She did her very best to dismiss the dream she’d had. It had not been a premonition; it had not been a glimpse into the future. It had just been a normal, ordinary, particularly vivid dream. So, pros and cons in the real world...
She liked Ryder.
He lived in Ireland, which was a very long way from North Carolina.
They were definitely physically compatible.
He was a stray, and while she did not know the extent of his magic, she did understand that the normal life she craved couldn’t possibly happen with him.
He kissed like an angel.
He was bossy and had no tolerance for employees who were, on occasion, late.
The sex was fantastic.
What if he wanted children?
Okay, now she was definitely getting ahead of herself. She blamed the dream. A dream of children in one future and her own headstone—beside Ryder’s—in another. She still wasn’t sure which aspect was more terrifying.
It was a nice day, sunny and warmer than she’d expected when she’d set out. What was she doing thinking about a future with Ryder Duncan? They’d had one very nice night. She’d needed that—the pleasure, the connection, the escape. Maybe that’s all it was, all it would ever be. Physical. Fun. Sex for the sake of sex and nothing else. She really needed to get the thought that they might have a future out of her head before he peeked into it and saw too much. She didn’t want to send him running. Not yet.
She ordered her coffee and a pastry that was about the size of a baby’s head, collected her purchases with a smile and stepped out of the small shop to sit at an outdoor table. There were quite a few people out and about today, walking, shopping, visiting.
A number of the residents of Cloughban knew her. Most of them—maybe all—had been in the pub last night. Some had been in the pub a time or two to hear her sing. On this beautiful day, a few passersby nodded and said hello. Some just glared at her suspiciously as they passed.
She now knew that most of the residents of Cloughban were like her and her family. Special. Gifted. Cursed. She had seen little evidence of their gifts, but then they’d been hiding their true natures from her. They’d been protecting themselves, and this place.
One couple she’d never met before offered a hesitant “Good afternoon.” They both had pronounced German accents. While most of the residents were obviously Irish, it occurred to her that the small town in the back of beyond, a place that should not be a mecca for international tourists given how difficult it had been to find, had a number of foreign residents. Bertrand was obviously French, and Michael’s accent was more British than Irish. There were others, customers at the pub, who were definitely not originally from here.
Why had she never noticed this before?
Because someone instructed you, in an entirely magical way, not to.
The voice in the back of her head spoke the truth, and she knew it. Why? Why would the residents of Cloughban bother to hide so much from her? She was Raintree, magic was an everyday part of her life. She would never judge, or try to take advantage, or point and whisper...
The timing was terrible, but there it was—that tickle at the back of her brain that warned her another vision was coming. She left her unfinished coffee and pastry sitting on the small round table and started walking toward the pub. After a few seconds she began to walk faster, then she jogged. Desperate, hurried, she caught a glimpse of herself in the boutique window, but did not look inside to see if Brigid was watching. It would be best if no one saw her and wondered what had her in such a rush.
If they knew what she was, would they judge? Take advantage? Point and whisper?
At the moment there was only one important question: Did she have time to make it to Ryder before she lost all control?
Her vision began to go gray around the edges. She could see the path ahead of her, and nothing more. She kept her eyes on the side of the building she hoped to—needed to—reach before it was too late. Jogging wasn’t going to get her there soon enough. She began to run. Faster, harder. A month ago, she could not have made it this far; her lessons must be helping, at least a little.
By the time she reached the door to the Drunken Stone her body was more numb than not and she could barely see at all. She remained in control, for now, but barely. The entire world was going gray; there was no sound but the rush of blood through her veins.
She tugged hard, but the door was locked. She knocked, pounded, called Ryder’s name. Come on, Duncan, she thought, trying to send him a message. Wake up. Answer the damn door!
She couldn’t wait any longer, and she didn’t want to collapse here, at the door. Someone might see, someone would see, and she was far too vulnerable while she was in the midst of a vision. Stumbling, she made her way around the corner, behind the far side of the building where she wouldn’t be seen by those walking the square. Completely numb, entirely out of control, she sank to her knees and allowed the vision to take her.
Cold. It was so cold. Within the vision, she stood and looked around her. Front, back, all around. She didn’t recognize where she was. Panic wouldn’t help her now! Deep breath. Control.
She was in a field, Ireland green, she understood, even though in this world, in this time and place, it was night. She stopped, lifted her head and focused on the scene ahead. It continued to form, taking shape as she watched.
There were stones in the near-distance, stones that were tall and gray and powerful. Incredibly powerful. They were not haphazardly arranged, but formed a circle. An almost-perfect circle, she knew even though she saw the stones from the side, not from above. One of them, the largest stone, was the one she’d glimpsed in the pages of a very old book. A book she had not been allowed to read.
In the center of the circle of stones stood a dark figure. As the scene continued to unfold, it remained maddeningly unclear. She couldn’t see a face, just a tall, dark, indistinct shape.
