The Order of Brigid's Cross - The Wild Hunt (Book 1): The Wild Hunt (7 page)

Although the apartment located on the second floor of the
church building was dated, it felt warm and welcoming.
 
The walls had been painted the color of wheat
just before the harvest. The area rugs were vintage Oriental with colors from
nature, from a deep sunset rose to a vibrant forest green. The leather
furniture was old and worn enough to resemble the texture and color of tree
trunks, and the pictures on the wall were landscapes of nature like birch
forests in the fall and a full moon rising over a primordial forest.
 
Gazing around upon entering, Sean felt like
he was stepping into a forest and not the typical residence of a man of the
cloth.

“I like your apartment,” Ian voiced Sean’s thoughts as he
looked around the room.

Father Jack smiled, but Sean felt there was a secret behind
it. “Well, it’s comfortable,” the priest said. “And it makes many of my
associates feel more relaxed.”

“I can see why,” Ian said, sitting next to Gillian on
a large
, leather, love seat. “It’s reminds me of the forests
back home. I can almost smell the scent of the trees.”

Turning quickly at Ian’s words, Father Jack took a moment to
study the young man before he spoke. “That’s an interesting observation,” he
said slowly.

Ian shrugged easily. “It was just a passing thought,” he
said.

Sean sat on a chair where he could watch the faces of all of
the members of their small party. He knew there was an underlying secret shared
between Gillian and Father Jack, and the priest’s reaction to Ian’s simple
comment was another piece he needed to add to the puzzle.

“Now that we are up here,” Sean said, “why don’t we get down
to business? What is the information you have for us?”

The priest leaned forward in his chair, placed his elbows on
his legs and
steepled
his hands in front of his face.
“First, I need to give you a little background,” he said. “How well do you know
Irish history?”

“Probably less than I know about American history,” Sean
said, “which starts and ends with a high school American History course.”

“I’ve studied it a little,” Ian said. “But it was not my
major field. As I recall, Ireland has a long history of being conquered by many
different groups, all wanting the island for themselves.”

Nodding his head slowly, the priest gazed around the room,
meeting the eyes of each of the members of their party before moving on to the
next. “I’ve a story to tell,” he said. “And if you will humor an old man, I
promise to answer your questions.”

Then he began to speak and Sean soon found himself
mesmerized by the words. “Ireland is an old place. Although the earth itself is
the same age wherever we travel, there are still some places upon it that seem
older
than others.
 
Sequoia National Forest, Easter Island,
Stonehenge, Machu Picchu, and the Egyptian pyramids are just a few of those
places scattered throughout the world.
 
And sometimes, nestled within seemingly normal places, there are spots
where the ancient world touches the modern one.
 
There are no signs that point out these anomalies, no border crossings
or geographical markers, but those who stay in tune with the earth know when
they’ve found such a place.
 
They can
feel it in the subtle difference of the air against their skin, in the chills
up their spine, and often the instinctive recognition of coming home to a place
they’ve never been before.”

Sean recalled the woods beyond his grandmother’s home in
Ireland and shivered. Yes, he understood exactly what Father Jack was speaking
of.

“
Perhaps because it is such a place the Tuatha da Danann decided to
invade ancient Ireland and call it their new home.
 
No one knows where they came from.
 
The early texts of Ireland only speak of a
people who arrived in flying ships,” the priest continued.

“Flying ships?”
Ian
interrupted.
“As in UFOs?”

Standing, Father Jack walked over to a small bookcase and
pulled out an ancient, leather-bound book. “This is the
Lebor
gabála
Érenn
or
The Book of the Taking of Ireland
,” he
said, carefully turning to a page that had been saved with an old bookmark.
“This is an accounting dated 1150
a.d
.
The people of Ireland remember their arrival this
way, ‘
In this wise they came, in dark clouds
from northern islands of the world. They landed on the mountains of
Conmaicne
Rein in
Connachta
, and
they brought
a darkness
over the sun for three days
and three nights. Gods were their men of arts and non-gods their
husbandmen.’"

“So the early occupants of Ireland thought these guys were gods,”
Sean said. “If you had any kind of advanced civilization, I don’t think it
would be that hard to do that.”

“Please, let me continue,” the priest requested, and at Sean’s
nod, he went on. “
These tall, red-haired and fair people were able to
conquer the
Fir
Bolg
,
who many say are the ancestors of the leprechaun or were a race of goblins, and
the
Fomorians,
another fearsome
warrior tribe, and claim the land and the people as their own.”

He stopped and studied both Ian and Sean. “Have you no
comments about leprechauns?”

Sean shrugged, “I’m trying to be open-minded here.”

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are
dreamt of in your philosophy,” Ian responded.

The priest smiled widely. “Ah, Shakespeare,” he said.
“Very good.
Very good indeed.
So, I
will continue.”

“
The Tuatha da Danann
were
different from the earlier conquerors of the island.
 
