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

by Terri Reid

  “No!” she stammered, trying to step away but coming to the horrifying realization that she couldn’t move. “I don’t want this. I don’t believe in love.”

  He slowly moved his other hand up her arm, caressing her skin with his fingers. “So soft,” he sighed. “So inviting. So ripe.”

  Her breath caught and her body trembled at the power of his touch.

  “How does this make you feel?” he asked softly as he continued caressing her.

  She moaned softly as he pulled her body against his and slipped his hand into her hair, grabbed a handful, and immobilized her so she couldn’t turn away. He lifted his head and held it just inches from hers. She could feel her body pulsating with need. Her breath was escaping in small gasps and she was feeling light-headed.

  He smiled triumphantly as he looked down at her flushed face and widened eyes. “How does this make you feel?” he demanded.

  “Frightened,” she confessed, wondering if this heart-pounding panic was really what humans desired in their relationships. “Please, I don’t—”

  “You don’t want to disappoint me,” he interrupted. “How sweet.”

  She was at war with her own body, caught under some kind of spell. She didn’t want to desire him, didn’t want to feel out of control. But she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  “I’m not ready,” she pleaded as the fog of desire clouded her reason.

  His lips curved in a vicious smile. “Good.”

  He crushed his lips against hers with an aggression that bruised her lips and ground her delicate inner mouth against her teeth. She tried to pull away, but he clenched her hair in his fist and yanked her head back, forcing her mouth open. He then plundered it mercilessly. He pushed against her, tripping her backwards until she was against the wall, pinned against his hard body. She felt his free hand gliding underneath her shirt and moving from her waist down her side, slipping into the waistband of her yoga pants and pushing them down.

  No! her mind screamed through the fog. I am not my mother. I will not end up like my mother.

  She struggled against him, trying to stop his hand, trying to get some space between them, trying to stop the onslaught against her body. Finally, she grasped his upper arms and pushed with all her might, forcing him to release his hold on her.

  He stood only inches away, his eyes glittering with dominance and satisfaction.

  She lifted her hand to her swollen lips and stared at him in shock. “I don’t understand,” she sobbed.

  He took a quick, shuddering breath and smiled coolly. “No you wouldn’t,” he said with a contemptuous manner. “Although I have to admit, I am both surprised and disappointed.” He straightened his jacket and shrugged. “I thought since your mother was a whore, you know, you might have inherited some of her passionate tendencies. But no such luck.”

  Reeling back as if he had struck her, Em shook her head. “No,” she breathed. “What are you saying?”

  Sean shrugged and walked towards the door. “I’m just saying you should stick to fighting,” he replied with a smirk. “Unless, of course, you want to bore a man to death.”

  He walked out, closing the door sharply behind him. Em stared at the door, slowly sinking down against the wall until she was seated on the floor. She gasped for breath as the pain of his words sunk in, and she felt as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest. She stared at the door, her vision clouded by her tears, and screamed, “I hate you, Sean O’Reilly, you bloody bastard! I hate you!” Then she buried her head in her hands and wept.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  Sean parked his car back behind the church and texted Ian that he’d arrived. He opened the back door of the car and picked up a camo-colored canvas shotgun case that now housed the broadsword. It doesn’t look great, he decided, but for now it’s better than carrying the exposed sword everywhere. He slung the case over his shoulder and walked towards the back door.

  Ever since he’d left the station, he’d had a nagging feeling about Em, and he’d feel a lot more comfortable when he could see for himself that she was safe. Ian opened the door before Sean reached it and greeted him with a cheery welcome. “You going to do some duck hunting today?” Ian asked.

  “Yeah, right,” Sean replied, following Ian into the church and securely closing the door. “As soon as I finish up with my faerie hunting. I had a wild time last night at Pete’s place.”

  Gillian joined them in the hall. “What happened?”

  “Some femme fatale faerie decided to try her luck with Pete,” he said. “I had to convince her that the party was over with my sword and some holy water.”

  “They’re not going to be too happy with you,” Gillian said. “You’ll need to watch yourself.”

  Sean shrugged. “I’m not too worried,” he said.

  “How’s Pete?” Ian asked.

  “He was fine when I left him last night, once we faery-proofed his house,” Sean replied. “I called this morning, but he was already in meetings.”

  “Well, do you have a moment?” Ian asked. “Gillian and I have some things we’d like to show you.”

  Sean nodded. “Yeah, sure,” he said, and then he looked around. “Where’s Em? I thought she’d be down here with you.”

  Gillian smiled. “Well, I think she’s up on the third floor in the gym,” she said. “Em mentioned that she wanted to look at the old fencing gear so she could teach you how to use your new weapon.”

  Sean unzipped the gun case and pulled out the sword. “Yeah, I’m all about learning the ins and outs of this baby before I slice a foot off,” he agreed. “Would you mind if I went up first?”

  “No problem. Go and find Em,” Ian suggested. “Then bring her down and we can show you both what we found.”

  Nodding, Sean hefted the sword over his shoulder and hurried down the hall towards the stairs. “Great, we’ll be down soon,” he said.