Mists danced and then converged, finally allowing her to see more. That dark form held a knife in one hand and a child in the other.
Cassidy.
Snow began to fall. Fat, white flakes that dropped silently from a cold sky as Echo began to run toward the stone circle. As in a nightmare, she ran as hard as she could but moved no closer. How could she help the child if she couldn’t reach her? Ryder had joined her in a vision once; he’d helped her. Could she help this little girl here and now?
Hair wild, eyes unnaturally wide, Cassidy looked directly at Echo and said, in a whisper that sent a fog of warm breath into the cold air, “Save me.”
For the first time ever, Echo felt herself being pulled out of the vision before she was ready to go. She fought to stay, to see more. To reach Cassidy. Where was she? When? Already she knew she was not too late. This had not happened, was not going to happen immediately. The event was so far out it might not happen at all if she did what needed to be done. How could she know which steps would lead to Cassidy’s safety? What was she supposed to do?
Echo heard a new noise—quickly approaching footsteps—and realized she was no longer alone. She turned her head and there was Ryder, running, running, then screaming. Snow fell so fast and thick now it was like a curtain that threatened to hide the details of this vision from her.
Cassidy screamed, her high-pitched voice cutting through it all. “Da!”
Ryder ran hard, but he could not run fast enough. He lifted a hand to his throat, tore the leather cord so that the stone that always rested there flew away. Through the falling snow, the stone spun. It was gone. Ryder changed...
Echo’s eyes popped open and there he was. Ryder Duncan in the flesh, leaning over her, calling her name. He looked worried. His hair was mussed and he was sweating and breathing heavily as if he’d been running as he had in her vision. Her breath came hard and fast, her heart was pounding, she was still cold—but her tho
ughts were focused on one truth.
He’d lied to her, more than once. He’d kept secrets. How many, she had no way of knowing.
As he helped her to her feet she pushed away her earlier, silly list of pros and cons. He tried to hold her close but she slipped away and said, without looking him in the eye, “You lied to me. Cassidy is your daughter.”
Chapter 13
Echo refused to look directly at him. He reached for her, tried to gently force her to face him, but she slipped away. He’d been so scared to find her on the ground, shaking and moaning while caught in a vision. He’d been attempting to join her, as he had once before, when she’d opened her eyes.
Now she stood with her arms crossed and her back to him, her voice so soft he had to strain to her. She said, “Cassidy’s in danger.”
Rye’s heart jumped in his chest. “What do you mean? I just left her.” He spun around, ready to run back the way he’d come.
A gentle hand on his arm stilled him. He stopped, turned. She faced him now, but she was stoic, almost withdrawn. He tried to touch her mind, and found he could not. Because she was closed to him or because he had been shocked to hear her warning?
“Not now,” she said. “It happens after the weather turns cold. In my... I was...” She shook her head as if to clear it. “It began to snow. There was a man...or a woman. I couldn’t see clearly. Whoever the robed figure was, they had Cassidy trapped in the middle of a strange stone circle.”
“Trapped? Trapped how?”
“She was being threatened with a knife.”
It was his worst nightmare, that he wouldn’t be able to protect her.
“She asked for my help, but I...I couldn’t get to her.” Echo took a deep, stilling breath and then she looked him straight in the eye. “Why didn’t you tell me? I asked you specifically about Cassidy, and you told me you didn’t know her. You let me think she was a product of my own imagination.”
He’d done more than that. He’d tried to make her forget his daughter. He’d gone into her mind and tried to gently push all thoughts of Cassidy out of it. That particular spell hadn’t taken. Because Echo was too strong or because Cassidy had interfered? She did like Echo, for some reason.
How could he explain that he’d been protecting his daughter from Echo’s family? He didn’t think they would harm her, but they were Raintree and they thought that when it came to those of their kind—the magically gifted—they had free rein. They might want to make her a part of their clan. They might want to study Cassidy; they’d almost surely want to take her away until they were sure she was no danger to them or to others. And if they determined that she was a danger...
His daughter was the magical equivalent of a nuclear bomb. In the wrong hands, she could do a lot of damage. What had happened to the last clan they’d deemed a threat? The Ansara had been wiped out. No, those who called themselves Ansara, who had the blood of that powerful family, had been either killed or absorbed into the Raintree clan.
“I see,” Echo said in a lowered voice.
“Stop peeking into my head.” Why could she see his thoughts when just now hers had been closed to him? His own panic, he supposed. Or else, as he’d suspected, she was now protecting herself from him.
“I can’t help it,” she said. “It’s not all the time, thank goodness, but sometimes it’s like you’re inside my head whether I want you there or not. There have been times when it was pleasant enough to peek into your head, but...it hurts to hear so very clearly that you don’t trust me.”
“That’s not true. I don’t trust your family,” he clarified.
“Same difference,” she said, then she dropped her hand and walked away. She was headed for the boardinghouse, across the street and down a short distance. She didn’t run, but there was purpose in her step.
