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

by Terri Reid

  He tried to stand up, grabbing onto the wooden bench next to him and pulling himself up. His head hurt like hell, too. Standing, he looked around and saw a dim light before him. Using the rest of his strength, he stumbled forward slowly, trying to get to the light.

  This might be a trick, he thought. I might be entering some faery torture chamber.

  He paused for a moment, shook his head and then moaned. Damn it, that was dumb. I don’t care if it’s a torture chamber. I just don’t want to sit in the dark anymore.

  He felt a waft of fresh air against his face, and suddenly the terrain seemed to go uphill. Uphill can’t be a bad thing if you’ve been taken underground, he reasoned. Maybe I’m escaping.

  Holding on to the wall next to him, he slowly pulled himself up the hill, his head throbbing and his vision slightly blurred. When he reached the top of the hill, he realized he was above ground. He was breathing fresh air.

  He looked around and saw shadows moving in the distance. He tried to focus and realized that a group of people were coming towards him. Were they fae? Were they coming to take him back underground? He looked around for his sword, but he couldn’t remember where he’d left it.

  He tried to run, but he didn’t have enough energy to even stumble forward anymore. He started to sink to the ground when he heard the voice.

  “Look it’s him! It’s Sean!”

  Em? he wondered.

  “Em?” he called out.

  “Sean!” she screamed, running towards him. “Sean.”

  She wrapped her arms around him, and he just held on, feeling her warmth and her strength. Then he realized what her presence meant and pushed her back. “I told you not to follow me,” he rasped. “I told you not to come.”

  “Guess again, Sean, my friend,” Pete said. “Somehow you got lost on your way to faery.”

  “What?” he asked. “What?”

  “You’re still here,” Em said, her voice thick with tears. “At Soldier Field.”

  “How the hell did that happen?” Sean asked, and then, without waiting for an answer, he promptly passed out.

  Chapter Seventy

  A light was glaring down on him when Sean woke up. He tried to move, but strong hands held him down. “Just a few more minutes, Sean me boyo,” a familiar voice said. “We aren’t quite done with you.”

  “Ian,” Sean croaked.

  “Aye, it’s me,” he said.

  “Where am I?”

  “We’re still at Soldier Field in the infirmary,” Ian explained. “Pete has a doctor friend who does house calls, and he’s seeing to your arm.”

  “My arm?” Sean asked groggily.

  “Aye, the one the Elk King tried to remove from your person.”

  “The Elk King!” Sean struggled to sit up as several pairs of hands held him down. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got to see Hettie. I didn’t go with them. They might come back.”

  “We’ll go,” Em said. “I promise we’ll find her. But just give the doctor enough time to stitch you up.”

  Sean nodded and relaxed back against the table. “How bad am I Doc?” he asked.

  The older man smiled down at Sean and shook his head. “It’s Ben. Dr. Ben Cronin. Well, you have a mid-shaft fractured humerus,” he explained. “But it feels like the bone wasn’t broken all the way through, so you don’t have to worry about any damage to your radial or median nerve.” He took a moment to tie a knot in the final stitch and then cut off the thread before he continued. “I’m just putting a splint on it tonight because I want to be able to make sure the cut doesn’t become infected, and I want to wait until the swelling goes down before we put it in a cast. But I want you in my office for an official x-ray in the next day or so.”

  “Thanks, Ben,” Sean said. “I’ll be sure to get there.”

  Ben secured a splint on Sean’s upper arm with tape and gauze and reached into his medical bag. “Here’s some pain medication,” he said. “Take two of these before you go to bed, and don’t try driving while you’re medicating.”

  Sean nodded. “I won’t,” he said.

  “He won’t,” Pete inserted. “I’m going to play chauffer until we’re sure he doesn’t have any other repercussions from tonight’s adventure.”

  Sean slid off the table and rested against it for a moment while his head cleared.

  “You okay?” Ian asked.

  “Yeah, just a little light-headed,” he replied.

  “That’s to be expected,” Ben inserted. “You lost quite a bit of blood. You should be drinking a lot of fluids and resting. And no alcohol.”

