How had they kept this place a secret for so long?
She should tell someone. Dante, maybe. Mercy? Gideon for sure. In the next instant she knew she wouldn’t tell anyone. No one here was a threat to the Raintree clan. These people wanted to live in peace, and she could appreciate that in a way few could. The threat to her parents finally made sense, in a way. Anyone who wanted to be left alone was now a suspect. She was Raintree. Someone, possibly several someones, was afraid she’d bring trouble to their quiet little town.
As she turned toward the pub she experienced a flash of warning, a hint of darkness. Cloughban was not a dark place, but something evil lived here. Her protective shields went up instantly to keep that darkness from touching her. The empathy was new, and when she opened herself she was much too vulnerable. When she reached out again, she did so cautiously.
And got nothing. Whatever evil she’d sensed was gone. No, not gone. That evil hid from her. Whoever possessed that darkness realized she’d touched it, however briefly.
This charming village was a lot weirder than she’d first thought. Weird, but not dangerous. Wherever a number of people gathered, there was some sort of darkness. She’d sensed much more light around her than dark. Besides, Duncan wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt her.
She stopped, glancing back toward the pub. Where had that thought come from? She had no illusions about Ryder Duncan. He might like her well enough, he might kiss like an angel, he might even call her love on occasion—an endearment which was no different from a casual honey or dear or hey, you. He was not her protector.
Echo shook her head and continued on. She needed some soap and deodorant, and maybe a chocolate bar. She could learn to seriously love Irish chocolate. The pharmacy was small but well stocked. It had become a regular stop for Echo on her walks into town. With a shopping basket in hand she took her time walking up and down the aisles. She wasn’t alone. Two other women carried their own small baskets, and filled them with necessities and luxuries. Like the chocolate. These women did not scorn her the way Brigid had. They even nodded and said hello.
Soon she had everything she needed in her basket. As she approached the counter to pay, her stomach roiled and her vision dimmed. Colors, bright almost to the point of being blinding, danced behind her eyes. The sensation didn’t last long, but it was unpleasant. She felt as if a powerful wave of something she could not identify had washed over and through her.
Echo reached for a sturdy shelf and steadied herself as the colors went away and her vision returned. She closed her eyes, hoping for the last bit of nausea to pass. It did, and she felt fine again. Completely normal.
She shook her head and continued on. Well, that was strange! She hoped she hadn’t eaten something bad. The odd distress had passed quickly and by the time she stood at the counter with euros in hand, all was well. Nevan walked into the pharmacy. He smiled widely and nodded. If he’d been wearing a hat he surely would’ve tipped it in her direction.
When Echo walked back onto the square, she shaded her eyes for a moment and smiled widely at the scene before her. What a perfect little town, what an enchanted place. She dropped her hand and headed for the pub with a purposeful walk. Then something struck her.
Hadn’t she sensed something bad here not so long ago? Something wrong? Something...dark?
Ridiculous. Cloughban was an ordinary place, the people were ordinary people, and as much as she liked it here, she could not stay much longer.
I’ve been here long enough. The thought wafted through her head almost as if it wasn’t her own but was a whisper from elsewhere. What a boring town, time to get back home.
“Ha,” she said as she walked into the pub a full fifteen minutes before her appointed time. “I’m early.”
Duncan stood behind the bar. It was amazing how much she liked to look at him, how pleasant it was to simply stare and admire. There was much to admire. Had she just been thinking about leaving Cloughban? No. Not yet. The thoughts of leaving town flew out of her mind as quickly as they had entered.
“Second time this week,” he said. “Are you ill?”
Echo remembered the bout of nausea in the pharmacy, then dismissed it. “No, I’m fine.” More than fine, really. As she looked at Duncan one thought was foremost in her mind. When are you going to kiss me again?
* * *
When are you going to kiss me again?
The answer to that unasked question should be never. But damn, there was something irresistible about Echo Raintree. Rye was no longer certain he could finish what he’d begun without throwing her across the nearest table and...
Her expression changed; she took a step back. She even uttered a low, “Whoa. Too fast.”
Rye instantly threw up a mental wall; dammit, he had to keep the woman out of his brain! She blinked, shook her head, and he realized that the image they’d shared had happened so quickly, so unexpectedly, that she actually believed the thought was her own.
Instead of being horrified, she actually gave in to a small, secret smile that spoke volumes. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. The only difference was, she had no idea how dangerous a deepening connection between them might be. For her.
As powerful as she was—and lack of control aside, she was quite powerful—she could be more. The weather power that revealed her mood, her ability to see into his mind, her clear empathic abilities. If he didn’t know better he’d think she was like him. A sponge. A receptor.
A dangerous creature.
The two of them together could rule the world. Or burn it down around them.
“Echo...” Should he send her away or embrace her? Teach or shun? Pull her to him or make sure there were always thousands of miles between them?
Doyle burst through the front door, startling Rye, and Echo, too. Echo glanced at her coworker, obviously annoyed to be interrupted. Annoyed and relieved.