They were a magical people who charmed the
natives of the island and intermarried with them, sharing their red hair and
blue eyes with generations of Irish.
 
The
royal
class of the Danann were
teachers of medicine,
smithing, communication and druidry, and the lower class were farmers or
shepherds,” he said. “So advanced were they in their science and medicine that
the
Lebor
Gabala
Erren
tells of
Nuadu
Airgetlam
, the king over the Tuatha da Danann, surviving
the injury of having his arm hewn off during battle. This would have been a mortal
wound for most people.
 
But even more
amazing, the ancient text goes on to state, “
but a silver arm with activity in every finger and every joint was put
upon him,”
which replaced his original arm
.
At that point, he could rule again.”

Sean sat forward in his chair. “Wait. What? Are you talking
about a functioning prosthetic arm in the twelfth century?”

Father Jack nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,”
he said.

“That’s impossible,” Sean replied. “That kind of technology
wasn’t available then.”

“Or perhaps it was and it was lost,” Father Jack suggested.

“So what happened to these guys,” Sean asked, “if they were
so amazing? How could anyone conquer them?”

“Actually, they were nearly invincible. The only thing that
seemed to harm them were weapons made of iron,” the priest said. “They ruled
the people of Ireland for nearly 200 years. Then, ancient texts tell us that
the Milesians, invaders from northwest of the Iberian Peninsula, attacked the
island.
 
The Milesians defeated the
Tuatha da Danann.”

“How did that happen?” Ian asked. “They seem like a fairly
advanced civilization.”

Nodding his head in agreement, the priest turned to Ian.
“There are many different versions of what happened next.
 
The most prevalent is that when the Milesians
came, the Tuatha da Danann knew that a battle with them would incur a great
number of casualties, so they made an agreement with them.
 
If they took their ships out to sea and were
able to once again land upon the coast of Ireland within the space of three
days, they would share the land,” he said. “The Milesians agreed and went out
to sea. The Tuatha da Danaan caused a great storm to occur, so great that they
believed their enemies would not be able to land their crafts.
 
But they underestimated them, and so,
according to the agreement, they allowed the Milesians to divide the country.”

“So who took what?” Ian asked.

“Well, the Milesians were not foolish, and they had heard of
the magical powers of the Tuatha da Danaan. So the cunning Milesian truce
entailed that the Tuatha da Danann could have all the land under the ground
while the Milesians kept all of the land on top of the ground,” he replied. “The
Tuatha da Danann retreated to underground sites scattered around Ireland that
are still renowned today for their mystical qualities, like
Brugh
na
Boinne
.
 
These underground sites are said to be
portals to
Tír
na
nÓg
, the land of eternal youth.”

“I’ve heard of
Tír
na
nÓg
,” Ian said. “That’s the
land of the faeries.”

The priest nodded again and smiled. “Yes, the
Truatha
da Danann remained beloved by the people of
Ireland, who later revered them as gods,” he said. “And as history became
legend, they were known as the ‘People of the Mounds’ or ‘People of the Sidhe,’
which is the Irish word for mound. Later, that was shortened to Sidhe, and,
after many centuries, they were known simply as faery.”

“Faeries?”
Sean asked dubiously, standing up and facing Father Jack. “This whole thing was
about a faery tale? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Not an idiot, but a wee bit foolish and strong-minded, yes,” a
familiar female voice said from behind him.

Sean whirled around. “What the hell?” he whispered.

Just like this morning in his apartment, the tall,
red-haired woman stood before him, an older version of the girl in his
dreams.
 
She was dressed in a flowing green
tunic, blue jeans and tall, brown, leather, high-heeled boots.
 
Her long hair was loose, trailing down her
back. “
’Tis
not hell I’ve come from,” she said
softly.
“But a place not too far distant.”

“Who are you?” he stammered.

Gillian rose and placed her hand on Sean’s shoulder, tightening
her hold when he involuntarily flinched. “Sean, I’d like you to meet Emrie
Murdock.
Em to her friends.”

Shocked, Sean turned to Gillian. “You know her? But she’s
not real.
 
She’s…I don’t know what the
hell she is.”

“Aye, you do know,” Em stated softly. “You just don’t want
to believe.”

“I don’t believe in things that are impossible,” Sean
insisted, shaking his head. “Is this some kind of trick?”

“No, Sean, not a trick. It’s never been a trick or a spell
or even a hallucination,” she said. “When you were poisoned by the Heldeofol
the only way to save you was to mingle our blood. We are bound.”

“My apartment…,” he began. “You disappeared…”

“Well that’s a little trick called faery glamour,” she
admitted with a shrug. “It lets you fade into your surroundings like a
chameleon.”

“So, you were still there, in my apartment?”

She nodded.
“The entire time.
It
was intriguing to watch you tear your dwelling apart looking for me.”

“Yes, but…,” then he froze, and a slight red hue appeared on
his cheeks. “I, um, I took a shower.”