  “Well, I guess the celebration is going to have to wait until after you’ve recovered,” Pete replied.

  “Everything has to wait until I’ve seen Hettie,” Sean said. “Can I go now?”

  Ben shook his head. “Yes, you’re free to go.”

  “Thanks, Ben,” Pete said. “I owe you.”

  Ben shook his head. “Yeah, well count it against all the ones I owe you,” he said.

  Ian helped Sean out the door where Marcus and several of his gang members were waiting. Marcus’s eyes widened when he saw Sean walking out of the infirmary.

  “Dude, I can’t believe you are still breathing! Dude, that thing was the ugliest mother I’ve ever seen in my life,” Marcus exclaimed. “Is that what killed all those other gangs?”

  Sean nodded. “Yeah, that was it,” he said. “That’s what Jamal saw.”

  “Dude, that crazy,” Marcus said. “And it ain’t coming back, right?”

  “That’s what I’m going to find out right now,” Sean said.

  Marcus nodded. “Well, if it comes back, it better watch out, cause you’ll kick its ass again,” he said. “It better not show up with my bro O’Reilly here.”

  Sean smiled. “Thanks, Marcus. I appreciate your confidence.”

  “Hey, no problem,” Marcus replied. “And if you ever need any back up, you call me. We got your back from now until eternity, man.”

  “Thanks again,” Sean said. “I’d trust you with my back, Marcus.”

  Marcus got quiet for a moment. “Thanks, man,” he finally said. “Thanks a lot.”

  A few minutes later, a convoy of several cars made its way to Lower Wacker Drive because no member of the group wanted to take their eyes off Sean. Pete’s car pulled up first, and Sean pulled himself out of the passenger’s side and looked around. Hettie was nowhere to be seen. He stumbled forward, and suddenly Em was at his side, her arm around his waist.

  “Remember,” she said, trying for a light tone. “I’m the bat guy.”

  Rolling his eyes, Sean smiled at her. “That’s Batman, sweetheart,” he replied. “And sometime soon we’ve got to sit down and watch those movies so you’ll get the reference.”

  “I’d like that,” she replied. “Now what do you want to do?”

  “I want to walk around the corner, just to see if Hettie’s there,” he said.

  She helped him walk away from the curb and downhill towards an abandoned, concrete, loading dock that stuck out about ten feet. “Around here,” Sean said, guiding Em around the side. “When the weather is bad, she stays here for shelter.”

  They turned the corner, and Sean saw Hettie’s beloved shopping cart parked in the corner. He slipped from Em’s embrace and, using the dock for support, walked the rest of the way down to the cart. Examining it closely, Sean could tell the cart looked the same. No one had stolen any of Hettie’s so-called treasures from it, and he felt a faint flicker of relief. The only thing out of place was a linen envelope resting on the top of the pile. He picked it up and shook his head when he saw it was addressed to him. Breaking the seal, he pulled out the notecard, which had been written in delicate handwriting.

  My dear Sean,

  I don’t know if you owe me a boon or if, once again, I’m in your debt. I thought about what you said last night and realized faery was not the place for a noble soul like yours. You would soon grow bored of our foolishness. So, I decided to play a
wee trick on the Hunt. If you are reading this, I must assume my little trick worked and I was whisked away to faery and you were sent to someplace safe near the Soldier Field. You have no need to worry about your city. The Hunt will not return. The forfeit was paid.

  I will miss your visits and our friendship. I will always treasure what you taught me about the human race. I cannot promise that I will not darken your doorstep again. I might miss your nightly visits and your tea and scones.

  Be well, Sean O’Reilly.

  Mab

  Chapter Seventy-one

  “Hey, Mom,” Sean said into his cell phone as Pete drove them to the church. “I just wanted to let you know the case went better than expected.”

  “Oh, well, that’s wonderful,” she replied, and he could hear the unshed tears in her voice. “I’m so happy to hear it.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Sean said. “Ma, I’ve got a couple of things to tie up still, and I was wondering if Tiny could stay for another day or two.”