  When he reached the third floor, he saw the double doors with the words “Gymnasium” painted over them in black, block letters. It brought back memories of his days in high school. He hurried over to the door and pushed it open. Em was standing on the other side of the gym, her own sword in her hands, performing a series of moves that looked like something out of a martial arts movie.

  “Hey, good moves,” he called out, eager to see her smiling face again.

  She froze in her steps, but didn’t turn his way.

  “Em?” he called, slowly walking towards her. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought we could go a few rounds, you know, just for practice.”

  She stood still, listening to his footsteps echo on the gym floor. He dare approach her? What did he think? They’d go another round just so he could assault her and leave her once again?

  Just minutes earlier she had pulled herself off the floor and turned her pain into anger. How dare he treat her in such a way? How dare he touch her without her consent? How dare he taunt her with insults about her own mother? The rage she felt inside was just beginning a slow simmer, but she was more than fine with turning up the heat.

  Her sword clasped in both hands, Em turned and, with a wild war cry, charged Sean.

  “Whoa!” Sean cried out, backing up quickly. “Hey, give me a chance. I’m new at this.”

  But she wasn’t retreating, and if the look in her eye was any gauge to her mind set, he was going to get his ass kicked big time. He lifted his sword in front of his body and shifted his weight so he was resting on the balls of his feet for more agility. “Okay, let’s have it,” he said.

  She lifted her sword and set it crashing down against his. He felt the hit all the way to his shoulders, but he was able to knock her sword to the side and pivot sideways, bringing his sword up against hers in a cross blow. She spun around and then swept her weapon around at shoulder height, causing Sean to jump back in astonishment.

  “Hey!” he yelled. “You almost took my head off.”

  “That might be an improvement of your looks,” she spat bac
k.

  Puzzled, he shook his head. “Um, Em, is there something we should talk about?” he asked.

  “No,” she said, lifting her sword again. “The time for talking is gone—now it’s time to defend yourself.”

  She rushed him, but in her anger, she overstepped her abilities. Rattled by the earlier incident, she knew she was thinking clearly or strategically. Although she was more agile than Sean, he was a few inches taller and quite a bit stronger. She should have calculated that strength and height into her attack, but instead, she wanted to punish him and scare him away. Instead of retreating, however, he stepped up and met her parry for parry, pushing her slowly backwards. She fought hard, swiping and lunging, but his counters were every bit as solid and she started to feel her muscles tire.

  “Do you want to stop?” Sean asked, seeing her fatigue.

  “Why? Do you think I can’t take it?” she demanded. She lifted both arms over her head, the sword clasped in both hands, and ran towards him with a cry of anger.

  A little surprised at her advance, Sean knew she thought he’d retreat, giving her more room to maneuver. So instead, he grabbed both the hilt and the blade of the sword in his hands and charged her, using his broadsword like a quarterstaff and catching the blade of her sword against the flat of his own.

  He continued to charge forward, forcing her back until finally she was against the wall, her arms and sword captive by his. She looked up at him, his face only inches away, his eyes filled with triumph, and suddenly she was frightened. She turned her face away, her cheek pressed against the cool brick of the wall. “Please don’t hurt me again,” she pleaded.

  “What?” he exclaimed.

  She dared a glance at him. He seemed truly puzzled. What game was he trying to play?

  She could feel his heat, she could see his exhaustion, she could smell… She stopped and inhaled slowly. His scent was different. It wasn’t dark woods and musk. It was more…

  She thought back to his apartment, to the scent that wafted from the steamy bathroom into the hall. It was more masculine, less…less fae!

  Her eyes widened and she looked up at him. “How long have you been here?” she asked, a horrible realization coming over her.

  “Here, like at the church?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I spoke with Ian and Gillian for a few moments downstairs, and then I came up here to work on sword handling.”

  “You’ve only been up here once today?” she asked.

  He looked down at her as if she was losing her mind, and, God help her, maybe she was. He lowered his arms and his sword, but didn’t step away from her. “I’ve only been up here once,” he said. “When I walked through that door a few minutes ago, it was the first time I’d been in this room.”

  She lowered her sword to her side, closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’ve a great deal to apologize for,” she sighed. “I’m ashamed of myself, twice over. Once for believing them and once for doubting you.”

  “Would you like to repeat that?” Sean asked. “In English?”

  “We’ve been compromised,” she said, her voice firm. “And we have to warn the others.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Ian and Gillian looked up from the computer screen when they heard footsteps running down the hall. Keeping Gillian behind him, Ian dashed to the doorway to see Sean and Em running in their direction.

  “What?” Ian asked, seeing the concern in their faces.

  “We’ve been infiltrated,” Sean said. “A faery took my shape and attacked Em.”

  Gillian moved around Ian and hurried to Em’s side. “Oh, Em. Are you all right?” she asked.

  Em nodded quickly. “He might still be in the church,” she replied, all business. “We need to check—”

  “Jamal,” Gillian interrupted, pushing past them and running towards the staircase. “He’s probably after him.”

