The Order of Brigid's Cross - The Wild Hunt (Book 1): The Wild Hunt

by Terri Reid

  “Yeah, well, this time the folks after you have supernatural powers,” Sean reminded him. “Watch your back.”

  Pete nodded. “I will,” he said. “And if I run into any problems, I’ll call you.”

  Sean grinned. “Make sure you do,” he said.

  Sean pulled Pete’s wheelchair out of the trunk and set it next to the passenger door. Pete grabbed hold of the arms, lifted himself into it and rolled over to the garage. A small lockbox with punch keys was attached to the frame of the garage. Pete punched in a series of numbers and the box opened. Pulling out his keys and a garage door opener, Pete pressed the opener, then put it back in the box and locked it up.

  He rolled into the garage, unlocked the car and was soon sitting behind the driver’s seat.

  “Be safe,” Sean called, standing next to his car.

  Pete nodded. “Yeah, and if I call, remember to bring your new sword,” he replied with a laugh.

  Sean looked down at the sword laying on the floor of his car and nodded. “You’ve got it,” he said.

  Waiting until Pete had pulled out of the garage, Sean walked over, pressed the button on the garage and waited for the large door to close. Then he climbed back into his car and drove down the alley towards Pershing Avenue. Once he was on Pershing and headed home, he saw a sign for an all-night donut shop and remembered his nightly appointment.

  “Well, damn, I almost forgot,” he muttered, turning into the drive-through lane.

  “I need a large tea with extra cream and honey,” he ordered. “And two blueberry muffins.”

  A few minutes later he was back on the road headed to Lower Wacker Drive and his nightly rendezvous with Hettie.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Pete circled the block a couple of times, just to be sure he wasn’t being followed and then finally drove into the secured parking garage adjacent to his high-rise. He pushed the security card into the reader, and the barrier to the garage opened smoothly, allowing him to drive through, and then closed quickly behind him. His parking spot was located in a bright area right next to the entrance to the lobby, so he wasn’t worried about thugs waiting for him there.

  Rolling into the lobby, he greeted the night watchman. “How’s school going, Jeff?” he asked the young man who was a law student by day and a security guard by night.

  “Great, Mr. O’Bryan,” he replied with a wide smile. “Are you working late on a case?”

  Pete nodded. “Yeah, I am,” he said, pausing before the guard desk. “And it’s one of those cases where a little extra caution isn’t a bad idea.”

  Jeff’s eyes widened. “Do you think you’re in danger?” he asked.

  Biting back a smile at the young man’s enthusiasm, Pete shook his head. “Not if we’re both alert,” Pete replied. “Can I count on you?”

  “Oh, yes, sir,” Jeff said. “If I hear anything, I’ll call the police.”

  Pete stopped on his way towards the elevator and looked over his shoulder. “Do you still have the phone number for Detective Sean O’Reilly?” he asked. “I gave it to you a couple of months ago.”

  Accessing his computer, Jeff looked up and nodded. “Yes, it’s right here,” he said.

  “If anything happens, call Sean,” Pete said. “I’m not sure who the bad guys and who the good guys are on this case. I know Sean’s a good guy.”

  “Got it,” Jeff said. “I’ll call him.”

  “Thanks, Jeff,” Pete said. “Have a good night.”

  The elevator opened, and Pete pushed the button for the Penthouse Suite. Then he inserted his passkey into the elevator controls to allow the elevator access to the top floor. In a few short moments, the doors opened into his suite. Pete pulled out his key and rolled out, then sent the elevator back down to the first floor.

  His alarm system controls were next to the door. Scanning the readout for any irregularities, Pete felt a modicum of relief that nothing was out of the ordinary. He punched in his alarm code and deactivated it before rolling into his apartment.

  The large picture windows in the front of his apartment looked out over the bright skyline of downtown Chicago and the dark depths of Lake Michigan. He placed his briefcase on the table behind the couch and rolled into the kitchen to pull a sparkling water out of the refrigerator. All he wanted to do right now was take a hot shower, change into sweats and relax.

