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

watchful eye on Jamal. In Jesus name. Amen.”
    “Amen,” he repeated and gently squeezed her hand before
letting it go. Even if something happened to him, even if he died, now that he
was a member, the gang would look out for his grandmother.   He could be grateful for that.
    With trembling hands, she carefully spooned the macaroni and
cheese onto his plate while he took a piece of bread from the plastic bag and
spread margarine across it.
    After helping herself to some food, she paused, her fork in
mid-air, and looked at him. “You need to stay in tonight,” she said.
    “ Ain’t nothing gonna happen
tonight,” he said.
    “I just got a whisper,” she said. “And you know my whispers,
they ain’t never wrong.”
    His stomach twisted into a knot and he struggled for a
moment to keep his voice calm. She spoke the truth. Her whispers had never been
wrong.   Her whispers had warned her the
night her daughter, Jamal’s mother, had been killed.   Her whispers had kept them safe all these
years in the projects. He didn’t know how she did it or who she was connected
to, but he couldn’t deny the power of her whispers.
    “I’ll stay in Grandma,” he said. “I’ll just go in my room
and do my homework.”
    She smiled and nodded. “You’re a good boy, Jamal,” she said.
    I sure hope your
whispers are wrong tonight , he thought, ‘ cause I don’t have a choice this time.

Chapter Two

 
    At 8:40, Jamal opened his bedroom window, leaned out and
looked around.   The street light behind
the apartment shone on the collection of garbage containers and refuse
scattered on the ground below. He studied the fire escape that hung outside the
living room window.   It was about three
feet away from him, and if he used the ledge just below his window, he could
climb over to it.   Problem was , would Grandma see him climbing down?   If that old fire escape made a lot of noise,
she would go to the window for sure.   He
pulled himself back in and walked over to his closet.   Sliding open the wood laminate door, he bent
over, picked up his baseball bat and went back to the window.
    Leaning out as far as he could, he pushed the top of the bat
against the ironwork of the fire escape. Nothing happened. He tried it again,
this time pushing the bat with all his might. The escape jiggled and screeched
against the motion.   He pulled himself
back inside just as the living room window slid open and his grandmother poked
her head out. “Who’s out there?” she called, her voice
shrill in the night air.
    Sighing, he quietly slid his window closed and bolted it
securely. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he wondered how he was going to slip
out of the house without her knowledge. He looked at the red digital numbers on
his alarm clock.   8:45. Even if he ran he was going to be late.   With a sigh, he pulled the gun out from
beneath his mattress, stuck it back into his waistband and pulled his shirt
over the bump. Grabbing his jacket, he held it behind his back and went to his
bedroom door.
    Clasping his doorknob, he slowly twisted it, noiselessly
sliding the latch from the faceplate, and then peered around the door to the
living room.   Had she gone into her
bedroom? Could he sneak out without her seeing?
    The answer to both questions was no. His grandmother was in
her favorite chair watching a program on the Christian channel and slowly
nodding off.   But as soon as he stepped
into the living room, she’d know.
    “Hey, Grandma,” he called to her. “I’m pretty tired. I think
I’m going to call it a night.”
    She turned from the television to him, and grasping both
arms of her chair, she pushed herself into a standing position.   “You going to bed already?” she asked, worry
creasing her already wrinkled brow. “You sick or something?”
    He shook his head quickly. “No,” he said. “I have a big test
tomorrow, and I thought I’d get up early and study for it.”
    “That’s a good idea,” she agreed,