He could’ve cut her some slack, he supposed. She’d had a long day. He’d been to the States a time or two himself and he knew very well that the trip was a challenging one. He could empathize. To a point.
If he cut her some slack, they’d never be finished. And he wanted to be finished. He wanted to get this done and send her on her way. If she got too curious, as his last student had, she’d have to go. Finished or not, on the verge of an ugly death for a pretty young woman or not, it was a risk he could not, would not, take.
The crowd began to clear out half an hour before closing time. It was a weeknight, after all. Echo cleaned tables without being told. She handled a bar towel like someone who’d done it before. The way she moved was oddly tempting. Graceful but strong. She flowed from one table to another, easy and, at least for now, unworried. Yes, tempting.
He could not afford to be tempted, not by her. If he was ever stupid enough to get involved with a woman again, if he allowed his body’s demands to override his brain, it would not be someone with the last name Raintree.
One thing he could say for her. Princess or not, she did not shy away from work.
As the last customer left, Echo walked to the counter and took a stool there, directly across from Rye.
“If I was wearing a shirt this tight at home I’d get a ton of tips. Here? Nada.”
“We don’t tip.”
She pursed her lips in what he assumed was mock displeasure before saying, “So I noticed. I think tipping is a practice that should be instituted ASAP. Barmaids across Ireland would be ecstatic.”
In spite of himself, he smiled. Her complaint was lighthearted, and had been delivered with her own smile.
He didn’t allow his smile to last. She was not his friend; she was not going to stay in Cloughban.
“Be here tomorrow at eleven.”
“I’ll be working a split shift?”
He nodded.
“It’s not like you do any business at lunchtime,” she argued. “You don’t need me.”
He glared at her, just a little.
“Fine, fine, I’ll be here by eleven.”
If tonight’s reception to her was any indication, his noontime business was about to pick up. Not that he would tell her that. She might take it as a compliment. As they got to know her, his customers seemed to forget that her last name was Raintree. Most of them, anyway.
“Don’t be late.”
She headed to the back of the room to grab her sweater. “Never again, boss, I swear. I’ll be here early. I’ll stay all day. Whatever it takes to convince you that I am not spoiled and undisciplined, I’ll do it.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it. Good night, Raintree.”
“Night, boss.” She exited by the front door, and when she was gone the pub felt suddenly and completely empty.
* * *
Even satellite phones were not entirely secure, but all things considered...there was no other choice.
“There’s a Raintree in Cloughban.”
After a short pause, the man on the other end of the line asked, “Which one?”
“Echo, the prophet.”
The sigh of relief on the other end of the line could be heard from miles away. Hundreds or thousands of miles? That was a mystery. “She’s no threat. They worried about her during the conflict with the Ansara, but she was not a factor.”
The Raintree clan was always a factor! “I can kill her if you’d like.” It was a thrill to watch someone die, and a Raintree! Not just any Raintree, either, but their prophet. The keeper of their Sanctuary. At least, she used to be keeper. What was she now? Why was she here?
“No!” The sharp command left no room for argument. “A suspicious death would only bring in more of them. Just watch, for now. Alert me to any unusual activity.”
Too bad.
There was a short pause, then, “Does she know?”
“I don’t believe so.”
A pause, a gentle hum. “Perhaps she’s there to recruit Duncan.”
That was a startling thought. Ryder Duncan, part of the Raintree clan? That would be a disaster for all who opposed them. “If you let me kill her...”
Again, “No.”
In the past, hundreds of strays had been called to Cloughban. No, not hundreds. Thousands. This place, the stones that fed the energy that surrounded and flooded it, had been here for thousands of years. Maybe longer than anyone knew. Was it possible that Echo had been called here by the power of the stones, as others had? If she knew everything, if she suspected, she would not have come here on her own.
Echo Raintree walked toward the house where she was renting a room. Her stride was slow and easy. Was her presence here really a coincidence? She didn’t seem to be on alert, and she was here alone. If she knew what was coming, if any of them knew, others would be with her. An army of Raintree would be swarming the countryside.
“Keep an eye on her for now.”
“Of course.”
The call ended abruptly. It was just business, after all.
Echo walked into the house. A few moments later, the light in a second-floor window came on. She was there. Right there. On her own and unprepared. It would be so easy...
Maybe killing the Raintree woman wasn’t approved just yet, but a good scare to make her leave town would probably be seen as clever initiative.
The whisper was caught on the wind that picked up. “I’ll be watching.”
Chapter 5
Echo walked through the front door of the pub, ready to get to work. Already the place felt a little like home to her. The warm atmosphere, the smell of ale and wood polish, gave a kind of comfortable aura. Ryder Duncan stood behind the bar in his usual place, and he did not look happy. He glanced up, shot some seriously dark eye daggers her way, then shook his head.
The Drunken Stone was a lot busier than it had been yesterday. The same three old men were in what was probably their usual spot, but today four other tables were occupied. At this time of day there was more food and tea being served than cider and beer. It truly was a village gathering place. Every town needed a place like this one.
