The Order of Brigid's Cross - The Wild Hunt (Book 1): The Wild Hunt (17 page)

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.

She smiled at him. “If you have need of my help, you’ve only
to ask.”

“Thank you, Hettie,” he replied, his heart warmed at her
generous if not absurd offer. “I’ll remember that.”

Em stood in the shadows near the northeast corner of Pete’s
high-rise and waited, ready to spring to action at a moment’s notice.
 
She didn’t totally understand this bond she
had with Sean, but since she’d been in closer proximity to him, she knew instinctively
whenever he was in danger.
 
The pit of
her stomach would twist, and all of her senses would go on alert.
 
Now, however, her feelings were calm, and she
felt no apprehension.
 
Whatever was
happening in Pete’s apartment seemed to be under control.
 

She stayed in the shadows, making sure that if Sean happened
to step out on the balcony and glance down, he wouldn’t see her.
 
He didn’t know she had been following him
and, she admitted to herself, he wouldn’t be happy if he found out about
it.
 
But twice she’d been able to pull
him out of a dangerous situation and he seemed grateful.
 
Batman?
 
She shook her head.
Do I remind him of a man or a creature of the night?
She puzzled
over it for a moment more.
But he said it
in such a complimentary way… Besides,
she thought shaking her head
decisively
. I really don’t care what he
thinks of me.

She paused in her thoughts, looked up to the penthouse
apartment, and sighed.
 
She had never
hidden from the truth; even as a child she had preferred truth over
compassion.
 
And now, she had to admit
the truth, there was something about Sean O’Reilly that attracted her unlike
any man she’d ever met.
 
And perhaps that
was the problem. Once she had bonded with Sean as a child, there had been no
other men.
 
He was in her dreams, in her
thoughts, and now, in her life.

A movement on the balcony brought her springing forward, her
sword in hand.
 
Her use of glamour
allowed her to move among most humans without being detected, but she didn’t
need to use it now because the street in front of the building was entirely deserted.
 
Looking up, she saw the faerie jump
through the patio door, onto the balcony, and then dive from the balcony,
landing on the rooftop of the much shorter building across the street.
 

Em dashed forward, sheathing her sword as she ran across the
street.
 
She looked around the brownstone
and ran to the back alleyway.
 
Finding a
fire escape platform attached to the back of the building about ten feet above
the ground, she jumped up, caught the metal bar on the side and swung herself
up to the first landing.
 
Flattening
herself against the side of the building, she waited for only a moment to
ensure she hadn’t been seen, and then she dashed up the metal steps to the
roof.
 
Quickly looking around, Em could
see that the faerie was half a block away, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with
little effort.

“Oh no, you are not getting away so easily,” Em said,
dashing across the gravel-topped roof and leaping to the next one, following in
the faerie’s path.
 

At the end of the block, the faerie climbed down a fire
escape similar to the one Em had used to get to the rooftop, jumped down, and
disappeared down a gangway between two apartment buildings.
 
Em followed, stealthily stalking the faerie,
more interested in following than apprehending.
 
Em kept herself to the shadows and the ledges of the apartment buildings
and, when forced to come out to the open, stayed low behind parked cars.
 

There was little traffic on the streets of the Lincoln Park
neighborhood, a neighborhood made up of high-rises and brownstones with an
occasional single-family home built between them.
 
The shops on the main streets were a mixture
of eclectic restaurants, exclusive day spas and high-end boutiques catering to
the tastes of the residents.
 
The strains
of blues drifted out of the door of a corner pub but were quickly muffled by
the metallic clanging of the elevated train only a block away.

The faerie turned left onto Oakdale Avenue, a residential
street, and a block later dashed across Clark Street, a main, four-lane
artery.
 
Em wondered where she was
leading her.
 
Most of the fae were drawn
to parks or other places where nature was prominent, but instead of heading
towards the lake or Lincoln Park, she was going in the opposite direction into
the residential area.