  They all hurried up the stairs to the second floor and ran down the west wing towards the rooms that housed Jamal and his grandmother. The hall was empty and there was no noise coming from the small apartment. Gillian pounded on the door. “Jamal! Mrs. Gage!” she called. “Are you in there?”

  The sound of shuffling feet could be heard through the door, and moments later it was opened a crack when Mrs. Gage peered out. “What’s the problem?” she asked, her voice shaking with fear. “Have the police come again?”

  Gillian breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’m sorry for frightening you, but there was an...an intruder in the church. We just wanted to be sure you and Jamal were unharmed.”

  Shaking her head slowly, she looked at the others in the hall. “Do you want to come in and see for yourselves?” she asked.

  “If you don’t mind, Mrs. Gage,” Sean replied. “That way we will know you haven’t been coerced.”

  Mrs. Gage snorted. “As if someone else was gonna tell me what to do,” she said, opening the door and letting them in.

  Jamal sat at a desk in the corner of the room working on school work. He looked up and started to speak but was cut off by his grandmother. “You can talk to them after you finish your school work,” she said.

  Em looked from the boy to his grandmother and stepped forward. “I beg your pardon,” she said. “But the creature we are searching for has the ability to assume other shapes. I would like to hear from Jamal that he is safe.”

  “Assume other shapes?” Mrs. Gage repeated, looking at the group gathered around her. “But then how do I know that you all aren’t demons yourselves?”

  “Well, of course we aren’t demons,” Ian said. “Why in the world would we come to your door and tell you about ourselves if we were trying to trick you?”

  “To gain her confidence,” Em said. “That’s how the fae work. They trick you and manipulate you.” She turned to Mrs. Gage. “They cannot touch iron. It burns their skin. So, if you doubt one of us, all you have to do is ask us to touch iron.”

  Glancing around, Mrs. Gage spied a cast iron kettle lying next to the stove and picked it up. “Will this do?” she asked Em.

  Em nodded. “Aye, it will,” she said. She stepped forward and stood before Mrs. Gage. “Now, you need to know that because I am half-fae, the iron will burn my skin slightly. If I was the one we are seeking, I would not be able to stand the pain.”

  She lifted her hand to touch the kettle when Sean jumped forward and grabbed her hand before she could lay it on the pot.

  “No,” he said, holding it back. “There is no reason for you to harm yourself to prove the point.” He turned to Mrs. Gage. “If I prove that I’m not fae and I vouch for Em, will you be satisfied?”

  “Of course,” she said. “If you’re not the demon, then you’ll tell me the truth. I trust you and I trust Em.”

  “Thank you,” Em replied, touched at the trust the old woman would offer her.

  Sean placed his hand down on the kettle and held it there. “I am not the demon, er faerie,” he said. “And Em was the one who discovered that we’d been infiltrated and I will vouch for her.”

  Ian and Gillian hurried forward and placed their hands on the kettle with the same results.

  Mrs. Gage nodded and then turned to her grandson. “Jamal, you come over here right now and touch this kettle, hear?”

  Jamal stood, smiled at the group and nodded. “Sure, grandma, no problem,” he said.

  He walked away from the desk and, at the last moment, dashed past them across the room to the door, flung it open and ran out.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  “Jamal!” Mrs. Gage screamed. “They’ve taken my Jamal.”

  Sean was out the door and after the faerie immediately.

  “Ian and Gillian, you check on Father Jack,” Em commanded, standing in the doorway for a moment. “And then check the rest of the church for Jamal. Mrs. Gage, stay here and wait for us. And keep hold of that pot.”

  Running out the door, Em saw Sean turn th
e corner and dash down the stairs. She followed, quickly gaining on him and running alongside of him as they chased the creature through the hallway of the church.

  “Do you think he’s playing with us?” Em asked, as they ran after him. “Trying to lead us into a trap?”

  Sean shook his head. “He looks more scared than calculated,” he replied. “Besides, it’s not a trap if we know where we’re going, right?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Right.”

  They chased him through the first floor and nearly had him cornered near the chapel, but at the last moment, he feinted to one side and charged past them. Sean tried to tackle him but missed him by inches. Em charged after him, her sword held above her head, ready and eager to take him out. The faerie looked over his shoulder at Em, and his eyes widened as he increased his pace.

  The faerie, still disguised as Jamal, stopped at the top of the stairs that led down to the basement, looked around frantically and then dashed down the stairs. Sean stopped Em at the top of the stairs. “Wait just a second,” he said. “The doors to the basement are all boarded shut, right?”

  She nodded. “Yes, we boarded them from the inside and the outside, as well as the windows and any other openings,” she said. “And we used iron nails to be sure the fae couldn’t sneak up on us.”

  Nodding, he looked down the stairwell and smiled slightly. “Okay, I admit I don’t know a whole lot about faeries, but my da is passionate about old churches,” he said. “And this church was one of my da’s favorites, so I got to hear about the architecture a lot. I happen to know this church was built with Cream City brick, from Milwaukee.”

  Em shook her head impatiently. “Yes?” she encouraged, hoping he would hurry with his explanation so she could follow the faerie down the stairs. “And I need to know that now because?”

  “It’s red clay,” he said. “High iron oxide content.”