The Order of Brigid's Cross - The Wild Hunt (Book 1): The Wild Hunt Read Online Free PDF

she
wants to know what their faces were like.”
    “Faces,” Sean said, scanning his notes. “Oh, yeah, the head
guy has a helmet like a reindeer skull.”
    Sean could hear Ian typing in the background, pausing and
typing again.
      “She says it sounds
like the Elk King,” Ian said.
    “The Elf King?” Sean spat. “Listen,
I know I said reindeer, but this guy has nothing to do with Santa Claus.”
    Ian chuckled softly. “No, she said the Elk King,” Ian said.
“With a ‘K.’ She says he is the leader of the Wild
Hunt.”
    “The Wild Hunt?” Sean asked slowly,
a frisson of trepidation running up his spine.
    “Aye, it’s the fae version of a fox hunt,” Ian said, “except
the hunters tend to slay any mortals who happen to be in their path or grab
them up and take them down to Tír na nÓg with them.”
    “Slay as in cut up in pieces?”
    “Let me ask.”
    Once again, Ian paused to type. “She says their main weapons
would be broadswords, so I’ll say yes, that would be right,” Ian replied
slowly. “She wants to know why you’re asking about this, Sean, and quite
frankly, so do I .”
    “Well, as near as I can see,” Sean said, “the South Side of
Chicago either had a visit from the Wild Hunt last night or something doing a
really good job at imitation.”
    “What?” Ian asked, incredulous. “But that’s impossible.”
    “When can you be here?” Sean asked.
    “Mary and Bradley arrived back last night,” he said.
“Gillian and I can pack up and leave in the morning. I can be there before
noon.”  
    Sean nodded slowly. “Thanks. It’s a gruesome scene. You
might not want to bring Gillian,” Sean said.
    “I’ll ask her on the drive down,” Ian replied. “She might
prove more useful than you think.”
    “Okay, I’ll see you then,” he said. “I’m going to get home
and get a little sleep.”
    “Um, Sean,” Ian inserted before Sean could hang up.
    “Yes?”
    “Gillian just messaged me that she wants you to do her a
favor and place something iron across your doorway after you’re in,” he said.
    “Something iron?”
    “Aye, she says she’ll explain tomorrow. Just do it.”
    “Okay, you’re the professor,” Sean agreed and then hung up
the phone. “And you just gave me the creeps.”
    He looked down at his notes, remembering the pleading look
on Jamal’s face when they finished the interview. “You believe me, don’t you?”
the boy had asked.
    Sean nodded. “Yeah, I believe you, and I’m going to go call
a friend of mine who knows more about this kind of stuff,” he had replied. “But
Jamal…”
    “Yes, Detective O’Reilly.”
    “Maybe for right now, you shouldn’t answer anyone else’s
questions,” Sean had advised. “Just pretend the drugs they gave you kicked in
and you’re too sleepy. Okay?”
    The young man nodded and smiled. ‘Yeah, okay, I can do
that.”
    “Good, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he had promised and hurried
to his car to call Ian.
    Closing his notebook, Sean put his car into gear, pulled out
of the parking spot and headed across town to his apartment near the lake.   The streets were nearly deserted and the few vehicles
he passed were either Chicago Sanitation trucks or large, rumbling Chicago Transit
Authority buses.   He flicked on his turn
signal and was waiting at the light for the chance to hop onto the expressway
when he remembered another obligation.
    “Damn, I nearly forgot,” he muttered, looking over his
shoulder to make sure no one was behind him and then inching over into the
through lane before the light changed.   Instead of Interstate 90, Sean drove up Harrison Street and turned left
into the tunnel that was known as lower Wacker Drive.
    Built in the 1920s, the lower level of Wacker Drive had been
created to accommodate the delivery trucks using the below-level street to
access buildings that stood alongside the Chicago River. The thick concrete
pylons had to be strong enough to withstand the heavy downtown traffic