  He took a swig of the water, placed it in the cup holder in his wheelchair and rolled to his bedroom. The view from the bedroom was just as impressive as the one from the front room, the lights from the city sparkling in the distance. French doors in the middle of the wall led to a small balcony that he rarely used, and large picture windows stood on either side. He pressed a button on a control panel near the door, and vertical blinds began to automatically move across the window. He pressed another switch that flooded the room with soft light.

  He was instantly on alert when he felt a rush of wind in the room. Who the hell opened the French doors?

  He started forward when he caught sight of a movement in his bed.

  “Hello, Pete.”

  He automatically reached for the gun he carried in an inner pocket of his wheelchair and pulled it out. “Who the hell are you?” he growled.

  She sat up in his bed, her red hair flowing nearly to her waist and his silk sheet barely covering her naked body. She ran her tongue over her upper lip and smiled. “I’m your fantasy,” she whispered. “I can make all of your dreams come true.”

  He laughed harshly while he secretly pressed the speed dial for Sean’s phone. “Lady, I don’t think so,” he said. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you are really here?”

  “Pete,” she purred, running a hand along the bed. “As you can see, I’m totally unarmed. Why don’t you climb up here and we can get better acquainted.”

  “Thanks, but I don’t really like aggressive women who show up in my apartment unannounced,” he said. “It takes away a lot of the mystery.”

  She dropped the sheet and let it fall to her waist. “Some men don’t like mystery.”

  He had to admit, she was very attractive. Inhumanly so. And he was surprised to find himself intrigued and even tempted.

  “So, what are you? A faery whore?” he asked.

  The comment hit home as her green eyes narrowed and her smile disappeared.

  “You would do well to show some respect,” she spat.

  “I don’t have a lot of respect for women who use their bodies to manipulate men.”

  She lay back against the pillows, the sheet dropping even further and she raised her arms over her head. “Tell me you aren’t tempted,” she whispered.

  He shrugged, trying to maintain an outwardly calm façade while he mentally fought with his own desires. “So, how old would you be now?” he asked with a grimace. “I mean, would this be like making love with my great-great-great-grandmother or something like that?”

  She hissed at him and leapt out of the bed in one graceful move. “Does your great-grandmother look like this?” she screamed.

  Damn, he thought, clenching his jaw so it didn’t drop open at the sight of her naked body in front of him. She was beyond beautiful, she was flawless. Every curve, every inch of alabaster skin was begging to be touched and enjoyed.

  Her eyes widened as though she could read his mind. “Pete,” she coaxed. “I could give you everything. I could make you walk again.”

  He felt a tingle in the muscles of his legs and looked down in shock. “How?”

  “I have powers beyond that of your human doctors,” she breathed as she came closer, stroking a hand down his chest. “You could sweep me up in your arms and carry me away to lavender fields where we could make love all day long. You could run again.”

  She slipped her hand lower, to his abdomen. “You could be a whole man again.”

  He looked up at her and seemed to forget why he was afraid, why he had been cautious. She was only a beautiful woman, a woman who wanted him, and he wanted her.

&nbs
p; She smiled at him, stepped back and held out her arms. “Stand up, Pete,” she said. “Stand up and take what’s yours.”

  He looked down at his legs and saw in amazement that he could actually flex his feet. The shrapnel from the IED had severed his spinal cord, but somehow, he could feel his feet again. Bracing his hands on the arms of his wheelchair, he slipped his feet from the footplates onto the wood floor.

  He nearly cried in astonishment as he felt the pressure from the floor against his feet. He could feel them. He could feel the pain of the atrophied muscles coming back to life. He could feel the blood moving through his calves, making them burn with pain. But it was an amazing pain!

  He straightened up and stood. For the first time in nearly ten years, he was standing on his own.

  She moved up to him, sliding her arms up around his neck, pressing her body against his own. She smelled like summertime and sex. He felt the hunger and the heat. He felt his heart race and his passions stir. He wanted her. No, he needed her. Just as he needed the air to breathe, he needed to make her his own. He needed—

  “What the hell?” Sean yelled from the bedroom doorway.

