Alerted by her scream, Doyle turned around and looked at her. And smiled. Murderer. Traitor.
What had once been snow gathering on the ground and falling from the sky turned to ice. It fell, hard and sharp. The frozen pellets that quickly covered the ground began to grow. Ice crept up around Doyle’s feet. Ryder, prone on the ground, was not touched by the ice, not at first. Doyle was the target. In a matter of seconds a thick sheet of ice covered his shoes, then climbed up his ankles like frozen kudzu, a cold vine that trapped him in place. The ground around him began to turn white as the ice edged toward Ryder’s body.
Doyle looked at the blood on his hands, he looked at a fallen Ryder and then—puzzled—he glanced down at his frozen feet. The knife in his hand waved about in an almost-wild manner.
Echo ran into the circle and dropped beside Ryder. There was so much blood. It soaked his shirt and ran onto the ground, bright red against the white snow and ice. He was already so pale; his eyes were weak. So soon, so quick, he was almost gone.
“He’s all that I am now,” Ryder whispered, and then his eyes drifted closed. “He is all that I was when I walked into this circle for the last time.”
Echo rose and faced Doyle, who was flailing about as if he were on fire. The ice had reached his knees, and just beyond. The knife he’d used to stab Ryder fell from his hand, clinked against the hard ice at his feet. Trapped as he was in ice, he could not bend over to retrieve it.
“I don’t feel any different, and I can’t do anything,” he said. The ice continued to grow. “What the hell? How do I make it stop?” There was panic in his voice, in his movements. “It’s damn cold, and I don’t like it.”
“You did not take all that Ryder is,” Echo said angrily, “no matter what you thought your blasted spell would do. He’s a good man with love in his heart. He cares about people, cares about this town and the people in it. You can’t take that. You can’t become what you’re not.”
Ice climbed high on Doyle’s thighs. He was solidly frozen in place. “I just wanted his magic!” he shouted. “I don’t want to be tied down by caring about people or places, and love...love just makes you weak.”
Her heart was breaking, and still, Echo smiled. She flicked a finger against the hard ice on the side of Doyle’s leg. “Weak? Who’s weak now?”
Frustrated, he shouted, “I just wanted his abilities. I wanted to be a wizard.”
“Unfortunately for you, Ryder doesn’t have any abilities, not anymore.”
Doyle frowned. Again, he waved one hand like a bad magician trying to make a rabbit appear out of thin air. He knitted his brow, moved his hands while he still could. How long before he was completely encased in ice? “I don’t even have my own powers anymore!” He turned toward Cassidy, who stood—pale and shaking with the cold and the shock—several feet away. “Come here, girl. Hand me my knife! I command you!” Cassidy didn’t move, and once again Doyle tried to use his old abilities, the ones he’d been born with. He looked down at his knife and squinted as he attempted to make it rise. Nothing happened.
Half a dozen townspeople swarmed into the circle. Echo had not heard them coming. Her attention had been entirely on the three she’d come here to find. Suddenly, the others were there. Behind her, beside her. One kicked the knife away. It skittered over ice and into the soft grass, where it stopped. Another, and then another, attempted to knock Doyle to the ground. After a couple of tries the ice cracked and shattered, and given the way Doyle screamed a few of his bones did the same. The ice had been quite sturdy, Echo would admit. Ice born out of pain and heartbreak.
Nevan placed a heavy booted foot on Doyle’s chest and said, “I never liked you, and your vegetable soup is no better than dirty dishwater.” With just a few glances, those with abilities gathered the power of the circle and erased knowledge of the spell from Doyle. He’d never be able to try to steal another’s power.
With Doyle surrounded and no longer a threat, Cassidy ran to her father. Since others were seeing to a wounded and powerless Doyle, Echo joined the young girl. Together they bracketed the unconscious man they loved.
“I don’t suppose healing is one of your abilities,” Echo said. Ryder was alive and breathing, but barely. If he was going to die, wouldn’t she know? Wouldn’t she see or feel it? Maybe. Maybe not. Brigid was tending to the wounded in town, and by her own admission she was a minor healer. Ryder needed more than minor healing. He’d never survive the trip to town.
Cassidy looked at Echo with big, sad eyes. She was scared, and rightly so. So much responsibility rested in her young hands. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “I never tried to heal anyone before.”
Echo took one of the girl’s cold hands and squeezed, and she whispered as the snow stopped falling, “Now is the time to try.”
* * *
By the time Gideon and Hope arrived at the stone circle, led there by a couple of tired and bruised townspeople, the worst was over. Doyle had been taken into custody by the town constable, the one who had green lightning in his fingertips. Nevan, Gideon heard the man called. Echo and a young girl—older than Emma but not by much—were hunched over Ryder Duncan’s body.
Hope kept stride with him, and had since they’d left Cloughban behind. “I knew when I married you that our life would never be dull.”
“A battle every five to ten years should keep things lively.”
She sighed. “Lively is overrated. Dammit, I don’t want the girls to fight battles, not ever.”
Neither did he, but the occasional battle came with the territory. He, his wife, their girls...they would forever hide a large part of themselves from the rest of the world. They would, on occasion, have to fight for what was right.
