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The powers Ryder had been born with were there, but they were buried deep beneath unnatural abilities that had been poured into him a very long time ago. Poured by his mother, who Ryder had admitted gave him more magic than he’d been born with. She had not taught her young son, Echo realized, she’d changed him. The magic she’d worked hadn’t been good or healing. Instead, it was as if she had cursed him. She’d forced this darkness upon him. He hadn’t been made to carry that much power and so it had warped him. Perhaps she’d thought she was doing him a favor...
Some favor. She’d made her son a Jekyll and Hyde. Had his soul been in constant battle since then? Light against dark—innate abilities fighting against a powerful curse.
She had so often thought of her own abilities as a curse, but this...this was a true curse.
Echo placed a hand on Ryder’s arm hoping for more insight, but he quickly shook her off. He turned dark eyes to her, and she saw the battle. Another being, a dark one, had been created when his mother had cursed him. Had she realized what she was doing?
“Curses can be broken,” she whispered. Ryder wouldn’t need talismans to hold back the curse, not if it was removed entirely. That was the only good she saw in this, the only positive development. He had not been born with dark magic; it had been forced upon him.
“What if I don’t want this particular curse broken, Raintree?”
She placed her hand on his arm again, and this time she wouldn’t allow him to shake her off. “My name is Echo, and you love me.”
The smile he gave her was cruel. “No, I don’t.”
He said he didn’t love her, but after that initial attempt at distancing himself from her—which she’d handled easily—he didn’t move away or push her back. Something within him liked her touch. Still holding his arm, she closed her eyes and tried to concentrate, tried to identify more. When? How? What could she do to help? She gave it everything she had, but it was not enough.
Until Cassidy took her free hand and squeezed.
At the child’s touch, power rushed into Echo. It was the kind of power that could easily knock a woman off her feet, but Echo remained standing. She was strong; she was determined. Ryder’s arm was cold and hard beneath one palm; Cassidy’s warm, soft hand was in the other. Cassidy’s touch fed Echo. It empowered her.
Images filled Echo’s head, while a sharp pain filled her heart. She saw beyond the darkness and strength she’d found before in the man she loved. She saw a boy, the boy Ryder had once been. Hair too long, eyes too dark and filled with pain...she would have recognized him anywhere. Anytime.
He had not asked for this, had not sought it.
Yes, the curse could be broken, but only Ryder’s mother, the woman who had cast the dark spell, knew how. And she was long dead.
She didn’t have to tell Ryder what she saw. He slipped into her head the way he sometimes did, but more completely than before. It would be difficult to hide anything from him now. She was going to have to try...
“Even if I wanted to go back to the man I was, and I do not, it’s impossible.”
“Maybe not,” Echo said as she dropped her hand and stepped away from Ryder. Cassidy’s hand remained in hers. She gave the child’s small hand a little squeeze, an offer of comfort, of hope.
Ryder closed his eyes. She could see the struggle in him. “I can’t...”
“You can!” she insisted.
He opened his eyes and looked at her, and in a flash she saw a hint of the man she loved. For a split second she saw who he was, who he might one day be again. It was not too late.
“I can’t,” he said again, but then he added, “Not yet. Maisy wasn’t working alone. This isn’t over. I need every advantage I have...”
“This is not an advantage!” she argued.
He would not be swayed. “Look into the future, Raintree prophet,” he said in an unkind tone, and the man she’d glimpsed was once again gone. “I can’t save Cassidy if I’m weak.”
“You’re not weak,” she argued.
“Look, if you can. If you have honed your powers at all while you’ve been here, you’ll see and know, as I do, that without this curse the men who are coming to Cloughban will win.” This time he took her hand, and he squeezed tight. Too tight. She thought her bones might break if he continued to squeeze so hard.
She did see, and for a moment her heart stopped. They were gone. They were supposed to be gone! She knew who was coming for Cloughban, who was coming for the stones and the power, for the sanctuary. A name popped into her head as if it were a flashing neon sign, and in that instant she knew who was coming for Cassidy.
As Ryder released her hand, she stepped back and gasped, “Ansara.”
* * *
Rye walked slowly back toward town. Echo was in his wake, silent—for once—but refusing to give up. He’d told her to stay at the cottage with Cassidy and the others, but she’d refused. Refused to stay behind, refused to be protected. Why did he care if she was protected or not?
He’d placed a spell on the cottage and the people inside, hiding them from prying eyes, keeping them safe. He didn’t care about the others, but deep inside he did care about his daughter. Not because she was his daughter, his blood, his child, but because she was so incredibly powerful she might one day be of use to him.