She dropped her sweater and purse in the back room, then headed toward a grumpy Duncan. “What’s up?”
“You’re twenty-three minutes late,” he said in a sharp voice.
“That’s specific.” She looked around and saw no clock. He wasn’t wearing a watch. One of his things, she imagined.
“What happened to ‘I’ll be on time, boss’?”
“I wanted to look around town, and it’s not like you do a lot of lunch business.”
Duncan swept his hand out to indicate the customers.
“Well, how was I supposed to know?”
“Table four’s order is up,” he snapped as Doyle walked out of the kitchen.
Echo got to work without delay. Thank goodness the customers were a lot friendlier than her boss. They were a little distant—they didn’t treat her as if she were one of their own—but they weren’t outwardly rude the way Brigid had been when Echo had mentioned her name.
A couple of them called her love, and she did not chastise them. Their intent seemed to be cordial enough. Duncan hadn’t called her love since she’d told him not to. If he called her anything at all it was Raintree. On his lips, her surname sounded like a curse.
The early lunch crowd was all male, but just after noon three women came in together. It was obvious that they were here to see her. One of the three was Brigid, the woman who’d sold Echo her green sweater before getting all snippy. The way the women glared at her, with interest and more than a touch of antagonism...apparently they didn’t get a lot of new people in Cloughban. Apparently they didn’t want new people.
It didn’t take any special abilities to tell th
at these ladies didn’t like her. Gideon kept insisting she was a powerful empath, but Echo had fought that curse tooth and nail. Endure the feelings of those around her as well as her own? Experience their hate, love, heartbreak and fear as if it was her own? No, thanks. Whenever she felt that ability drift to the surface, she did her best to beat it down.
As she was cleaning up a recently vacated booth, she heard one woman say to Brigid, “I asked Rye about hiring Shay a few months back, and he said he wasn’t busy enough to take on a waitress. Apparently this Echo has special skills that my Shay doesn’t possess.”
The innuendo was so blatant it couldn’t even be called innuendo. It was an out-and-out insult. Echo considered setting the woman straight, but Duncan insisted that she learn discipline. She supposed letting something like that slide was the height of discipline. She’d show him.
While the women waited for their food to be prepared, Echo managed to stay busy elsewhere. She chatted with a couple of customers, and cleaned tables that didn’t really need to be cleaned. When it was ready, she delivered thick vegetable soup and ham and cheese sandwiches to the table. She managed to keep a smile on her face, a smile that was not returned. She even nodded to Brigid, an acknowledgment that they had met. Echo was no fool. The tight T-shirt had been intended to appeal to Duncan’s male customers. It only seemed to piss the women off.
It was odd. Yesterday, right after she’d arrived, everything in town had seemed so bright. The flowers, the shop windows, the people. Brigid wore a nice outfit she’d surely gotten at her own shop, but it was a drab gray green. The other two were dressed plainly; they wore little or no makeup, and but for plain wedding rings they wore no jewelry, either. If there were Children of the Corn nearby, she was looking at their mothers.
The wind picked up. Echo heard it howling around the building, rattling the door, as she placed a fresh pitcher of water on the table. The wind whistled, danced and howled. The wooden sign that read Drunken Stone, a sign that hung outside near the entrance, clanked loudly against the side of the building. One of the women jumped. The other two ignored the howl and whistle of the wind. Maybe it was normal, for Cloughban. She hadn’t been here long enough to know.
They ate, but did not linger afterward. The woman who had mentioned “her Shay” gave Echo one last glare as she walked out the door and into the wind, which caught her dark hair and made it stand straight up for one weird moment.
When the last of the lunchtime customers had left, Echo sat at the bar and faced Duncan. Again.
“Sorry I was late,” she said with sincerity. “It won’t happen again.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”
She couldn’t very well argue with him. She had been late.
There was so much she wanted to know about the man before her. The questions that filled her head as she looked at him were all personal. Are you married, boss? Got a girlfriend? I didn’t see a gym on my way into town, so how do you keep those muscles? I see Romany in you and I know the Irish are not fans of tinkers, so how did you get here?
None of those were wise questions, so she said simply, “Tell me about Cloughban.”
His response was immediate and rather cool. “Why?”
“I know it’s home for you, but to me Cloughban is entirely different from anywhere I’ve ever lived. It’s so far off the beaten path I had a hard time finding it. I kept getting turned around.” She couldn’t keep looking into his eyes, which were so dark and deep and angry they made her shiver. “I know there are farms nearby—I saw a ton of sheep on the way in—but...why does anyone live here? Why live so far away from everything?”
“You don’t see the charm?” Again, his sarcasm.
“Don’t get me wrong. It’s nice enough, in a ‘I want to remove myself from society’ kind of way, but where’s the nightlife? What do the people of Cloughban do for fun?”
“Fun?” he asked, as if the concept were a foreign one.
“Music, theater, sports. Good heavens, Duncan, I haven’t even found a hint of Wi-Fi anywhere in town.” She’d walked around town all morning with her cell phone set to Wi-Fi and held high above her head as she watched for a flicker of a connection. Nada.