This particular battle hadn’t been much of a challenge—though he did have a nasty bump on the head. And a headache.
For now, part of his job as a father was to make sure his daughters didn’t know too much about the dark side of magic. He didn’t even want them to know there were battles in the world. They’d find out soon enough.
He glanced around. “Why the hell is there snow?”
* * *
Rye opened his eyes. Echo and Cassidy leaned over him, their faces beautiful and near, and...worried. Behind and well above them, the moon peeked out from behind a cloud. He wished it were the sun instead of the moon. He was so damn cold.
He’d realized Echo was close when the snow had started to fall, but he had imagined she’d arrive too late to help him. It had been a relief to know that she’d be here for Cassidy. Someone had to be here for Cassidy.
The low murmur of many voices drifted to him, but he paid no attention to them. He was entirely focused on the faces of the two women he loved.
“Am I dead?” he asked.
Echo smiled and shook her head. In spite of the smile, there were tears in her eyes. “Your daughter healed you.”
“I did,” Cassidy said. Her grin was wider, fuller. Older somehow. “It was hard, but I did it!” There were no tears for his gifted daughter. She’d likely never doubted for a moment that he could save her from Doyle. She smiled at Echo. “I’m so glad you got here in time. Did the fairies lead you here again?”
“Yes,” Echo said suspiciously. “How did you know?”
Cassidy giggled. “Silly, there are no fairies anymore. That was me. They were pretty lights meant to lead you where you needed to go.” She glanced over her shoulder before Echo could respond. “Granny and Mr. McManus are here!” She jumped up and ran, and he heard her shout, “Granny! Guess what I did!”
Echo placed her head on his chest, as if checking for a heartbeat. He put a hand in her hair and held on. Maybe Cassidy had healed him, but he wasn’t quite ready to move.
“I’m so cold,” he whispered in her ear.
“Sorry,” she responded just as softly. “That was me.”
>
Snow and ice beneath his fingers, beneath his entire body. Yes, that was her.
“I convinced Doyle to take my powers instead of Cassidy’s, and he did.”
“You don’t have any powers,” Echo said without lifting her head.
“Now neither does he, I assume.” His hand settled in her hair, held her to him.
“He’s not very happy about that turn of events,” she said. She was so warm, so soft and so very much...his.
“I suppose not. Doyle was after supreme power. He was willing to sacrifice anyone and anything to have it all, and he came away with nothing.” Rye realized that he had always relied on his abilities, even when they’d been dampened. Now what? He didn’t know who he was, what he was. Unless he, like Doyle, was now nothing.
“Not nothing,” Echo whispered.
Great. She could still see into his head, he just couldn’t see into hers.
A town like Cloughban needed a mayor who was one of them. An independent, a gifted person. Cassidy needed someone who truly understood what she was facing to guide her. And Echo...Echo Raintree deserved better than an ordinary man.
“I’ve always wanted an ordinary man,” she whispered.
He didn’t believe her.
Gideon and his wife arrived to put an end to the conversation, and Rye found the strength to sit up, dislodging Echo in the process.
All his life, he’d experienced a surge of energy when he was amid the stones. He’d felt the power here as if it were a physical thing. Today, he felt nothing.
Gideon Raintree was another matter. Lightning danced on his skin, and he could not stand still. His wife laughed at him lovingly as he moved back, out of the circle.
Rye looked at Echo and said, “Believe it or not, I’m glad your cousin is here.”
“Me, too.”
Their reasons were likely not the same. Rye gathered all his courage to say, in a calm and detached voice, “He can take you home.”
Chapter 26
“Of course I have a room free!” Maeve Quinlan said as she climbed the stairs to the second floor. Showered and changed, hair fixed and makeup applied, she looked very little like the woman who had wielded an iron skillet as an effective weapon just a few hours earlier. “Not Maisy’s room,” she added in a tight voice. “I am shocked, shocked, I tell you, to think that she would...well, we won’t discuss that unpleasantness.”
Echo trailed behind, allowing Maeve, Gideon and Hope to go ahead of her.
“I will not give you her room,” the landlady said forcefully. “There’s no telling what kind of negative energies might be present there. Until the room is thoroughly cleaned in every way, no one can stay there.” She tsked. “I imagine I’ll have to sage the entire house to clear it of dark energies. That Doyle stayed here for a few nights before he rented his house out by the Conor place. Yet another reason to give the house a good, thorough cleaning.”
The residents of Cloughban had never flaunted their gifts. Not in her presence, at least. Echo didn’t know what most of them were capable of. What were Maeve’s gifts? Beyond making killer scones.
The landlady turned, glanced past Gideon and Hope and said in a sweet voice, “I’m a witch, dear. Just your ordinary, everyday witch.”
Echo sighed. A witch as well as a mind reader apparently. This was not an easy town to keep secrets in. How had Doyle and Maisy done it?
Maeve answered that thought. “Oh, they were much better at hiding their feelings and thoughts than you have ever been. If you stay awhile, I’d be happy to help you with that.”
Would she be here for a while?
“I don’t know, dear. I’m a mind reader, not a psychic.”
Hope snapped, “Whatever you two are doing, stop it.”
