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Shay stood next to her mother; they were dressed in plain, loose clothing that left them room to maneuver, and sturdy low-heeled boots that would allow them to run. And kick. They each held what could only be called a club. Hefty clubs, at that.
The girl who had been Maisy’s friend, who had coveted Echo’s job at the pub, who had made it clear that she didn’t like the newcomer much, caught Echo’s eye and nodded once. Echo had no idea what Shay’s powers were, but at this moment it didn’t matter. That nod was an acknowledgment. Soldier to soldier. Let’s kick some ass.
As if he were in on the silent exchange—and perhaps he was—Nevan, who carried no weapon that Echo could see, raised his voice as he surveyed the crowd. “Avoid killing the bastards if you can. This is sacred land, and the spilling of blood will darken and weaken the stones. There’s been enough blood spilled of late.” Then he, too, nodded to Echo.
She took a deep breath and stepped forward, moving closer to the woman who led the attack. Echo was no leader, never had been. She’d always been content to be a soldier, not a general. A princess, not a queen. For the most part, she did as she was told. But in a way she had never expected, these were her people. They needed guidance, with Ryder changed. Changed and, more importantly, not here.
“Go while you can,” Echo said in a commanding voice, facing the woman who seemed, at the moment, to stand a full foot taller than she.
Gideon lifted one hand and an alarming ball of lightning danced on his palm. It was a warning, nothing more.
“You’ve lost the day,” Echo said, loudly enough for everyone on the street to hear. “The people of Cloughban have no wish to align with you or with the Raintree. They’re independent and will remain so. Leave. No one has to die today.”
Behind the leader, the other six prepared to do battle. Guns and swords were raised. She saw no evidence of powers among them. At least, none that could be used in a fight. Echo allowed her empathic abilities to come to life. She reached out, trying to ascertain what dangers these invaders would offer. Fire, lightning, balls of energy.
Nothing. This new clan was so weak they were all but powerless. No wonder they wanted the stones—and these people and Cassidy—so badly!
A short, dark-haired man standing behind and to the left of the tall woman fired the first shot. The bullet missed its intended mark—Gideon—and grazed the arm of the young man who had sold Echo ice cream and coffee on several occasions. He fell. The crowd swarmed forward.
Echo took one step forward, two, ready to engage the invaders. Like Gideon, she had the ability to produce a ball of energy that would disable any attacker. Before she could even produce a twinkling of energy, that newly identified feeling niggled at the back of her brain.
“No,” s
he whispered, stopping her forward progress. Not now! She needed to fight, to play a part in saving this village that had become her home. An important part. These people were her friends and neighbors; she was a part of the community.
But she couldn’t fight like this, no matter how much she wanted to do just that. She dropped her hand and backed away, moving closer to the pub, realizing she’d be trampled if she stayed in the street. She’d never been able to stop an oncoming vision.
Her knees gave out, and she sat with her back against the pub door. The people of Cloughban—Ryder’s neighbors and friends, her neighbors and friends—defended their home with honor. Shay knew how to swing that club. She was stronger than she looked. Echo saw two of the townspeople go down, then watched as Maeve Quinlan hit one of the men in black over the head with an iron skillet. Brigid had kneeled to tend one of the fallen, the boy who had been shot, and Nevan...Nevan had lightning like Gideon. Echo smiled as the old man began to glow, more green than blue but just as powerful and sparkly...and then she was gone.
* * *
Gideon hit the leader of the Ansara invaders in the center of her chest with a bolt of lightning. Not enough to kill her. Probably not enough to kill her. She flew back and landed hard on the road, hitting the ground with an oomph. Her sunglasses flew off. She stayed down.
Echo was slumped on the sidewalk. Damned bad timing for a vision. At least she’d had the good sense to move out of the way before she’d been incapacitated.
As he fought, he kept one eye on Hope. She’d been through this before, during the final battle between the Raintree and the Ansara. As one of the invaders swung his sword at an elderly man wielding a long stick, Hope took aim and fired. A good shot, she hit what she’d aimed at. The man in black’s shoulder. The old man gave a nod of appreciation in her direction before lifting his stick again and going to the aid of a friend.
Gideon stepped back, out of the midst of the fight. His side was winning; the people defended themselves well. There didn’t have to be a massacre in order for the people of Cloughban to win. This was a magical place, thanks to the nearby stones Echo had told him about. As the old man had warned, bloodshed here would seep into the ground and touch the place with a new and unwanted darkness. The people of Cloughban needed to win, had to win, and it was inevitable that many would be wounded and some might die. But there could be no slaughter here.
Light fed good power; evil fed the dark. He could only imagine how bad it would be for the stones of Cloughban to be touched with evil.
One by one, the invaders went down easily. Wounded, not killed, they fell. A couple of them would recover, stand and fight again, but most just slunk away, edging toward their vehicles.
Watching, no longer participating, Gideon experienced a tickle of warning. The invaders were surrendering much too easily. It occurred to him that they could not have hoped to win. None of them, not one, fought with magic. No fire, no balls of energy, no lightning other than his own and the occasional burst of green lightning from the incredibly ugly old man. As battles went, this one was almost amusing. Almost.
The people who had come here to take this village were not trained fighters. They were dressed for the part, and they were armed, but once they began to fight they got in one another’s way, tripped over their own feet. The people of Cloughban were not much better.
Gideon stepped back; he lifted a hand to call Hope to his side. The villagers were winning handily. They needed no Raintree assistance. Hope began to make her way toward him.
All but two of the invaders were down when Echo struggled to her feet. Unsteady, she leaned against the pub door as she called his name.
She tried to shout at him but her words were garbled and weak.
Gideon turned his back on the fight and stepped in her direction. “What?”
Her voice was louder as she said, “This is just a distraction. He’s going for Cassidy!”
Hope called Gideon’s name, a sharp warning, just as something hit the back of his head. He fell, he heard a gunshot and all went dark.
