this weekend. She’d love if it you came to a game.” He laughed. “I promise you, softball at this age is absolutely hilarious. It’ll be worth the trip.”
Unfortunately, hilarity was not in her immediate future. Echo hesitated. She ran a lone, dirty fingernail across the top of her desk. She’d always been a little bit of a rebel, but this...this was going to take real courage. “Any chance Emma is ready to take on her role as caretaker of the Sanctuary?” she asked. After all, Emma was destined to one day take on this job. It was what she’d been born to do.
Gideon’s tone changed; she could hear the seriousness over the phone lines, could feel it even before he spoke. “She’s five years old, so no. Not yet.” His voice lowered, making her wonder if there was anyone else around. “Dammit, Echo, she deserves as normal a childhood as we can give her.”
Echo paused. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. No one was going to be happy about this, but what choice did she have?
She’d never had control over her powers of prophesy, and she’d actively fought the empathic powers her cousins insisted she possessed. Powers they said would grow in time. She didn’t want to be an empath, didn’t want to suffer the feelings of others. She didn’t want to be a prophet, either, suffering their disasters, as well, but there wasn’t much to be done for that. Was it too much to want control over her life? No, it was not. For all she knew the same magic that made this land a safe haven for others in her clan was causing the distressing shift in her abilities.
She had to start somewhere and this was it.
“Call Dante and tell him there’s a position to fill,” she said, calling on every ounce of bravery she possessed. She took another deep breath. “I quit.”
One year later
Ireland. Echo had always wanted to visit, it was on her short bucket list, and now here she was. This trip was hardly a vacation, though. She was on a mission. She needed help, the kind of help her cousins had tried—and failed—to give her.
The village of Cloughban was well off the beaten path. She’d gotten turned around three times trying to find her way here. The GPS on her phone seemed to think the place didn’t exist, but she had a map. An actual paper map that was so old she handled it carefully so as not to tear it along the folds. Still, she’d taken more wrong turns than she cared to admit to. She’d almost given up once, but at this point she couldn’t afford surrender.
Echo parked her rental car in a small space beside the village pub—the Drunken Stone, a name which made no sense at all—exited the vehicle with purpose and walked toward the center of town. It felt good to stretch her legs, as she tried to decide how to proceed from here.
In spite of her troubles, she was instantly charmed. She’d left behind the stifling humidity of a North Carolina autumn heat wave for a cool breeze and...this.
The village might’ve come right off a postcard. The road was narrow, barely wide enough for two small cars. There wasn’t a single building in town taller than two stories high. They were all very old, that was evident in the weathered stone-and-brick walls. The buildings were dull grays and browns, but the doors had been painted bright colors—red, purple, blue and green—and there were flowers everywhere. In window boxes and large tubs along the sidewalk. Hanging near shop entrances, stems loaded with blooms flowing from earthenware pots to the ground. She slowed her step, momentarily caught up in the simple beauty of the place.
The windows of the shops along the main road were all enticing, their offerings tempting. Candy, colorful scarves, hats and jackets, cheeses and wines. Ice cream and coffee. If she stayed here for a while, if she found what she was looking for, that might become her favorite establishment.
The sun was shining, but thanks to an increasingly stiff breeze it was cooler than Echo had expected. She hugged her arms to herself, wishing she’d grabbed her lightweight jacket out of her duffel bag. She didn’t want to go back to the car to get it. The walk back would hardly be a long one, but if all went well she might be here for a while, and she needed to be properly equipped for the weather. This trip was not much more than a whim, and in a fit of frustration she’d just thrown a few clothes into her red duffel without giving much thought to the weather. She stopped in front of a boutique with her eye on a dark blue sweater in the window.
How did a store like this survive in a town so small? She supposed the locals had to have a place to shop other than the next town over, but still, through the window the boutique looked to be stuffed to the gills with really nice, upscale merchandise.
Echo stepped into the shop, which was smaller than she’d thought it would be as she’d peeked through the window. Small, but crammed with shelves and racks of colorful clothing. And hats! There was a very interesting collection of hats on a rack at the back of the store. The clerk behind the counter, a middle-aged woman with reddish-blond hair and an easy, wide smile, said, “Hello. Can I help you?” Her accent was lovely, lilting and almost musical. Echo realized she was the one with the accent here.
“I saw a beautiful blue sweater in the window.”
The woman waved her hand dismissively as she stepped around the counter. “Ah, you don’t want that sweater. It’s far too expensive and the color is all wrong for you. It’s too dark. You’ll look best in pastels or jewel tones. Definitely jewel tones.” She crossed the small space between the counter and the rack near where Echo stood and grabbed a green sweater. “This one will suit you much better.” She lifted the price tag. “And it’s on sale. What luck.”
The green was a better color for her, she supposed, and who could pass up a sale? Half price. It was meant to be. Echo bought the sweater, which was folded neatly and with great care before being placed in a brown paper bag. Already she was eyeing a raincoat and a matching hat, but she supposed she should wait and see how long she’d be here before she made any more investment.
The cashier cleared her throat and asked, her tone a bit too carefree, “I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you new to Cloughban? Are you visiting a relative or a friend?”
“Just visiting,” Echo said simply as she counted out the euros.
“My name is Brigid,” the saleslady said. “I hope you’ll come back while you’re here and look around some more. Do you expect to be here for a while or will yours be a short visit?”
“I don’t know yet,” Echo said honestly.
“Well, do come again.”
“Thank you, Brigid. I’m Echo Raintree, by the way. It’s very nice to meet you.” She didn’t have any idea how long she’d be here, or if she’d need more clothes, but it was a good sign that she’d made a friend right off the bat. She offered her hand for a handshake. Was that the protocol here? It seemed like the right thing to do, and since Brigid took the offered hand for a shake, she figured she wasn’t too out of line.
The handshake didn’t last long. It was, in fact, oddly brief. Brigid’s smile faded.
Echo left the pleasantries behind and got down to business. “Maybe you can help me. I’m looking for a man named Ryder Duncan. Do you by any chance know where I might find him?” Cloughban was a small enough town. Maybe it was one of those places where everyone knew everyone else.
The