If he didn’t stop her she’d climb into her rental car and drive to the airport and be gone. In so many ways that would be for the best. He’d wished for her to go; he’d realized that his life would not be simple again until she was out of it.
In other ways, her leaving would be a terrible loss.
There were others here in Cloughban who could see the future. None were as powerful as Echo, none were called prophet. Still, with their help and with the information he already had to go on he could save Cassidy without her.
But dammit, he didn’t want to.
“Stop!” he said in a voice that would carry without being too commanding. He didn’t follow her into the street, he didn’t chase after her. He knew Echo well enough to understand that if he attempted to physically restrain her she’d just run farther and faster. “Don’t leave. Stay.”
She turned, but did not backtrack. Her expression was one of determination. There was no weakness there. No softness. No love.
“Don’t get sentimental on me, Duncan. It was just sex. There are plenty of other women in Cloughban who would be more than happy to warm your bed. No wonder someone tried to scare me out of town by threatening my family. Someone saw this happening. They saw us. But there is no us, is there?”
“I’m not asking you to stay for me,” Rye said, his voice rough. On a deep and undeniable level, he knew it had to be her. She was necessary; she was here in Cloughban for a reason. “I’m asking you to help me save my daughter.”
* * *
Before coming to Cloughban she’d never tried to bring on a vision. It wasn’t like she enjoyed them, or could control who or what she’d see. All her life she’d done everything possible to get rid of them, and there had never been any hint of control. What Ryder was asking her to do was impossible. Since she’d arrived he’d been trying to get her to purposely take a glimpse into the future. So far, she’d had no luck.
Of course, she’d also thought it was impossible for her to have a vision about an event that wouldn’t take place for days or even weeks. It might be months before there was snow in Cloughban. Snow was not a usual occurrence in Ireland, though it wasn’t impossible to get a few flakes, Ryder had said.
What she’d seen had been a full-on winter storm.
They sat at the back corner table, where the trio of old men normally sat. Ryder took her hand, and she grudgingly allowed him to have it.
“The reason you have such a problem controlling your abilities is simple enough, love.”
“Don’t call me love,” she snapped. It was impossible to love someone you did not trust.
He sighed and continued. “Fear. Fear colors every vision you experience. Before, during and after, you are afraid. As a result, the visions rule you—you don’t rule them.”
“I can’t...”
“No fear, Echo. No fear. You are in control. Past, present, future, you have the ability to see it all if you try. If you wish. If you embrace the visions without fear, then you will control them, not the other way around.”
After all this time, didn’t he understand her at all? “You wouldn’t say that if you’d lived your entire life reliving disasters, seeing and feeling people suffer and die, never being strong enough or fast enough to save them.”
He ignored her argument. He clasped her hand tight when she attempted to withdraw it from his. How was she supposed to run away when he held her so? She should not have turned. She should’ve gone on to the boardinghouse, packed her duffel bag and lit out without looking back.
But she had not.
“What do you wish to see?” Ryder asked. “Where do you want to go? Reach for it. I will help you.”
Still weak from the vision of Cassidy, she closed her eyes. Danger was coming for Cassidy, but at this moment it was Ryder Duncan she wanted to see. Who was he, really? What did he hide from her, other than his daughter and a complete lack of trust?
She did as he asked; she reached for what she wanted with everything she had inside. Instead of fighting her gift she
embraced it. For as long as she could remember, she’d approached her ability as if it were a separate entity from herself. A cancerous growth. A parasite. She now knew that wasn’t true. It was as much a part of her as the color of her eyes or her love for music.
For a moment, at least, she ruled her gift instead of the other way around. Echo was, at long last, in control. She saw a door ahead, a door she wished to step through. She placed her hand on a cold doorknob. She turned it; she pushed the heavy door open so she could step into a room she had never seen before.
Instead of seeing the present or the future, she went back in time. A scene formed before her, much as the vision of Cassidy had such a short time ago.
Ryder hadn’t changed much, but she could tell he was younger. Maybe not much more than twenty. Twenty-five. The scene before her was colorless, gray. The images around Ryder were indistinct, while he remained crystal clear.
As was the knife in his hand and the woman he stabbed through the heart.
Chapter 14
Echo snatched her hand from his and slid out of the booth.
“I can explain,” Rye said.
She wasn’t surprised that he’d seen what she’d seen. Just like in the vision of the Atlanta fire, he’d been with her, observing.
“I bet you can,” she said without slowing her stride. When she was near the door, she stopped, turning to face him. He wanted to chase her but he stayed seated because he knew if he stood she’d bolt from the pub. He didn’t want this conversation to take place on the street, where others might hear. How did he look to her from that vantage point? Innocent? No. He wondered if she saw that he had no regrets.
“Who was she?” Echo asked. “Someone who was a threat to you?” Someone like me?
Raintree: Oracle Page 12
