by Terri Reid
Sighing, he bent down and set a fire to a small pile of firewood she kept contained in an old grill base. “Can you at least let me leave some matches for you?” he asked. “So you can light your fire yourself?”
Shaking her head, she smiled at him. “I can’t touch fire,” she explained once again. “It’s against the rules. But I do so love to be warm. Thank you kindly, Sean O’Reilly.”
Standing, he smiled at her and bowed his head in a courtly manner. “Thank you for allowing me to be of service, Hettie.”
“You are a good man,” she said. “And when you have need of me, you’ve only to call.”
“Thank you,” he replied politely. “I will remember that. See you tomorrow, Hettie.”
“Have a good morrow,” she said and then she looked beyond him towards the river and the night sky. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, her voice deepened, and she spoke softly, “And beware, Sean O’Reilly, there is a dark cast in the sky. Things are changing.”
Chapter Six
She’d only screamed once, but somehow that scream created an internal compass in twelve-year-old Sean O’Reilly and he ran steadily, instinctively knowing he was going in the right direction. Not once did he consider turning and running the other way, to get help from someone older and, perhaps, stronger. He knew if he did not help, she would not survive.
The woods were his enemy in his quest. Leaves and branches slapped against his face and arms as he pushed through the dense brush. And when the vegetation did not seem to hold him back, the roots of the trees and the rocks on the ground caught at him, trying to trip him up at every turn. But his young legs were both steady and agile and he ran ahead, avoiding their snares.
The day had started warm, and now sweat trickled down his forehead and bloomed on the front and back of his t-shirt. He wiped his forearm across his face, slick from heat and humidity, and continued on.
Slowing as he neared his destination, he realized he needed to have the element of surprise on his side. Placing his feet carefully one in front of the other, heel first and then slowly lowering the ball of his foot before lifting off again, imitating an Native American he’d seen hunting in a movie, he glided forward to the edge of the grove. He could hear movement, but the foliage in front of him blocked his vision. Reaching forward, he grabbed hold of the curtain of leaves and pushed them aside.
It must be a bear, he immediately thought, as he stared at the back of the huge beast. The hide was shiny in spots, like the fur had worn away, but in other areas tufts of brown, black and silver hair grew thick and long like a lion’s mane. It was standing upright, and the thick muscles in its back confirmed its power.
It was only when he had moved past the shelter of the trees and stepped into the clearing that he saw her. She was probably his age, only her build was far more slender and she was taller, several inches taller, than he. Some of her long, red hair, which fell down to her waist, was caught in the branches of a low-hanging tree, and as she twisted and turned, trying to escape, the beast came closer. Sean realized that he only had a moment to act. A moment until the hunter found its prey.
Desperately looking around for a weapon, he finally knelt and picked up a large stone. He could throw it at the beast’s head, frightening it away. But he had to throw it at the right angle. Stepping forward quickly, thinking only of the girl and his need to help, his foot came down on a small twig. “SNAP!”
It shouldn’t have sounded so loud. It shouldn’t have echoed through the forest. It shouldn’t have turned all of the attention towards him. But it did.
The beast turned slowly, and the blood in Sean’s veins ran cold. He had never seen anything like it. It was a creature that hid in the darkest corners of your nightmares. Its head had the girth of a bull, but a boar-like snout glistened in the middle of it with sharp, sabre teeth protruding from either side of the snout. Its yellow, reptilian eyes zeroed in on Sean, and the boy felt his heart skip a beat. This was no time for cowards, he decided with a shaky breath. Summoning all his strength, Sean whipped the stone through the air, aiming for its eyes.
The stone sailed through the air, and Sean watched it hurtle towards its destination. Time seemed to slow as the rock came closer to the face of the beast. He nearly shouted with relief when the stone proved his aim to be true, but rather than incapacitate the beast, it merely harmlessly bounced off the thick hide and plopped down into the thick, mossy ground. The creature chuckled and stepped towards Sean.