Em decided to get closer, just in case they had some kind of
hideout in a home or apartment building.
 
Jogging lightly, she was soon only a
half-block from the faerie.
 
The faerie
reached the underpass of the elevated train, and Em smiled.
 
Surrounded by iron pilings, she was sure the faerie
was incredibly uncomfortable. If she was interested in interrogating the
creature, this would be the perfect opportunity, when she was weakened by the
metal.

Dashing forward, ready to apprehend the faerie, she suddenly
realized the faerie had disappeared.
 
Stopping in the middle of the gravel lot under the train tracks, she
slowly turned around, studying the area.
 
There was no place she could have gone.
  
A train rushed by overhead, its sound nearly deafening, and Em looked up
at it, wondering if the faerie had jumped up and hitched a ride.

She searched the area for another fifteen minutes and
finally decided the faerie had given her the slip.
 
With a sigh of disgust, she climbed the steps
to the train station to ride back to the church on the other side of town.

As she climbed the steps she didn’t notice the ground below
shifting slightly.
 
Two shadowed shapes
emerged from below the earth and watched her, their green eyes luminous in the
night sky.
 
One whispered to the other,
an inhuman chatter that was more like cicadas in the night. The other nodded
and laughed softly.

Em paused at the top of the stairs, peered over the rail to
the darkness and rubbed her hand over the back of her neck.
 
That’s
odd
, she thought, seeing nothing but the empty lot below.
I could have sworn I heard something.

Sean entered the station house at 7:30 am and hurried to the
elevator.
 
He had sent a revised version
of his report to Adrian the night before, and now he needed to act like nothing
out of the ordinary had happened.
 

“Hey, O’Reilly,” Sarah Powers called out as he stepped out
of the elevator on the second floor.

“Yeah, Powers, what do you need?” he asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the donut guy this morning?” she
asked.

Sean slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand.
“Really, today’s my turn?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she walked away in disgust. “My whole day
is ruined,” she muttered. “Thanks a lot.”

Sean sat down at his desk, picked up the phone and punched
in a couple numbers.
 
The phone rang at a
desk across the room, and Sarah hurried across the room to answer it. “Powers,”
she said into the phone.

Grinning, Sean leaned back in his chair and propped his feet
on the top of his desk. “Is this the new recruit for the station?” he asked.

“No, I can’t believe—” she began.

“This is Detective O’Reilly,” he said. “And did you notice
how I just used my title to emphasize that I outrank you?”

Sighing, she nodded. “Yes, I noticed.”

“So, Sarah, I seem to have forgotten a major
responsibility,” he explained, biting back laughter. “And it seems that I might
have even ruined someone’s day because of my negligence.”

“So, you’re going to make it worse, right?” she replied.

“I’ll pay,” he said. “I just need you to pick out and pick
up.”

“O’Reilly,” she growled.

“Think of it this way,” he inserted. “You’ll get the first
pick.”

She sighed. “Fine, I’ll go,” she said ungraciously.
“But only because I’ve been dreaming about a Bavarian Cream-filled
Long John all morning long.”

“Yeah, get at least two of those,” Sean said.
“And Sarah?”

“What?” she muttered.

“Thank you,” he said.

Standing, he walked across the room and handed her a ten and
a twenty dollar bill. “Will that be enough?” he asked.

She grinned and shook her head. “Nope, I think I’ll need at
least forty more,” she said, holding out her hand.

“Yeah, make it do,” he replied. “And I’ll be looking for—”

“O’Reilly,” Captain Douglas called from his office doorway.
“You got a minute?”

“Yeah, sure Captain,” he replied, and then he turned to
Sarah. “Thanks again, really.”

She shrugged. “No problem,” she said, lowering her voice.
“And good luck with…” she motioned with her head in the Captain’s direction, “whatever
that ends up being.”

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied. “I might need it.”

 
He tapped on the captain’s
door before entering.

“Come in,” the captain called.

Sean entered, closed the door and, observing protocol,
remained standing.