Gideon cast a censuring glance Echo’s way. “We’re all tired. Let’s get some sleep and we’ll head out in the morning.”
Would she head out in the morning? Was this her last night in Cloughban?
Maeve escorted Gideon and Hope to a room at the end of the hall. Hope turned and hugged Echo tightly. There was love in that hug. They both needed it at the moment.
“Does it ever stop?” Hope whispered.
“No,” Echo said, the word not much more than a breath. There would always be bad people who wanted to use those who had paranormal abilities for their own profit or entertainment. And for someone like Cassidy...how could Ryder keep her safe from a world filled with people who would either hate her or crave her for the abilities with which she’d been born?
Gideon lifted a hand and gave her a tired wave instead of a hug. She returned the gesture. He’d always treated her like a little sister, had always protected her. He kept her safe, counseled her, scared away inappropriate boyfriends. But she was a grown woman now, and he couldn’t protect her from everything and everyone. Though she imagined he would try if given the chance.
He had a family to take care of now. Hope and Emma and Maddy. If she ever needed him he’d come running, but it was time for her to make her own way. She needed to learn to save herself.
The door to their room closed. She imagined they’d both be asleep in five minutes, or less. Echo glanced at the door to her own room. With the exception of finding the threat to her parents there—Maisy’s doing, she now knew—it had been a good home, for a while, with a comfortable bed. She was exhausted. She could use ten or twelve hours of sleep.
An unpleasant thought slipped into her head. Had that been Doyle’s room when he’d stayed here? Was she sleeping in the same bed he had, under the same roof? Did she look out of the same window at night? The idea made her shiver. Still, she needed sleep...
She also needed Ryder, the man who had made it very clear that he didn’t want or need her.
“Men rarely know what they want or need until we tell them, dear,” Maeve said as she headed downstairs.
Echo watched her go. Witch. Mind reader. If she stayed here, if she became a part of this town, she’d be in for a life of surprises. If she stayed she’d be asking for everything she’d come here to rid herself of.
Maeve reached the end of the staircase and turned about to head toward the kitchen. Two steps, and she was no longer in view. If she was still able to read Echo’s thoughts, there was no longer any indication.
For what seemed like a long time Echo stood at the top of the stairs. This was an important decision, perhaps the most important of her life. Run and hide or fight? Take the easy way out or take what she really wanted?
She’d gotten what she came here for. While she had not rid herself of the visions they were now more manageable. She could sense when one was coming on, and she was much more in control while in the visions. Control was possible. She still had more to learn, but maybe she’d make a decent prophet, after all.
The weather issue was, she suspected, connected to the stones. Once she was away from this place—if she was away from this place—that ability would probably fade. Probably. She hoped so! Her worry on that front came and went quickly. If she went home with a new power, she’d learn to control it as she had learned to control the visions.
The enhanced empathic ability would likely remain. She wasn’t sure she liked that one much, but like the rest there wasn’t much to be done for it. She’d manage. She’d study and train and one way or another she’d make it work.
The question was, would that happen here or in North Carolina? Would she continue to learn and study with Ryder or without him?
* * *
Rye had tried to convince Echo to leave Cloughban immediately—now, tonight—but she was nothing if not stubborn. If he could see into her mind the way he once had, give her a little push, convince her in a subtle, magical way that she didn’t like him all that much...
But he couldn’t.
Not a full hour ago, Echo had gr
udgingly returned to the boardinghouse that had been her home for the past few weeks. She’d made it clear she wanted to stay with him. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want her here. Everyone who had participated in the day’s events was exhausted, mentally and physically. She needed sleep and so did her Raintree cousins.
He needed sleep, too, but the way he felt right now...it might be weeks before he slept again.
Rye felt oddly empty without his abilities. Even dampened as they’d been for years, they’d been substantial. To be without them was like losing a sense, suddenly being blind or losing the ability to smell or taste.
Given the chance, he would change nothing. Better that he be blind than for the world to have to deal with what he might have become.
Screw the world. He would give up everything so Echo and Cassidy wouldn’t have to deal with what he would have become.
Doyle, who called himself the last Ansara, was now powerless. Cassidy was safe, at least for now. For the next several years Rye would devote himself to being a father. He would teach only her if he could. Could a man with no power instruct someone like her? He would try. He would try with everything he had.
He’d continue to run the pub. He’d continue to be mayor if the people of Cloughban wanted him to do so. If they wanted someone like them, someone who was special, he would willingly step aside.
And he would do it all alone. He would not tie Echo down in this remote place. He would not tie her to the ordinary man he had become.
She had so much to offer the world; she deserved the chance to make her mark. To be a powerhouse in the magical world. Raintree princess. No, Raintree queen.
Yes, he should sleep. Not just for hours, but for days. The pub was closed. He was exhausted. His daughter had healed him; he would carry no long-lasting scar from Doyle’s attack, but the wound had drained him in a way that could not be healed with a gifted touch. He needed rest, and yet his mind would not be still.
Cassidy had gone home with her grandmother. Rye had a choice. He could try to sleep above stairs or he could go to bed in his own room in that cottage.
Raintree: Oracle Page 22
