She stood in a building—a warehouse, by the looks of it—engulfed in flames. She was at the center; she saw it all. Fire licked at the walls and danced on the ceiling. White-hot fire climbed and danced as if it were a living thing. It looked to her as if the entire building was made of wood that begged to be kindling. The ceilings were high. The walls were awash with graffiti, garish colors in an otherwise colorless place.
In the distance, she heard a faint scream. Who was calling? Where were they? Was she too late again? There was a small explosion, and heat washed over her in a wave that almost threw her to the ground. For a few seconds she had managed to stay in control, but now she could not breathe. She was going to burn; she was going to die here, along with the person she was meant to save...
Suddenly she was not alone. Duncan stood beside her, stoic as ever. Judging by the expression on his face and the easy way he breathed, he was not at all alarmed.
“You’re not really near the fire,” he said calmly. “You cannot feel the heat.”
She knew he was right, but with each second that passed it seemed more real. “I can feel it.”
He took her shoulders in his big hands and turned her about so she faced him. They were rarely so close. She had to tilt her head back to see his eyes. Reflections of flames danced there.
“Where are we?” he asked sharply. “When are we?”
“I don’t know...”
Instead of being frustrated with her failure, he remained calm. “You do, love. It’s there.” He tapped her forehead with one finger. “It’s here.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The air she took into her lungs was cool, fresh, not at all heated. She smelled Duncan, not the fire and smoke that would not, could not, harm her. His scent was pleasant; it was his and his alone. He smelled like man and wood polish and grass. He smelled a little like the beer he served but, as far as she could tell, never consumed.
Again, in the distance, that scream. It sounded like a child.
“You can’t do the boy any good if you panic.” Finally, he began to show a hint of frustration. Just a hint. “Where. When?”
Echo took a deep breath of cool, Duncan-scented air, and with it she drew on his calmness. She searched her own mind deeper than she had before. She wasn’t in the warehouse; the fire did not threaten her. She was a watcher, sent here by whatever force had gifted or cursed her with this ability.
“Atlanta,” she said. “A Peachtree...something.”
“Peachtree what, love?” Duncan whispered.
She came up with an address, could see the street sign and the numbers on the old building. The boy should not be here. There was a skateboard...
“When?”
Again, she went to that new place in her head. It was harder than coming up with an address, much harder, but when she saw the time she laughed. “Not yet. Duncan, the fire has not started yet!”
In an instant the vision disappeared, on a flash of flame and a fading scream. Echo opened her eyes to find that she was still on the stairway. Duncan was beside her, one arm wrapped protectively around her. A wonderfully heavy arm was draped around her waist. A comforting hand pressed against her back. She turned her head; his face was right there and she was so happy...she kissed him.
It was a kiss of joy, a way of celebrating a bit of newfound control and the fact that this time she was not too late. But it was a kiss, and as kisses sometimes do, it changed quickly.
Echo was far from a stranger to kisses. Friendly and passionate, impulsively and well-planned...she had been kissed. But this kiss with Duncan swept her away in an instant. He tasted so good; their mouths fit together so well. She forgot fire, she forgot the constant rain; she forgot who she was and why she was here. Only for an instant, but it was an instant that shook her to her core.
Duncan’s shield didn’t come down, not entirely, but it shimmered. It was weakened. Weakened by her and the kiss he had not expected. She felt that, too.
As a first kiss, it was unplanned but stellar. Heaven above, it was amazing. He smelled good. Their mouths fit together without even a hint of awkwardness. Their bodies aligned perfectly, and if she had her way this moment would never end.
It was Duncan who pulled away, who broke the short but passionate kiss with a curse she could not understand. Gaelic, she supposed. She only knew it was a curse because of his tone.
He cursed, but he did not move away. His body remained close to hers; he held her, still.
When Duncan had joined her he’d closed the door behind him, the door between the stairway and the pub and the people there. Though there were many people close, she and her boss, her teacher, were effectively alone. She could relax here, for a moment or two. She did not have to jump up and make excuses, did not have to explain away what had happened. Not the vision or the kiss.
“Thank you,” she said. For the help, for the training, for unexpectedly coming into the vision with her, something she had not known was possible. And yes, for the kiss. In spite of his scowl, she grinned. “I have a phone call to make.” She jumped up and ran up the stairs to his room; this was a call she’d prefer to make in private.
She was dialing when she glanced up and out the window and realized that the rain had stopped and the moon shone brightly in a cloudless sky.
Chapter 8
Having realized some real success, Echo approached her next lesson with a renewed purpose. If she could help people, if she could save lives instead of simply watching people suffer and die, then she had no right to wish her abilities away. Duncan seemed to understand that she was determined to be a better student.
He locked the pub doors, front and back. Instead of sitting at a table for their lesson, as he normally did, he moved a few tables aside, clearing the center of the big room. She’d meditated and worked on her focus, and they’d discussed her past troubles and tried to identify clues she’d missed, clues that might help her to identify and improve her gifts.
