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

by Terri Reid

  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.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “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.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Are we all together then?” Father Jack asked when Gillian and Ian came back into the room holding hands.

  Ian nodded. “Yes, Father, I’m ready to hear some more.”

  The priest sat back and took a deep breath. “Well, now that you have a background on the Tuatha da Danaan, let me tell you that the plan to keep the Sidhe underground did not work as well as the Milesians thought it would. They were not only magical, but also clever, and so they kept up with their mischief making. Not really going to war, but causing enough trouble to keep their captors in a state of constant worry. The original residents of the island still revered the Sidhe. They’d leave them gifts and share their stories with their children, not only to show reverence but also to warn their children away from the dangers of interacting with the Sidhe.”

  “Dangers?” Sean asked.

  “Well, the Sidhe lived by the rules spelled out in the truce, but they also knew every loophole,” he explained. “For example, the truce forbade the Tuatha da Danaan to capture the inhabitants of Ireland and bring them below ground. However, if a mortal happened to be invited or persuaded into the depths of Tír na nÓg and there partook of a bite of food or a drink of wine, they would be guests, not prisoners. And so they would remain within the depths for the remainder of their lives.”

  “Wait, I’ve heard fables about not drinking or eating anything a faerie offers you,” Ian said. “Or you will stay in faery forever.”

  The priest nodded. “And so it is with most fables or legends. There is a truth behind them.”

  “But I thought these beings, the Sidhe, cared for the inhabitants of Ireland,” Sean said. “Why would they capture them?”

  “Well, it’s our opinion that they cared for the people as long as there was a symbiotic relationship,” he said. “The Sidhe needed three things to remain strong. The first was a group of people to worship them and remember them.”

  “Ah, like the old gods of Asgard who knew they would cease to exist once the people of earth forgot about them,” Ian said.

  “Exactly,” the father replied with a nod in Ian’s direction. “And the second was to provide a fresh gene pool for the Sidhe’s thinning blood line. They may be immortal beings, but they needed strong, fresh partners in order to produce healthy offspring.”

  Em snorted, and when Sean glanced at her, she quickly turned away.

  “They also needed human emotion,” the priest continued.

  “Excuse me?” Sean asked, turning back.

  “Somehow they receive energy from human emotion,” he said. “They feed off our feelings, and the more powerful the feeling, the more energy it gives them. And whether the emotion was terror or pleasure, they didn’t care, as long as it was intense. Powerful emotion like that either involved sex or torture, which is why the inhabitants would warn their children away from places the Sidhe were known to visit.”

  “My grandmother in Ireland used to share stories like these with us when we’d visit,” Sean said and then he looked over his shoulder once again. “And she warned us to stay out of the woods.”

  Smiling at him, Em moved a little closer. “I’ve never admitted it before, but this is a day of truth-telling,” she said to him. “Had you not entered the woods and distracted the beast, I would have been killed. You saved my life, Sean O’Reilly.”

  The little boy that dwelt inside of him wanted to fist-pump and yell, ‘I knew it!’ But years of working as a cop and years of relying on a partner overcame the youth, and he nodded. “And you saved mine,” he said. “So we’re even, I suppose.”

  Grinning, she shook her head. “Well, no, as I recall I saved your life twice,” she said, her mouth splitting into a wider smile. “So, really, you still owe me a boon.”

  He saw the twinkle in her eye before he reacted to the taunt and he nodded. “Well, let’s see what I can do about that,” he finally replied. “Now, Father, let’s fast forward a little here because I need to get to Cook County Hospital. What’s the bottom line?”

  Father Jack looked over at Gillian and nodded. “Gillian, why don’t you explain what you’ve learned in the past six months,” he said. “That will make the tale go faster.”

  He turned to Sean. “I’m an Irishman,” he said, a note of apology in his voice. “And I can’t seem to keep a story short for the life of me.”

  Gillian sat on the arm of the chair that Ian occupied. She first glanced down at her fiancé and then at Sean. “As you know,” she started. “I was researching the Book of Kells, which was supposedly created in about 6 a.d., and I noticed some discrepancies with the pages. The creators were supposed to be scholars, monks who spent all their time creating the illuminations that graced the pages of the books. But there were inconsistencies that I’d never seen in other ancient texts. There were pages that were duplicates of each other. There were sentences with large spaces in them. There were misspellings. It was all quite odd.”

  She took a deep breath, pressed her lips together for a moment and then began again. “And then I started to concentrate on what most would consider the mistakes,” she said. “I began looking closer at the inconsistencies, and I found the Book of Kells actually seemed to have an older book beneath it, a subtext. The drawings and the words were covering or, perhaps more accurately, hiding the older text and drawings.”

  “Hiding?” Ian asked. “Hiding what?”

  “An ancient agreement between the Tuatha da Danaan and the earliest representatives of the church,” she said. “An agreement that allowed the Tuatha da Danaan aristocracy, otherwise known as the Seelie Court, full rights above the ground if they agreed to seal the others, the Unseelie Court, below.”

  “Why would the church want an agreement like that?” Sean asked.

  “Because the aristocracy actually had something to share,” Gillia
n explained. “They were the ones who were gifted in medicine and the sciences. They were the architects and the astrologers. And, most importantly, they weren’t the soldiers or the creatures of the fae, and they had the power to seal the others up in Tír na nÓg.”

  “So, what was in the original document?” Ian asked.

  “It was the agreement, and it was also a map of Tír na nÓg and the portals between this world and the other,” she explained. “If you study the Book of Kells, you can see familiar land masses hidden in the pages. These portals are all over the world, placed there before civilization came and built great cities around them.”

  “So, there are portals in Chicago?” Sean asked.

  “That’s why we’re here,” Father Jack inserted. “Members of our Order have been strategically located throughout the world to guard the portals and to immediately report if there has been a breach in the opening.”

  “Your Order?” Ian asked.

  “The original agreement between the Tuatha da Danaan and the church was called Brigid’s Cross,” Gillian said. “Saint Brigid was one of the first patron saints of Ireland. Some claim she was a great abbess who did wonderful things for the people of Ireland; although there is also some documentation that she was one of the ruling class of the Tuatha da Danaan, a queen.”

  “So, soon after the original document was signed, a holy Order was created to ensure the pact was obeyed, by both sides,” the priest said. “It was called The Order of Brigid’s Cross and has been in existence since the early days of the church in Ireland.”

  “But why cover up the agreement?” Ian asked. “Why not just hide it away?”

  “They tried hiding it away,” Gillian said. “It was hidden on a small island in the Inner Hebrides called Iona. But when the monks fled the Viking raids in the eighth century, they had to take it with them. Instead of allowing this agreement to be discovered, which would be a huge setback to a church that had spent centuries trying to quash the belief in faery;, they decided to cover it up.”