  Like a dousing of cold water, Pete was pulled back to reality. The room seemed to be spinning, and he reached out. But there was no one there. He looked around, gasping for air.

  He wasn’t standing, he realized, he was sitting on the floor, his useless legs flailed out in front of him and his wheelchair collapsed on the ground.

  “What?” he cried. “What happened?”

  Sean stepped between Pete and the faerie –, his sword glowing with fire. “I think it’s time you left,” he said to the faerie, pulling a small, cork-topped bottle from his pocket. “Does holy water really scar the faces of faeries, or is that just a fable?”

  “It’s just a fable, mortal,” she replied, stepping away from him. “You put that away or I will curse you.”

  Shrugging, Sean stepped closer to her. “I don’t believe you,” he said. He lifted the bottle to his mouth, pulled out the cork with his teeth and spit the cork across the room. “I guess there’s only one way to find out,” he said.

  Screaming, she jumped out onto the patio and threw herself over the balcony into the night sky.

  Sean laid the sword and bottle down then turned and knelt next to his friend who was stone-faced and staring at his fallen wheelchair. “She made me believe I could stand,” Pete whispered hoarsely. “She made me think I could be a whole man again.”

  Sean had never known how much hate he could have for any creature until that moment. She had preyed upon his friend, used his deepest desires and manipulated them to destroy him.

  Placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder, Sean took a deep breath. “Who the hell told you that you aren’t a whole man?” Sean asked.

  “Listen, asshole, I can’t stand up,” Pete yelled.

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Sean yelled back. “That doesn’t make you any less of a man. I see bastards out there every day who can walk on both legs who will never measure up to the man you are. Don’t let some faery whore get into your head, man.”

  Pete chuckled. “She wasn’t real happy when I called her that.”

  “Yeah, I floored the accelerator after that comment. I thought for sure you were going to be toast,” Sean agreed with a grin. “And then the making love to your great-great-great-grandmother. Charming.”

  “I know how to flatter the ladies,” Pete replied, and then he exhaled loudly and turned to Sean. “Thanks for saving me from the crypt keeper.”

  “Hey, no problem,” he replied, reaching over and pulling Pete’s chair next to him.

  “Good thing you were carrying holy water,” Pete said as he maneuvered himself back into his chair.

  “Father Jack gave it to me this afternoon,” Sean replied. “I’m sorry I didn’t think to get some for you. But now we need to faery-proof your apartment.”

  “Do you think she’ll be back?” Pete asked.

  Sean met his friend’s eyes. “I think this war has just begun.”

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Sean slowed down the car as he traveled down Lower Wacker searching for Hettie. He’d received Pete’s call before he’d had a chance to drop off her tea and muffins, and now that Pete’s apartment was secure, he wanted to check on her before he went home.

  A little worried that she wasn’t in her usual spot, he was about to turn the car around and check the area again when he spotted her on the corner, pacing back and forth. He pulled up to the curb, grabbed the bag and the cup and climbed out of the car. She was still pacing and seemed distracted. She didn’t even notice his approach. “Hettie, you had me worried for you,” he said as he got closer.

  She quickly turned in his direction, and he could see that her wizened eyes were wrought with worry. “I should say the same about you, Sean O’Reilly,” she scolded. “There are things about this night that hold more harm than good.”

  Sean had read that people with mental illness often were more sensitive to paranormal phenomena, and he wondered if this was the case with Hettie. He handed her the tea and nodded. “Yes, it’s been a night filled with strange goings-on,” he admitted. “But I was able to hold my own.”

  She sipped her tea and studied him over the top of the cup. “Tell me,” she commanded.

  Shaking his head, he chuckled ruefully. “Hettie, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he replied.

  She snaked her bony hand into the bag and pulled out a muffin. Taking a large bite, she met his eyes. “Tell me,” she said through a mouth full of food.