Looking back, she admitted there had been signs she’d missed. She’d been so determined to deny the visions, she’d blocked all the clues.
A part of her still longed to be normal, but who was she kidding? That wasn’t meant to be. She was Raintree.
Echo and her teacher, a man she was much too attracted to for her own good, especially after that kiss, stood face-to-face in the space he’d cleared for this lesson. He stood so close she had to tip her head back in order to look him in the eye. Those eyes were so dark, so intense, she held her breath for a long moment. He would barely have to move in order to put his mouth on hers again.
“Why are we here?” she asked when he remained silent and still for too long.
“You came to me, Raintree. Have you changed your mind?”
Echo shook her head. She didn’t mean here in Cloughban; she meant here in the center of the pub. But she didn’t argue. She knew damn well he hadn’t cleared the floor for a dance.
“Listen,” he whispered.
Not to him, she knew that, so she didn’t respond. He’d get to the point eventually. He always did.
“There’s energy everywhere. Inside us, around us. Between us.”
Oh, yes, there was definitely energy between them...
“Don’t get distracted,” he admonished, as if he’d read her mind. Again.
“You are not a carnival fortune-teller,” he continued. “There is no ace up your sleeve, no con man’s tricks in your repertoire. You, Echo Raintree, are connected to the energy in this world in a way few, if any, will ever know. You are an oracle, a prophet. A miracle.”
“I don’t understand what this...”
“Accept who you are, here and now. See and feel the energy around us, and accept yourself not as a small part of it but as its master.”
“I’m not the master of anything,” she whispe
red.
“You are,” he said. “Whether you like it or not, you are. The question is, will you accept who you are or will you deny it until the uncontrolled energy that’s flowing into your body destroys you?”
What choice did she have? None.
Duncan rotated his head as if working a crick out of his neck. He closed his eyes. The muscles in his arms and in his neck visibly tensed.
And Echo was assaulted. Under normal circumstances, she’d dismiss the sudden sensations as nerves or maybe an illness coming on. Her stomach clenched. The hairs on her arms stood up and danced. The assault continued; it grew stronger. Yes, this was what a coming vision felt like.
“Energy,” Duncan said. “You can allow it to assault you or you can take control.”
“How?”
“Shield yourself. Use your own energy to repel mine.”
She tried. Goodness knows she’d been taught how to protect herself against negative energies, but it had never felt like this. She was under attack.
“Try harder,” Duncan insisted.
Instead of arguing—her first impulse—Echo did. She tried harder. She strengthened her shield, imagined it thicker, stronger. Impenetrable.
She didn’t say a word when she no longer felt the distress of the energies Duncan was sending her way, but he knew. Almost immediately he said, “Good. Now, allow a small amount of the energy in.”
“I just managed to block it out.”
“You’re not controlling the energies, though, you’re just protecting yourself.”
That was the point, right? Echo took a deep breath. No, simple protection was not the point. Not anymore.
She tried to allow a small stream of energy in, but soon her shields fell and she was once again awash in amazing streams of force that Duncan sent her way.
The attack stopped, and he took a step back. “Not bad,” he said in a lowered voice. “But we still have a lot of work to do. We’ll try again tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. She would be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. Why did that knowledge bring a smile to her face?
* * *
Rye fingered the leather cord that peeked out from his collar. After a moment he made an adjustment, pushing the cord beneath his shirt so it didn’t show. The blessed stone at his throat and the leather cuff on his right wrist never came off. They couldn’t. He could fashion a charmed amulet for Echo, but he knew her cousins had tried that and charms hadn’t proven sufficient.
Besides, he didn’t want her to depend on charms and spells to deal with her abilities. She had to learn. Acceptance had to be step one. Her constant fight against who and what she was had made it impossible for her to take charge.
He knew very well what he was, what he could be.
If he was going to teach control, perhaps he should find some of his own. He didn’t possess nearly enough to deal with Echo Raintree, day in and day out. To watch her, to touch her, to step into visions with her so she would not be alone. The kiss had been a colossal mistake, one he dared not repeat.
She’d be here soon for yet another afternoon lesson. After an hour, maybe an hour and a half at most, they would both be spent. He taught, she learned. They both worked very hard to ignore the attraction that sparked between them. Her ability to shield herself was improving quickly, but she still had trouble controlling the energy around her.
He should’ve sent Echo away when he could have. That first day, he should’ve stood his ground and sent her packing. Not only did he now care about her more than he should, she’d been touched by the power of the stones. He had to finish the job, or she’d leave in worse shape than she’d been when she’d arrived. They had made progress, as her last vision proved.
She’d called her cousin in North Carolina, Gideon, the one who was a cop. Gideon made calls of his own and had saved a young man who’d snuck into an abandoned building to practice his skateboarding skills just minutes before a quickly spreading electrical fire broke out.