“I hear the town council called a meeting for tonight,” Doyle said as he slipped off his coat.
Rye gave his full attention to the cook. It was probably a good thing they’d been interrupted, and still...he was hardly grateful for it. “Yes, I was informed earlier.”
“What’s up?” Doyle asked, then he glanced Echo’s way and winked at her.
Rye was being perfectly honest when he said, “I’m not sure.” He should be more curious. The town council rarely called unscheduled meetings.
Doyle laughed as he headed for the kitchen. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“I suppose I should, but I don’t.” He could guess, though. There was a Raintree in town, and she appeared to be settling in.
“You’re a poor excuse for a mayor,” Doyle teased as he disappeared through swinging doors that separated the main room from the kitchen.
Echo blinked. She withdrew from him, more than a little. “Mayor?”
Chapter 9
Duncan sat across the table from her, looking grumpy. He was more than a little annoyed that she hadn’t learned to bring on a vision of the future at will.
“I can’t force it, Mayor Duncan.” And she wouldn’t want to. The goal—her purpose in coming here—was fewer episodes, not more. She didn’t want to learn how to bring them on; she just wanted to control the ones that were going to come whether she liked it or not.
“Let’s get out of here.” Duncan stood, grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. He didn’t head for the front entrance, but to the rear door. It opened onto a perfectly ordinary alleyway, she knew. Now and then he made her take out the trash. Around the corner there sat a small, rusty-red car that had seen better days. If Duncan ever left town, maybe that was the car he drove. Did he ever leave town? Shoot, did he ever leave the pub?
Apparently so. He walked around the car, then turned down a narrow street. He continued to hold her hand.
The air was not
as cool as it had been earlier that morning. It was perfect. Cool but not cold, sun shining, an occasional gentle breeze. They passed a man working in his garden. Nevan, she saw as he lifted his head and then his hand. When she’d first seen him she’d thought him the ugliest man she’d ever seen, but now...not so much. He was a lovely man, not pretty or handsome in any way, but kind and funny. She waved back. So did Duncan.
He still did not release her hand.
The village was so small, once they’d walked beyond two rows of houses they were, for all intents and purposes, out of town. She had walked this route before, on that afternoon she’d found castle ruins and a fairy fort.
Duncan didn’t lead her in the exact same direction she’d taken that day. Instead, he walked a bit more to the west, though he didn’t go far before stopping and sitting on a gentle green knoll. She sat beside him, and instantly realized why he’d chosen this spot.
The view was like one from a picture postcard. This was the Ireland so many tourists longed to see, but rarely did. The grass was a brilliant green, the sky clear and bright. In the distance a sprinkling of thatched-roof cottages sat. There was no rhyme or reason to the way they were organized, not that she could tell.
She’d come here looking for help, and she’d found it. What she had not come here looking for, what she had not expected, were these intense moments of what could only be called peace. Peace at a bone-deep level. Complete, soul-brightening peace. The sensation never lasted long, but...it was enough. That sensation of peace was like a tonic, like finding beauty where you least expected it and being gently overwhelmed.
Echo now realized that she had never known true peace before coming to Cloughban.
Duncan finally released her hand. Reluctantly, it seemed. Maybe that sensed reluctance was wishful thinking on her part. Maybe he’d only taken her hand to make sure she followed obediently.
It hadn’t taken him long to realize that obedience had never been her strong suit, she knew that much.
She looked at him, studied his profile for a moment and then she asked, “What do you want?”
* * *
He didn’t dare to answer her question honestly. I want you in my bed. I want you gone. I want my life not to be turned upside down by a woman I cannot ever have.
For years he’d been perfectly happy to live single and alone. He had his pub, he had his daughter. It was foolish—and impossible—for him to want anything or anyone else.
“I needed to get out of the pub for a bit,” he said simply. “It’s a nice day. We might as well enjoy it.”
Echo relaxed visibly, her shoulders easing. She smiled. “I had begun to think you never left the pub.” She pointed to a cottage in the distance. “Is one of these houses yours, or do you live above the business?”
No matter how much he liked her, he couldn’t let her in. Couldn’t trust her, couldn’t invite her to be a part of his life. Not even a small one.
“Where do you live?” he asked. “When you’re not traveling the world in search of wizards, where do you lay your head?”
She looked at him, obviously realizing he’d changed the subject. Bless her, she let it slide. “All over. I lay my head in a small apartment in Wilmington, North Carolina. In a big house on Raintree Sanctuary land. In the guest room in Gideon’s house on the beach. With friends, when I need it.”
“Which one of those felt most like home to you?” He wanted to be able to picture her somewhere specific after she left. Why? He could not say. Echo on the beach, in the mountains, in a small room in a crowded building...
She turned her head, looked away, and he knew what her answer would be. Did everyone read her so well, or only him?
“None,” she whispered. “I guess that’s what I’ve been searching for all this time. A place that truly feels like home.” She shook off the mood and looked to him. “Is the pub truly home for you?”