“Have a seat, O’Reilly.”

“Thank you, sir,” Sean said, slipping into a chair on the
other side of the captain’s desk.

The captain studied him for a few moments in silence. Sean
wondered if he had heard anything about Jamal, and then an idea flashed into
his mind. Could his captain be one of those working with Adrian?
 
He’d really hate to discover that. He’d
always admired and respected his captain.
 

“So, what are you working on, O’Reilly?” he asked.

Shrugging, Sean tried to look at ease even though his
stomach was turning. “Just some follow-up on routine cases,” he said.

The captain nodded and paused again. “I understand you got
pulled into the incident the other night,” he said. “The
gang
fight
in the park.
 
A young man
was taken into Cook County, and you interviewed him?”

Sean nodded slowly and pasted a casual smile on his face.
“Oh, yeah, that,” he said offhandedly. “Adrian Williams called me in as a
favor.
 
He thought I could get the kid to
talk about what happened.”

“And did you?” the captain asked. “Get the kid to talk?”

Sean had never lied to his commanding officer. He understood
the importance of the chain of command, and he also understood loyalty.
 
He took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes, sir,”
he said. “He did talk to me.”

The captain sat back in his chair, his fingers
steepled
in front of his mouth, and once again studied
Sean.
 
“Would you like to share what he
told you?” he asked.

“Actually, sir, no I would rather not share that
information,” he replied.

A shadow of a smile appeared and then, just as quickly,
disappeared on the captain’s face. “You wouldn’t,” he repeated.

Sean shook his head.
“No, sir.
With
all due respect, I wouldn’t.”

“And what would your father say about your response?”
 
the
captain asked.

Taking a deep breath, Sean thought about his response for a
moment. “He would expect me to obey my oath to serve and protect the citizens
of this community.”

“And you believe that by not telling me what this young man
said, it would both serve and protect the citizens of the community?” the
captain asked.

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“And what if I demanded that you share that information with
me?” the captain asked, pushing his chair back away from his desk and standing.

“I’d tell you that I submitted a report with my findings
last night and you’d be able to get that information from there,” Sean said,
keeping his eyes on the captain.

“And would the report have a full accounting of the
interview?” the captain asked.

Sean paused only for a moment. “To the best of my
recollection, sir,” he said. “It was late and Williams called me in the middle
of the night.”

The captain walked around his desk and perched on the front
of his desk in front of Sean. He pulled a small box out of the pocket of his
suit jacket and opened it. “Stand up, O’Reilly,” he said. Sean stood. Reaching
into the box, the captain pulled out a small, gold lapel pin, stood up and
pinned it on Sean’s lapel. “I don’t know anyone I’d rather pin this on than
you,” the captain said.

Sean tried to look down and see what had been pinned to his
chest. “Excuse me, sir, but what is it?” Sean asked.

“It’s an old Celtic symbol called St. Brigid’s Cross,” the
captain replied softly. “It’s worn by those who have sworn allegiance to an Order
by the same name.”

Exhaling softly with a great deal of relief, Sean nodded and
met his captain’s eyes. “Do you have one of these, too?” he asked.

The captain opened his jacket, and Sean saw the gold pin on
the inside of his lapel. “I have found,” the captain admitted, “that it’s
probably wiser to wear it in a less conspicuous place.”

Sean unpinned it and pinned it to the inside of his jacket.
“That’s a good idea,” he agreed.

“Why don’t you take a few days off on paid leave to work on
that special project I just assigned you?” the captain suggested.
 

Sean nodded. “Yeah, that would be very helpful,” he agreed,
then paused. “What would you like me to do about updates?”

“I believe in matters like these, the less said and written,
the better,” the captain replied meaningfully.

“That makes perfect sense to me,” Sean agreed. “Thank you,
sir.”

The captain offered Sean his hand. “It’s good working with
you, Sean,” he said.

“Thank you, sir,” Sean said. “I feel the same way.”