Panicked, he looked around wildly and saw the large tree limb on the ground. He dove, but the creature, surprisingly agile on its feet, did the same. Sean grabbed hold of the limb at the same time the creature, with its talon-like fingernails grabbed hold of Sean’s arm.
Sean screamed as he felt his flesh being scraped away from the bone. Twisting with his other arm, he swung the branch against the creature’s head. Over and over he pounded away as the beast shook him hard enough to make his teeth rattle. But he wasn’t going to give up. For a moment Sean thought he might win. The limb was large enough to knock the creature’s head to the side with each new blow. Sean felt a strange surge of endorphins, and he gritted his teeth, putting all of his power into the strike.
This time, the creature lost its footing and stumbled sideways. Sean cried with triumph and was ready to strike again when he felt a pinch on his arm. He turned and watched in horror as one of the creature’s talons opened and a narrow, translucent, bone-like needle buried itself into his arm. He struggled to pull it away, but the hold was too great. Striking blindly with the tree limb, he watched the creature’s bone darken as black liquid ran through its hollow core and flowed into his arm.
“No!” he screamed and tried once again to pull away, but the instant the poison was in his system, he could feel the numbing begin.
“Help,” he whispered weakly, as the forest began to blur before his eyes.
He twisted away once again, and this time, the creature opened his grip and released him. He fell backwards, his limbs too heavy to respond. Everything seemed to be once again moving in slow motion. As he fell, he could see past the creature to the tree that had held the red-haired girl captive. Now, only a few strands of her hair hung on the branches where she had been. Good! He thought with a little satisfaction. At least she got away.
He hit the ground with a thump, leaves and small twigs spewing up around him, and lay at the feet of the beast like a sacrificial offering. Looking up, through his blurred vision, he could see long streams of frothy saliva streaming past the beast’s canine teeth and down its throat. It growled in appreciation, and a long black tongue darted from its mouth and wiped the foam away.
Damn, I’m dinner, Sean realized, and immediately felt bad for saying a word his mother would raise her eyebrows over.
Then he thought better of it. I’m going to die. I can say damn all I want to. Damn. Damn. Damn. Damn.
The beast cocked his head and looked down at Sean. It lifted one arm up and stretched its fingers, the razor-sharp claws making a clicking sound as they snapped into place like a multi-tined sickle. Then its reptilian eyes met Sean’s. The look was cold, cruel and triumphant, and Sean knew this would be the death blow. He braced himself but didn’t close his eyes. There was no way he was going to face death with his eyes closed. He took a deep breath.
The glint of sun on metal blinded him for a moment, and he panicked, not able to see the creature. He heard a swish of movement against air and braced himself for the impact. After a moment, when the glare was gone, he realized the creature’s arm was still posed for the kill, but it wasn’t moving.
His gaze traveled from the arm to the head. It seemed to be moving, but not with the rest of the body. More like a bobble-head on the top of a toy body. Then suddenly, he realized the head was no longer attached to the rest of the body, but falling towards him. He braced himself once more, this time for the weight of the head crushing him. But as it fell, the head, along with the rest of the body, disintegrated, becoming nothing more tha
n miniscule specks of ash in the air.
“It doesn’t look like much once you’ve wacked its head off,” the girl said, wiping green ooze from the blade of her broadsword with a rag.
“What?” Sean murmured, finding it hard to comprehend that he was not going to die.
“Heldeofol,” she replied. “Nasty creature. Poisonous. I’ve never seen anyone daft enough to take it on with just a stick.”
Even in his nearly unconscious state, Sean didn’t like her attitude. “Saved you,” he gasped.
“Oh, aye, you helped,” she replied casually. “But don’t be looking to get a medal for it. I’d have been out of the fix on my own in a moment or two. You really had no reason to bother yourself.”
Sean glared at her.
“Well, no need to get nasty,” she said, kneeling down next to him.
She lifted his arm and tore his shirt away to expose his wounded arm. “Ah, he got you right good,” she whispered sympathetically. “It’s a scar you’ll wear for the rest of your days if I’m not mistaking.”