A half-smile formed on her lips, and she met his eyes, her
own dancing with mirth. “Yes, you did,” she replied evenly. “And a fine,
strapping lad you
are
.”

Sean opened his mouth and finally closed it when he realized
he had absolutely nothing to say.

Gillian, feeling sorry for Sean, decided to intercede. “I’m
sorry. I called Em and asked her to check on you,” she admitted. “After what
Ian messaged me, I was worried about you.”

Looking back and forth between the two women, he shook his
head. “You know each other?” he asked.

“Aye,” Em replied. “We both belong to the Order.”

“The Order?”

Taking a deep breath, Father Jack leaned forward and nodded.
“And that will be the next part of our story,” he said. “So, Sean, why don’t
you sit down and let me explain the rest.”

In a shocked stupor, Sean slowly sat back down in his
seat.
 
“Please, Father, explain so I can
assure myself I am not losing my mind.”

But as he heard Em’s soft chuckle behind him, he wondered if
any explanation would help him keep his hold on sanity.

“For the moment I’d like you to suspend your disbelief and
take the information I just shared as a possibility,” Father Jack said. “Can
you do that?”

Sean nodded, still trying to take it all in. But then he glanced
over at Ian who was sitting back in his chair.
 
One leg crossed over the other, his chin on his hand, he was studying Gillian,
who was still standing next to Em. The usual look of adoration for his fiancée
had been replaced by another, more intense gaze.
 
This was a look Sean had seen before when Ian
was studying out a problem, when he was intense, calculating, logical, and
allowed no room for emotion.

“Ian?” he asked.

Ian turned, but it took a moment for him to stop his thought
process and answer. “I don’t know, Sean,” he finally said.
“Gillian,
a moment please?
In private.”

Ian stood, walked over to the door, opened it and stepped
outside into the hallway.

Gillian followed him and closed the door securely behind
them. Ian stood, facing away from her, looking down the narrow hall.

“Ian, what is it?” she asked.

“I’m a little overwhelmed here. I’m not only trying to
accept the information the good father is sharing, but suddenly I’m realizing
I’m not sure I know the woman I’m engaged to,” he replied, finally turning
towards her. “Who are you?”

“Ian, I’m still me. The woman you met in Scotland,” Gillian
insisted, taking his hand. “I’m still the person you fell in love with. But in
the past few months, while you’ve been here in the States, I’ve had a whole
world open up before me.
 
Things I never
considered before, important
things,
are occurring
right before our eyes.”

“You could have told me,” he said, shaking his head
emphatically. “You could have let me know what you were doing.”

She took a deep breath and shrugged helplessly. “It wasn’t
my story to tell,” she replied, hoping he would understand. “I took an oath
that I wouldn’t talk about it. And now, as soon as I was able, I shared. All I
ask is that you keep an open mind.”

He pulled his hands from hers and strode farther down the
hall. “An open mind, that’s all you ask?” he questioned harshly. “You ask me to
suspend all logical and scientific data and believe in faery tales. That takes
more than just an open mind. That requires one to step into the field of
impossibility.”

Gillian stood where she was and folded her arms over her
chest, glaring back at him. “
Oh,
and there’s nothing
you’ve asked me to accept that’s beyond believability?” she threw back at him.
“Oh, aye darling, I’m just living with a cute little brunette for nearly half a
year, but truly, nothing’s going on. We’re just watching dead people together.”

“I never laid a hand on Mary,” he shouted back.

“Aye, I know that,” she yelled back. “And I know it because
I trust you.
 
I trust you with my heart,
you oafish, stupid
Scot.
Do you think I wouldn’t know
if you’d been lying?”

“Of course you’d know,” he shouted back, striding back to
her, “because I’m a damned poor liar and I’d never do that to you.”

She punched him in the arm. “Aye, and you knew I’d cut your
bloody bollocks off if you ever did, and with a dull knife.”

He grinned. He couldn’t help himself. “You would, yes,” he
agreed.

“Don’t laugh,” she said, punching him again. “I’m still
angry—you didn’t trust me.”

Sighing, he pulled her into his arms and laid his head on
hers. “You’re right. I didn’t, and I should have,” he said. “It’s just that you
have this whole other piece of your life that I haven’t been part of.”

She pushed gently against his chest. “Stop it. I’m not ready
to make up,” she said. “I’m still mad at you.”

Keeping his arms firmly around her, he smiled. “
Aye,
and you should be,” he said.

Giving up, she laid her head against his chest and nodded.
“I want you to be part of it,” she said, her voice softer. “I want us to be a
team. As I was studying the Book of Kells, all I could think about was what you
would think when I finally showed you what I’d discovered.”

He stepped back, bent down and placed a soft kiss on her
lips. “Forgive me, Gillian, darling,” he said sincerely. “I’ve been naught but
an oafish, stupid
Scot.
 
I’d like to know what you’ve discovered.”

She smiled up at him and nodded. “And wait ‘til you see what
I’ve found, Ian Michael MacDougal. I’m going to knock your socks off.”