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.
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.