Glancing down, even in his woozy state, he could see his arm did not look good. The wound was red and puckered, and blood was oozing around the edges. Small veins of black poison crisscrossed underneath his skin and traveled up his arm, nearly to his shoulder. She ripped a piece of his shirt, formed a tourniquet and tied it high on his arm.
“We can’t have the poison get to your heart,” she explained. “Then you’d be a goner for sure.”
Pulling a few leaves from a nearby tree, she put them in her mouth and chewed on them a little before pulling them out and placing them on the wound. Sean scrunched up his nose in disgust and she laughed. “Aye, I know, ‘tis disgusting, but it’s the only way to release the healing properties.”
She sat back on her heels and looked at him. “Your wound is deep and poison is traveling quickly. There is a way I can help you, but you must know we will be bound because of it. Do you agree?”
Sean could barely hear her through the pain of his wounds and the lethargy caused by the poison.
Nodding, he took a deep shuddering breath and watched in detached interest as she withdrew a small silver knife from a sheath at her waist. She lifted his hand and drew her blade across the mound of flesh below his thumb and then repeated the same process on her own hand. She placed the knife back in the sheath and placed their hands together, her hand on top so the blood flowed from her body into his.
“Bound,” she whispered.
“Bound, bound, bound.”
Meow. Meow. Meow.
Sean drifted from his dream to near wakefulness, feeling as though his breathing passages were being crushed; the weight on his chest and neck were almost unbearable. He managed to pry open his eyes and saw the beast upon him. Staring down at him with gleaming emerald eyes, the beast opened its mouth, revealing sharp razor-like teeth. For just a moment, Sean thought he was back in Ireland. Back in the forest behind his grandmother’s property. Back to the event his parents had convinced him had just been a run-in with a thorny vine that held hallucinogenic properties. Back to the incident that he had dreamt of ever since.
The beast on his chest cried out in a voice far more diminutive than expected. “Meow.”
“Tiny, get the hell off of me,” Sean growled, lifting the giant marmalade tomcat off his chest, plopping it onto the mattress next to him and rolling onto his stomach, grabbing his pillow to cover his head. “I’m still sleeping.”
Having little to no regard for his human, Tiny, purring with pleasure that he had finally awakened the man, proceeded to knead, his claws out, Sean’s back. “Ouch, dammit Tiny, stop it!” Sean yelled into the mattress.
The cat merely purred louder and increased the kneading until Sean sat up in bed. “Tiny,” Sean yelled, glancing over at the clock. “It’s seven o’clock in the morning. I got in at three. I’ve only had four hours of sleep. Can’t you give me a break?”
The cat lifted up its front paws and threw its body against Sean’s chest in an affectionate rub. “I know it’s time for breakfast,” Sean said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “But, really, you could live on the fat of the land for weeks.”
Ignoring Sean’s hurtful comments, the cat lovingly threw twenty-five pounds of vibrating hair against the man’s chest. Sighing loudly, Sean whipped the covers off his legs and stood up. Clad only in boxers and a t-shirt, he looked at the robe hanging on the back of the bedroom door. “No, if I put my robe on, I’ll stay up,” he muttered. “One can of cat food and I’m back to bed.”
He pulled the door open and strode down the hall into the kitchen, immediately going to the cupboard that held several months’ supply of cat food. His refrigerator and cabinets might be empty of human food, but he always made sure there was plenty for Tiny.
Grabbing a can of wild Alaskan Salmon cat food, he suddenly felt his personal early warning system respond and froze.
“Well, I feel a little overdressed,” a woman’s voice stated.
Sean turned quickly, automatically reaching for a gun that wasn’t there. “You!” he exclaimed.
She nodded her head in acknowledgement, flipping her long, red hair behind her shoulders, and slipped onto a bar stool on the other side of the kitchen counter. She was dressed in workout clothes, black capris and a short sleeved shirt. “How are you doing, Sean?”