  Leaning back against the street post, he nodded. “Okay, I will,” he said. “But only if you promise me that if you see anything like a big cloud or a tornado approaching you will get away quickly.”

  She stuffed another portion into her mouth. “A cloud?” she asked, nodding as if she already understood.

  “Yeah, a cloud,” he repeated, making sure she comprehended the seriousness of the situation. “Don’t worry about your cart. I’ll replace everything, I promise. You just have to promise to get out of harm’s way.”

  She smiled at him, and for a moment, the insanity was gone from her eyes. “You are a good man, Sean O’Reilly,” she said softly. “And I am honored to be your friend. Now tell me.”

  He watched her eyes change back to the furtive nervousness he’d come to expect, and he wondered once again what tragedy had caused her to become who she was. “Okay, Hettie,” he said, stifling a yawn. “I’ve promised you a story and a story you’ll have.”

  He recounted the story of the Wild Hunt, and she listened with avid attention, devouring her food and drink while she listened. Wiping a grimy sleeve across her face and releasing a burp that would have made a man twice her size proud, she nodded to him. “You did fine, Sean, just fine,” she said. “A braver man wouldn’t have done what you did this night.” She paused for a moment and sent him a devilish grin. “Nor would a smarter man.”

  Chuckling, he nodded. “Yeah, it was a little stupid, I agree,” he replied. “But it was the only thing I could think of at the time.”

  “And the magic sword?” she asked. “Did you keep it?”

  He nodded. “Yes, and actually it came in handy this evening when I had to chase a faerie from my friend’s bedroom.”

  “I’m thinking he was not too pleased with that,” she said, with a sly wink.

  “Actually, once I broke in on their little tête-à-tête he seemed much more himself,” Sean said.

  “Ah, yes, they spin their glamour around mortals so most don’t know which way is up,” Hettie acknowledged.

  Sean was taken aback for a moment by Hettie’s familiarity with faery tricks. “How do you know about glamour?” he asked.

  She paused for a moment and seemed to consider her words. Or maybe, Sean thought, she is just trying to remember when in her life she first heard that term.

  “My family is from the old country,” she replied, squinting her eyes and glancing up
at him. “I know a bit of the traditions of the Sidhe.”

  “My family used to talk about the faery folk, too,” Sean said. “My grandmother was the most superstitious.”

  “Aye, well is it superstition or knowledge?” Hettie asked with a rising of her eyebrows.

  “Good point,” Sean said. “I would now gladly bow to Grandma’s far greater knowledge. Especially after the encounter in Pete’s bedroom.”

  “And did the slut run away at the sight of the sword?” Hettie asked.

  Sean grinned at Hettie’s word choice, deciding the faerie wouldn’t have been too happy with that designation either. “Well, she didn’t run away at first, but when I threatened her with holy water, she was out the window in a flash, her long, red hair trailing behind her,” he said.

  Hettie’s eyes sharpened. “Red hair?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Sean nodded. “Clear down to her—”

  He paused for a moment and Hettie cackled. “Her arse?” she asked.

  Chuckling, Sean nodded. “Exactly.”

  “Well, that’s surely interesting,” she said, thoughtfully fingering her chin. “There are certainly curious things happening in Chicago.”

  “And I have a feeling that it’s going to get curiouser and curiouser,” Sean replied.

  Hettie placed her frail, claw-like hand on Sean’s arm and held it tightly. “You watch yourself, Sean O’Reilly,” she said. “Do not trust the fae. They are a tricky and ungrateful race. They have no loyalties or allegiances. They care for themselves, first and only. Do you understand?”

  Her tone was solemn and her face, grim. He nodded. “Thank you, Hettie,” he said. “I understand.”

  She loosened her grip on his arm and stepped back, shaking a little. “Good,” she said. “Now light my kindling and be off with you. You’ve wasted enough of my time this night.”

  Grinning, he knelt down and lit the small pile of sticks and paper until the flame was steady. “There you are, my lady,” he said, offering her a slight bow.