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

above
and the low concrete ceilings were created to give trucks just enough room to
maneuver in the shadowy recesses of the expensive retail stores and office
buildings.
    Sean wondered what Mary would see if she were down here. She
often got a glimpse of the history of a place.   Would she see mobsters dumping a concrete-booted victim into the depths
of the Chicago River? Prohibition-dodging socialites sneaking
out of vintage limousines with their boot-legged liquor hidden beneath their
coats?   Dock workers unloading the
ships that traveled down the Chicago River?   Or drowning victims from the unfortunate Eastland steamship disaster
where 844 people died just off the docks of lower Wacker drive?
    He shivered as he wondered about the unseen hundreds he
probably shared the tunnel with that night. Of course, he reasoned, the current
view wasn’t much better. The skeleton frames of old boat moorings and docks on
the river side of the road lay deserted, except for the scampering of large
river rats.   The other side of the
four-lane road had been a labyrinth of service docks for stores, restaurants
and office buildings, but now the concrete slabs and sidewalks had become a
community for many of the city’s homeless.   Large appliance boxes, small lean-tos and even
old camping tents created a neighborhood of those who either shunned humanity
or had been tossed away by society because they didn’t fit the mold.   
    He spotted the woman he’d been looking for, alone as usual,
huddled in a small corner where a concrete wall protected her from the worst of
the cold winds.   She stood with her
wooden staff in her old, gnarled hands, watching her surroundings and her
precious grocery cart fervently.   That’s
how he had first met her, fighting off a group of young thugs intent on stealing that cherished cart. Sean pulled his cruiser up to the curb,
grabbed a white paper sack from the seat next to him and exited the car.   “Top of the morning to you, Hettie,” he
called, walking towards her.
    She smiled at him, exposing her nearly toothless gums, and
nodded. “Tis the middle of the night, foolish mortal,” she called back. “Are
you blind?”
    “Oh, but Hettie, me darling, when
I see you, I only see sunshine and summer days,” he replied.
    She snorted rudely, but the smile widened on her wizened
face. “For all your charm, you won’t be getting under me skirts,” she taunted
as he drew nearer.
    Her tiny body was bent and probably broken in a dozen
places.   But she proudly wore a long,
green ball gown that was too large for her thin frame and a thick wool shawl
that Sean had given her that matched the color of the gown.   Her nose and her ears had outgrown the rest
of her facial features, reminding Sean of the picture of a goblin he’d seen as
a child. She held her staff in front of her, partially for protection, he
thought, and partially for support.
    Sean slapped his hand against the middle of his chest.
“Hettie, once again you puncture my heart with your harsh words,” he said,
handing her the bag and smiling at her soft cackle. “Have I no hope?”
    Reaching inside the bag she pulled out the Styrofoam cup
filled with tea laced liberally with cream and honey. She eagerly pulled the
tab up and drank greedily, her thick tongue darting around her dried lips to
gather any stray drops and her small, dark eyes closed in pleasure.     “I
thank ye , Sean,” she whispered, her now opened eyes
moist, “for the lovely things you do for me.”
    Smiling at her, Sean pulled a lighter from his pocket. “I
know your answer, but I have to ask,” he said. “Will you not come with me so I
can find you a safer place to stay?”
    She shook her head, pulled a blueberry scone out of the bag
and brought it to her nose, taking a deep, appreciative sniff.   “I would if I could,” she said. “But I must
stay here, at me post, until I am needed.”
    Sighing, he bent down and set a fire to a small pile of
firewood