is more than edible.”

As the platter was about to tumble onto the dirty kitchen floor, Greylyn raced over to catch it. The only casualty was a single skewer of shrimp, bell pepper, and onion.

Dinner was divine; lots of meat, little veggies, and soda. Small talk. For a few minutes, at least, Greylyn felt at ease again. The conversation stayed light as they talked college football and how the sport was far inferior to rugby—at least in Thomas’s opinion. She argued that this year, the ACC would take home the crystal ball even if her favorite team was in the SEC.

Thankfully, he had not questioned her further about her appearance and smell since she’d first shown up.

With full bellies, they retired to his study, so that he could show off his research for their trip. The crest and castle from her vision had been a bust. Based on Greylyn’s scant recollection of the night on which she’d arisen from the grave, there had not been much to go on.

A quick call to Jasper had revealed nothing of consequence. All he remembered about the place was there had been a large lake and a small village. His excuse had been that he’d traveled to millions of places over the centuries that he couldn’t be bothered to try to remember them all. He’d quickly ended the call.

“Guess he’s busy,” Thomas had shrugged. Based on that blip of information, he’d run a search on all the loughs—Irish for “lakes.”

The largest freshwater lakes numbered fourteen, with countless smaller lakes across the country. He brought up screenshots of each for Greylyn to view, in case it sparked a memory.

“How about this one?” Another image popped on the screen. “This one?”

They all looked almost identical to her, and none triggered anything in her brain until one beautiful scene appeared on the computer screen. Crystal clear waters mirrored the sky above, while the lush green shore rose gently at first, and then more sharply, into the hills. The waterway was populated with tiny islands and peninsulas. Greylyn felt a familiar tug deep in her chest. Excitedly, she pointed at the screen.

Lough Erne, County Fermanagh, in Northern Ireland.

Hazel eyes peered at her sideways, as his index fingers tented underneath his chin. “Do you mind if I ask you something?” He paused, as if she would object. “This took almost no time to find. I compiled the list in less than an hour, with the pictures. Within a matter of minutes, you pinpointed the place. Why have you never done this? You could’ve discovered something of your past without ever leaving the house. All you needed was a computer and an Internet connection. Hell, you could’ve found this on your phone! I just don’t understand why you never tried.”

Chewing on her bottom lip, Greylyn honestly didn’t know how to answer. Why had she notdone this before?It was an excellentquestion, but one that was without an equally excellent answer.

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