He stared at the woman who had been in his dreams since he was twelve. A woman who, until a few months ago, he thought was just an unusual, but incredibly hot, figment of his imagination. The same woman who only weeks ago had saved his life by beheading some kind of creature in the bowels of the Grant Park Underground Parking Lot.
“I don’t remember if I thanked you,” he said.
She shrugged easily. “Doesn’t matter,” she said, the Irish lilt in her voice even more pronounced. “I don’t believe I thanked you when you saved me life so many years ago.”
He leaned back against the stove, glanced down at his boxers and blushed. “I—I apologize for my attire,” he grimaced, dropping the can, rushing over and pulling out a chef’s apron from a drawer. He slipped it on and tied it securely in the back. “Well, I guess this is better than nothing.”
She grinned. “You never know,” she said. “I might have preferred nothing.”
“Yeah, well, not until you at least take me out for dinner,” he tossed back.
Tiny jumped up on the counter and knocked his head against Sean’s hand. “Yeah, just a minute, Tiny,” he said, picking up the can of food again. “You don’t have your sword.”
She smiled again. “I don’t generally take it on social calls,” she replied.
“Is this what this is?” he asked. “A social call?”
She nodded. “Aye,” she said, “and a warning.”
Pulling the top off the can, Sean scooped the contents out of the can into Tiny’s dish, and the cat lumbered across the counter to his breakfast.
“I normally don’t like cats,” she said, running her fingers along Tiny’s back, the cat arching in response. “But this one has charm.”
“Thanks,” Sean replied, but kept his mind on the conversation. “You said something about a warning.”
She stood and walked over to the door, lifting the metal trivet he’d hung on a hook and shook her head. “This is aluminum,” she said, “not iron. It won’t do you any good unless you’re planning on placing a hot pan sideways on your door. You need iron. Solid iron.”
“It looked like iron.”
She looked at him, her green eyes meeting his hazel ones. “As we both know, looks can be deceiving.”
“Can I just ask why I need iron?
“Protection.”
“From what? Vampires and werewolves?”
“No, that would be garlic and silver bullets,” she replied. “Iron is for fae.”
“Who the hell are you?” he asked calmly.
She walked over to him and he was reminded again how tall she was, like a nubile Irish goddess. He was six feet fou
r inches tall and she was nearly his height.
“That’s not my story to tell,” she said. “Not yet.”
“Why should I trust you?” he asked.
She shrugged again. “I didn’t ask for your trust, although you should realize by now that we both fight for the same side.”
She moved to leave, but he reached forward and grabbed her arm, surprised at the relief he felt when her flesh was tangible beneath his hand. “Not so fast,” he said. “How did you get into my apartment? Who sent you? Who are you working for?”
She met his eyes, and he saw a glint of humor in them, and also a glint of challenge.
“Ah, well, that’s for me to know,” she whispered, and then disappeared in front of him.
“And you to find out,” her voice echoed in the room.
Chapter Seven
“I know you’re in here and I’m going to find you,” Sean yelled, ripping through the clothing and pulling it from hangers onto the floor behind him. Finally, all that was facing him was a blank wall. Running his hand through his hair in confusion, he shook his head and muttered, “Well damn. Could it have just been another hallucination?”
Stepping away from his hall closet, he waded through the sports paraphernalia, jackets, shoes and other miscellaneous items that had occupied the space before he had emptied it out. He leaned against the back of the couch and gazed around his apartment. It looked like a small tornado had touched down; closets were emptied, rooms torn apart and furniture upended. Any place that might have hidden an adult had been thoroughly searched. His scrutiny brought him back to the deadbolt on the front door. It was still in place. Still locked from the inside. There was no way she could have…
He ran his hand through his hair again. Nothing in his world made a whole lot of sense anymore. What happened to the good old days when a little good investigatory work told you the good guys from the bad guys? Monsters, demons and Elk Kings were the stuff novels were made of, not something that should be running down the streets of his city.