“Ah, the internet. I’ve heard of that.”
She gasped, shocked, then almost instantly realized he was pulling her leg. So he did have a sense of humor in there. Somewhere.
“I pretty much figured there would be no cell service here.” If she’d planned this trip more carefully, she would’ve invested in a satellite phone. But she hadn’t so she was off the grid, so to speak. “And as I said, no Wi-Fi.”
He leaned against the bar, casual but still wound tight. “You live in a world of electronics. We don’t. Instead of playing computer games, we play cards or board games. Instead of chatting with people online, we chat with actual living, breathing people. Face-to-face. For escapist entertainment we have books, and storytellers.”
“Storytellers?”
“They tell the tales of fairies and leprechauns, of dark magic and light. Nevan is a quite talented seanachai. Why do we have need of Wi-Fi?”
“In this day and age it’s barbaric to be without it,” she said softly.
Duncan smiled. He did have a nice smile. Among other attributes. Her heart did a little extraexcited pitter-pat. Wait, no, that was not just her heart.
Damn, this was bad. Why couldn’t he be an old white-haired man with stooped shoulders and yellow teeth? Why couldn’t Nevan be the local wizard? She’d never be tempted to just sit and look at him.
“What about music?” she asked.
“There’s music in church on Sunday morning, and on occasion the schoolchildren will put on a show.”
She’d seen the quaint two-room schoolhouse as she’d driven into town. Judging by the size of the building and the number of people she’d seen out and about, there probably wouldn’t be much more than a dozen children in that school. How good could they be?
Music was essential to life. It was a way to express joy and sorrow. The right song at the right time had the power to lift her spirits even on the worst day. She couldn’t live without it, and didn’t want to try. Whether listening or singing herself, she needed music.
Gathering her courage, she said, “I sing.”
Duncan was not impressed. “Many people do. Crazy old Tully sings all the time. He can’t carry a tune, though, so don’t encourage him.”
He wasn’t going to make this easy for her. Why had she expected that he would? Everything about Duncan was difficult. “That’s not what I mean,” she said. “Is there a guitar in this town?”
“Of course there is.”
There was no “of course” about it. She could take nothing for granted here.
Echo felt as if she was definitely experiencing some of the worst days of her life. A difficult and reluctant teacher. An imaginary little girl. No Wi-Fi! She needed music. It was the one thing she was good at that was normal, that required no magic. When she sang she had nothing to hide from the world.
“Tonight, instead of just waiting tables, how about you let me sing for your customers?”
For the first time since she’d met him, Duncan looked genuinely surprised. “Why?”
She leaned slightly over the bar, excited in a way she hadn’t been in quite a while. “Trust me, boss.”
He leaned toward her. Holy crappola, he smelled like fresh-cut grass and spring rain and man. Why did he have to smell good? Why couldn’t he stink?
His voice was emotionless as he asked, “When you have a job that includes singing, do you show up on time?”
“Always.”
“Then we have a deal.” He offered his hand for a shake, and she took it. They shook once, then quickly released. Echo’s hand continued to tingle long after he’d let it go. She could still feel his touch a
s she stepped outside. Must be a wizard thing, she decided as she headed back toward her rented room, a couple of fresh Drunken Stone T-shirts clutched in her hand.
She was almost there when she realized that the wind had died down. It was actually quite a lovely day. Cool, but sunny and clear. She’d teased Duncan about living here, and she did feel as if she’d lost a limb without her phone, but there were moments when she very clearly saw the appeal. It was almost like stepping back in time to the fifties or the sixties. She didn’t have to worry about email or phone messages, and she hadn’t even turned on the small television in her room.
There was one problem, though. Her cousins would have a fit if she just disappeared without a word. The last thing she needed was Gideon, Mercy, and Dante searching for her. They were busy with their own families, their own hectic lives, but eventually they would miss her. She’d be easy enough to follow to a certain point, through the plane ticket and car rental, and she had no doubt that they could find her here if they tried.
She did not want her cousins and Duncan to come face-to-face with her in the middle. No way. Not ever. Her family could and would find her if they put their minds to it. She’d told them she wanted to be on her own for a while, so there was no reason for them to search for her right away, but still...maybe she should make sure.
Echo decided she’d change clothes and then head into town for a few postcards and stamps. She didn’t need to say much. A simple “I’m fine, need some time alone” should do the trick.
* * *
Rye sat in the rear booth Nevan and his pals usually occupied for a good part of the day, his legs thrust beneath the table. Even they were gone. Echo and Doyle wouldn’t be back for a couple of hours; he had the place to himself.
He grasped the small, warm stone in his hand and closed his eyes, and there she was. Echo, a picture in his mind. A picture as clear as if she truly stood before him. She’d changed clothes. She wore jeans still, but now she wore boots and a loose-fitting long-sleeved purple shirt instead of a Drunken Stone T-shirt and comfortable tennis shoes. She smiled at the young man who sold her three postcards. He was smitten. She had no idea.
Raintree: Oracle Page 5