“Cloughban is home,” he said, attempting to be honest with her without saying too much.
“It’s good, to know where you belong.” She bit her bottom lip, continued to look away from him. Did she think he’d see too much in those green eyes? “Do you believe my problems will be easier to solve when I find my place in the world? Or do I have to find this control you insist I need before I can discover home?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t know how.
* * *
Echo was beyond annoyed. Every resident of Cloughban above the age of fifteen was packed into the Drunken Stone, but she wasn’t welcome.
She’d enjoyed her afternoon walk with Duncan. It had been easy, relaxing. Afterward they’d returned to the pub. She felt as if something had happened between them, but she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly. He hadn’t kissed her again, and he hadn’t held her hand on their walk back to the pub. Right before they reached the pub’s rear entrance he’d told her—rather abruptly, she thought—that he’d see her tomorrow. Normally she’d be thrilled with an unexpected night to herself, but this time, today, she didn’t want the night off. She wanted to know what the residents of Cloughban talked about at a town meeting.
Why did she think it might be her?
She had the house to herself. Her landlady and the only other resident were both down the street at the meeting. It was not her imagination that Maisy had smirked at Echo as she’d walked out the door. As a nonresident, she was not welcome at their town meeting. What the hell could they have to hide? What sort of politics might go on here that would require secrecy? Was banning an observer from their town meeting even legal?
Echo, whose entire life could be classified as weird, decided Cloughban had to be the weirdest place on earth. Almost impossible to find, no cell service, no Wi-Fi, Children of the Corn...though come to think of it, the kids she’d actually seen around town seemed pretty normal. Some of their parents, not so much.
She hadn’t seen Cassidy since that day she’d run across the tumbled stones of what had once been a castle. And a fairy fort. To be honest she only rarely thought about the child, as if their two meetings had been no more than a dream. Their first meeting had been the day Duncan had changed his mind about taking her on as a student. Echo had been desperate, panicked, had suffered a horrible vision. It had been such a long day and such a strange encounter, she could almost believe the child was a figment of her imagination. Or maybe a ghost like the ones Gideon saw. She’d seemed so real at the time.
When they’d met at the castle...her mind had been drifting. She’d been vulnerable.
If she had dormant empathic powers and maybe even a way to affect the weather with her moods, could there be another unexplained ability? Like manifesting a dream out of thin air? Dammit, she’d come here looking for less magic in her life, not more!
Having the house to herself should’ve led to going to bed early, or watching TV, or raiding the kitchen. Instead of indulging in any of those things, Echo found herself nervously rummaging around the parlor, scanning the bookshelves for something to read.
While there were a few fairly new—as in less than twenty years old—mysteries on the shelf, most of the books were ancient. Leather bound and clothbound, spines cracked and fading, pages yellowing but surprisingly sturdy. Echo removed a couple of history books, leafed through carefully, then returned the books to their proper places. As she leafed through she noted dates and names that meant nothing to her, political references and legal opinions. Yawn. Nothing caught her fancy.
Until she deciphered a faded, almost-illegible title on the spine of an old, thin book. The History of Cloughban. She squinted at the author’s name. Alsaindar Duncan.
That answered, in part, her question about why Duncan—her Duncan—lived here. It was home. His ancestors came from Cloughban. There was a blood connection. Roots.
She very carefully removed the book from the shelf. It was heavier than she’d expe
cted. With easy fingers, she opened the book to the title page.
The History of Cloughban by Alsaindar Duncan. Beneath the title was a drawing of a big, standing rock, a stone that pointed toward the sky. She touched the page, readied to turn it wondering what she’d find. For some reason this book excited her. Her mouth went dry, her stomach flipped and her heart rate increased. Silly of her to react this way. It was just a book. She started to flip that first page...
The door flew open and a child—perhaps twelve years old or so—came rushing into the room. His reddish brown hair was shaggy and mussed, and his face was flushed. He’d been running. Slick as could be, he reached up and snagged the book from her hand.
“You’ll not be needing this now, miss,” he said breathlessly.
And then he was gone, the front door slamming behind him.
What the...?
She felt a bit ill, as if she’d eaten something bad, but she recognized the sensation as...wrong. Unnatural. Magical. She could see the book in her head, could see that title page. And then it started to fade away and she knew that in a moment the memory would be gone.
Her heart pounded with a new and disturbing realization. This had happened before. Recently. In the town square. No, in the pharmacy. Someone was messing with her memories. Or at least they were trying to.
Control. Duncan had done his best to teach her to harness that control. She did so now. Echo closed her eyes and concentrated, as he had taught her. All this time she’d thought the lessons had been wasted, that she was getting no stronger, but as she reached for control she realized that was not true.
She would not forget the book or the boy. She pictured them both as if they were still in the room; she fought to hold on to what had just happened. Her knees wobbled and her mind spun with the effort it took to keep that memory...and then the threat was gone, and the memory remained hers.
Raintree: Oracle Page 9