  “Ah, well, I suppose I’ll have to go to the market in the morning for more chicken livers,” she teased, “as your cat has eaten us out of house and home. But for you, darling, of course he can.”

  “Thanks, Ma,” he said. “Give Tiny a hug from me.”

  “Aye, I will,” she said. “God bless you, Sean.”

  “He already did, Ma,” he replied. “He already did.”

  Pete pulled into the church parking lot as Sean hung up with his mom. “Good, you’re off before we have to go in,” Pete said.

  Sean turned to look at his friend. “Yes?”

  “Don’t you ‘yes’ me, Sean,” Pete said, his voice laced with anger. “Why didn’t you tell me about the forfeit?”

  “Because I knew you’d do some dumb-ass thing like roll your wheelchair out to the middle of the field and try to take on the entire Hunt for me,” he said, his voice mild.

  “Well, of course I would,” he said. “That’s what friends do.”

  “But, I needed you to be here,” Sean explained. “I needed you to help the Order, take care of my parents and figure out how to get me the hell out of faery. I needed you to do what you do best.”

  “You could have told me,” Pete grumbled.

  Sean sighed. “Okay, the next time I have to battle a supernatural creature on the fifty yard line at Soldier Field with a sword, I’ll be sure to let you know about any forfeit I may or may not be required to make.”

  “You are a smart ass,” Pete complained.

  Sean shrugged. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

  Pete turned back to his friend and met his eyes. “Yeah, I do,” he said seriously. “You are the only brother I’ve ever had. And don’t you forget that.”

  Nodding Sean smiled. “I won’t.”

  They got out of the car, and Sean was immediately embraced and nearly knocked down by an excited Jamal. “You did it!” he cried. “You did it. You thrashed them.”

  “Jamal, you step away from Sean,” Mrs. Gage called. “Can’t you see that man can barely stand on his own two feet?”

  Sean slipped his arm around Jamal’s shoulders and smiled down at him. “Yeah, I thrashed him,” he said. “And we won’t have to worry about them anymore.”

  Jamal wrapped his arm around Sean’s waist and helped him into the church. When they walked inside, Sean took a sniff in the air and smiled. “It smells like someone ordered food,” he said hopefully.

  “I took the liberty of getting some pizzas delivered,” Father Jack said. “I don’t know if it counts for a victory feast, but I thought you might be hungry.”

  “Famished,” Sean replied. “And pizza sounds great right now.”

  In a few minutes, they were all gathered in Father Jack’s apartment eating pizza and sharing stories about the night’s events. Finally, Jamal leaned back in his chair and smiled. “And I get to go back to school,” he said.

  Mrs. Gage’s smile froze on her face and her slice of pizza slipped from her hands onto her plate. Her eyes glassed over, and she slowly turned to Sean. “He’s not safe,” she said, although it wasn’t her voice coming from her mouth, but a deeper and more ominous one. “There are those who are still looking for the boy, who would use him to harm the Order. You must keep him safe.”

  The room went silent as everyone stared at Mrs. Gage in astonishment. After a moment, she blinked and shook her head, as if waking from a dream, and then picked up her pizza. “How funny,” she remarked, smiling at everyone in the room. “I don’t remember dropping my pizza. This surely is a night for surprises.”

  Sean nodded slowly. “Yes it is,” he said. “And it looks like there are more to come.”

  Chapter Seventy-two

  Sean stood at the front window of his apartment building gazing out across the Chicago skyline and sighed with satisfaction. His city was safe for another night. With a towel slung low around his waist and the dripping garbage bags positioned about his body, he thought about going into his bedroom to dress, but he just couldn’t seem to tear himself away from the view.

  The hot shower he’d just taken had felt amazing, but the maneuvering to keep water away from his cast and other bandages had been more than a little tricky. He’d taped a large, lawn-leaf garbage bag around his arm to keep the cast and stitches dry, then he’d tied a few smaller grocery store plastic bags around various other parts of his body that had been stitched or stapled by the good doctor. Finally, with the water pouring out of the shower head, he’d luxuriated with a bar of manly smelling soap that his mother had purchased for him and the hottest water he could stand and washed the dirt and grass stains from Soldier Field off his body.