Rye hadn’t told Echo about the stones, and if he had any choice he wouldn’t. They were tempting. Intoxicating. Powerful. And the last thing he needed was a parade of power-hungry Raintrees marching through Cloughban. Taking her there would be a last resort.
He had not told her about Cassidy, either, and as far as he knew they’d not had another encounter. Just as well. The Raintree could not know about his daughter.
For the past five days the sun had shone in Cloughban. Echo had not had another vision, not sleeping or waking. Considering how they’d been progressing, she was surprised. Pleased, but surprised.
In addition to working on her ability to control energies, their lessons consisted of honing her concentration. Through meditation—something at which she did not excel—and mental exercises, they practiced. Only through mastery of her mind and body could she ever hope to control her gifts.
One of the most important things for her to accept would be that she could not save everyone. People died every day. She could have vision after vision and not save them all. As she honed her skills her predictions would become more selective.
It had already begun. Perhaps the skateboard boy was destined to do something important with his life. That or an as-yet-to-be-conceived son or daughter or grandchild had an important role to fill in future events. It was impossible to know why he had been chosen, why her vision had led to a second chance for that child. That was something else she’d have to accept—a lack of answers to the many questions still to come.
She had a lot of questions. He heard them, whispers from her mind to his, even though she had not yet found the courage to ask them aloud. She would, in time. You’re supposed to be so powerful; why have I never seen a demonstration? Why do you stay here, in the middle of nowhere? What is it with this town, anyway? And the one he picked up on almost constantly. Are you going to kiss me again?
He’d just as soon send her on her way before he had to answer any of those questions.
* * *
She’d grabbed a scone and two cups of strong tea before leaving the boardinghouse, and enjoyed a walk through town. It looked to be another sunny day. Wasn’t it supposed to rain all the time in Ireland? Wasn’t that why the grass was so green? Maybe Duncan was right and it was all her fault. She was happy, so the sun shone.
She was happy.
It had been such a long time since Echo had been truly happy that she was almost giddy with it. She didn’t even think much about the threat to her parents. Did that make her a bad daughter? No. She knew they were safe on Sanctuary land. Gideon wouldn’t let any harm come to them.
Besides, given the way some of the women in town mooned over Duncan, the warning had probably come from some besotted female who saw the American newcomer as a threat. Would it have been all that hard to find a photo of her parents on the internet and do the rest? It did show an amazing bit of commitment that hinted at a serious bunny-boiling-on-the-stove mental issue, but she could think of no other reason for anyone to threaten her.
There had been no hint of danger since that one.
As she walked past the shop where she’d bought her green sweater and the newer raincoat and boots, she experienced a distinct chill. Could Brigid be the one who’d left the disturbing picture? Had she reacted in the extreme because she’d instantly seen Echo as a threat? She was really too old for Duncan. The clerk wasn’t old enough to be his mother, but she was certainly old enough to be his mother’s slightly younger sister.
Duncan had been teaching her to listen to her instincts rather than fighting them, to accept them as a natural part of herself. It hadn’t been easy; she was constantly afraid of another crippling vision. But as she walked into the town square she attempted to let loose the empathic abilities that both Duncan and Gideon insisted she possessed in spades. She opened herself up to the energies around her. Good and bad, s
trong and weak.
As always, the square was perfectly put together. Flowers bloomed, everything was clean and fresh, every shop window sparkled. Scents from the bakery filled the air, and a few residents who were already out and about nodded and said hello. Echo took a deep breath and opened herself in a way she had always been afraid to do. She reached for energy instead of denying it. She embraced her magic.
She was instantly—but gently—overwhelmed.
Why had she never seen this before? Cloughban was no ordinary town. It wasn’t just Duncan who was special. She was surrounded by strays. Independents. Most were not very powerful; some had nothing more than what most would call good instincts, or extraordinary good luck. But there were a few, a handful, who were quite gifted.
Mind readers, telekinetics, healers. Shifters! She had never met one, though she’d heard of a distant cousin who had that ability. Fire control, water manipulation...mind manipulation.
Cloughban wasn’t all that different from the Raintree Sanctuary. These people had been called here, each and every one of them. They had been drawn together, called to a place where their kind could live in peace.
Cassidy, that enchanting little girl, was one of them.
Echo pursed her lips and frowned. She looked around, trying to assign an ability to those villagers she could see. It didn’t work that way, not for her at least. The energies swirled and danced, much like the flames she’d seen in her last vision, but she could not single out where those energies belonged.
She was fascinated, but she was also puzzled. Strays didn’t congregate, they didn’t gather in clusters, didn’t populate small towns. At least, she’d never heard of such a thing.
She had one last, strong sense of being surrounded by powerful forces before she purposely shut down.
But not quite soon enough. One last thought filled her head, a truth that would not be denied. Many of these people had come to Cloughban because Ryder Duncan was here. He was their leader, their Dranir as much as Dante had ever been for the Raintree clan.
Raintree: Oracle Page 8