  On the way from the bathroom to his bedroom, the window had caught his eye. Knowing he was safe from Peeping Toms because he was on the third floor, he walked over to gaze upon the city he loved. The city he almost had to leave. He moved closer to the window, saw his reflection and chuckled. He looked like a superhero from planet Recycle.

  “Hi,” he said to his reflection, lowering his voice an octave for drama. “I’m bagman.”

  “And here I thought you’d been referring to a bat?”

  Sean spun around; gripping the towel tightly in both hands to be sure it didn’t slip and faced Em. “Don’t you ever knock?”

  “I thought you might be sleeping after the night you had and I didn’t want to wake you,” she replied, the corner of her mouth turned up in a smile. “I had no idea that you were playing dress up.”

  “I’m not playing dress-up,” he replied indignantly. “I’m protecting my wounds.”

  She cocked her head slightly. “The doctor gave you those?” she asked.

  “No, he didn’t. He just told me not to get my stitches wet and this was the only thing I could think of.”

  She nodded slowly. “Aye, oh well, when you put it that way it makes much more sense,” she said, biting her lip to stifle her laughter.

  “You’re laughing at me,” he accused.

  “Oh, no,” she said, lifting her hands in surrender. “I promise, I’m doing my very best not to laugh at you.”

  “I’m going to change,” he huffed, moving past her.

  “Don’t do it on my account,” she said, watching him as he strode down the hall.

  The door slammed behind him and a wide smile appeared on her face. “Aye, he’s a fine strapping lad,” she whispered.

  A few minutes later he was back, dressed in worn blue jeans and a dark t-shirt that showed wet spots from where he’d pulled it over his still damp body. He’d combed his wet hair back off his face with his fingers and the stubbled on his face was dark and pronounced. In Em’s estimation he looked far more tempting than any of the faery she’d ever encountered.

  “Okay,” he huffed impatiently, marching barefoot back into the room. “What did you need?”

  She stuck her hand into her purse and pulled out a small prescription bottle. “You left these in Father Jack’s kitchen,” she said, handing him the pain pills. “I thought you migh
t be needing them tonight and I didn’t want you to go without.”

  Sighing, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Em,” he said. “I was already beginning to feel the pain return. Thank you for bringing them.”

  She stepped up and placed them in his hand. He opened the bottle, poured three of them into his hand, popped them into his mouth and picked up a bottle of water on the kitchen counter to wash them down. “Thank you again,” he said after he swallowed. “Sorry for being an ass.”

  “Ah, well, you are allowed to be an ass on the evening you vanquished the Elk King and you are almost…” she paused and her voice broke. Inhaling quickly, she tried to turn away, but Sean caught her shoulders and kept her in place.

  “Em?” he asked softly. “Are you okay?”

  She sniffled and wiped her face impatiently. “No, I’m not okay, you big, blundering dolt,” she said angrily.

  “I already said I was sorry,” he said, confused.

  “Said you were sorry?” she exclaimed. “Said you were sorry!?!”

  She marched up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down for a passionate kiss. The power of the kiss punched him with nearly as much force as the Elk King’s sword and he almost staggered backwards, but instead wrapped his arms around her and kissed her back. She moaned softly and he deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth, the sweetness that tasted of wild heather and honey.

  “Em,” he whispered, sliding his mouth from her lips and tasting the delicate skin along her jawline.

  “Aye,” she breathed back, her eyes closed, her head thrown back to allow his more access.

  “I like this more than fencing with you,” he said, nibbling on the edge of her earlobe.

  She shivered delicately and laughed softly. “I do too,” she agreed. “But it’s much more dangerous, Sean O’Reilly.”

  “Em,” he said, but this time his voice held more confusion than passion.

  She leaned back and looked at him. His eyes were wide and out of focus. “Sean?” she asked.