Broken Dolls: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 3)

by BR Kingsolver

  Brendan slowed, his dress shoes sliding on the path. It was an opportunity to close more ground, but instead I slowed. The path took a sudden drop down next to a large rock.

  Looking down, I saw that Brendan had disappeared. The trail dropped, and a depression next to the rock was full of mud. The wall beyond the mud puddle was broken, and the path took a sharp left turn. I slipped and slid down, careening out of control. As I lurched toward the edge, I latched onto the rock with Telekinesis. The rock had to weigh twenty tons. Even my power wasn’t enough to move it. I jerked back toward the rock.

  Standing on the precipice, I looked over my shoulder. The cliff was almost vertical, and the drop was hundreds of feet. The son of a bitch had tried to lure me into a headlong slide over the side.

  I cast my mind out and found a shielded mind not far from me. I let out as loud a scream as I could, then tailed it off and stopped abruptly. Maybe I could trick him into thinking he’d been successful.

  I’d been shoeless since I got out of the car, and the feet of my pantyhose had worn completely through. Being barefoot turned out to be better. My toes helped to grip in the mud. Rather than continue along the trail, I climbed back up around the rock and took off across the pasture.

  I circled around, tracking O’Driscoll with my mind. He was moving again, but slower. My ruse might have worked. I gradually closed the distance between us.

  The trail ran along the wall, heading south. If the tunnel out of the castle was a smuggler’s entrance, then there eventually had to be a way down to the water. The O’Driscolls were notorious pirates in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. This house was built in the early 1800s, but I wouldn’t bet that they’d completely cleaned up their act. After all, look at Brendan.

  I spotted him and, crouching low, moved closer. When I got into range, I grabbed him using Telekinesis.

  “Tag! You’re it!” I shouted in triumph.

  He struggled, slamming against my shields and shooting flame at me. I fought off all of his attacks. I pushed him back. His legs hit the wall, and he fell over it. I held him in the air, beyond the cliff.

  “Give it up, Brendan. There’s nowhere for you to go. We have the girls, and we have your computer. It’s all over.”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “I’m a private investigator. Lord O’Byrne asked me to find Myrna Kavanagh. I found her, Brendan. Myrna is back at O’Byrne.”

  “You stupid bitch. Myrna Kavanagh is a lying, thieving whore. She’d sell her own mother for a steak dinner.”

  “Yes, I know. I know she was recruiting for you. I know about the scheme the two of you cooked up for large-scale heists. But that doesn’t change what you’ve done. You’ve stolen people’s lives.”

  “So what are you going to do? Turn me over to the Garda?” He laughed.

  “We’re going to wipe your mind, implant a construct, and turn you into a productive member of society. Maybe find you a job as a janitor.”

  He hit my shields with all of his strength. Staggered, I fought back, but the effort caused me to lose control of him, and he dropped out of sight.

  *Fuck you, Kendrick.*

  I couldn’t feel him anymore. I cast my mind out, and the only human minds I could touch were behind me. Picking my way down to the wall, I latched on to it with Telekinesis and leaned out as far as I could. The ocean crashed against the rocks, the moon hung in the sky, and the whole scene looked like a picture postcard. All except for the body of the man on the rocks below.

  ~~~

  Chapter 28

  Rebecca sent a helicopter for me. I thought it was a little silly, but I didn’t argue. I was tired, and the mile or so walk uphill back to the castle wasn’t very appealing.

  I crawled out of the chopper, and Morrighan met me with a pair of house slippers.

  “We have everyone segregated in different rooms,” Rebecca told me. “Lords O’Byrne and O’Donnell are meeting to decide what to do with them, and what to do with O’Driscoll’s holdings. As of this moment, Clan O’Driscoll ceases to exist.”

  She took me to see the girls he’d been holding. The youngest was thirteen and the oldest was just shy of seventeen. Morrighan reported that all were s-gene carriers.

  “They haven’t been prepped for prostitution,” Rebecca said. “None of them have constructs, just compulsions, like the girls we found in Dublin. I don’t think he has anyone with the Lindstrom Gift working for him. He seems to have used the services of Gordon and von Ebersberg for that.”

  “If they are halfs, then who has been boffing them when he’s not here?” I asked. “Morrighan told me they would gradually go crazy if they didn’t rebalance their energies.”

  “O’Driscoll’s son,” Rebecca replied. “He’s seventeen, and Julia says he’s also a carrier.”

  “Men can have the condition also?” I was surprised. Then I remembered Morrighan saying something about it. I tried to remember what she’d said. I hadn’t been paying close attention.

  “Oh, yes. Remember the legend of the incubus? The male equivalent of a succubus. One of the girls is pregnant, and her little girl will be a succubus.” She pointed out a girl of about sixteen. “We think these girls are here to service the son. I’ve been in their minds, and Brendan has never touched them.”

  “O’Driscoll hid his own children, raised them as though the outside world didn’t exist,” Morrighan said. “All the people here dress in nineteenth century clothing styles. Only his guards and some of the servants have any contact with the outside world. There isn’t a television or radio in the place.”

  “We discovered he has a daughter,” Peter continued. “She’s thirty. We’re holding her upstairs. She appears to be in charge when Brendan isn’t here. She’s lived here her whole life. She’s in a daze and doesn’t seem to comprehend what’s happened.”

  “Pretty weird,” Rebecca said, shaking her head. “No one we’ve questioned knows who the mothers of his children are. You’re sure he’s dead?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  ~~~

  The tail end of summer in London is one of my favorite times. The weather is warm and dry about half the time, and even the rainy days aren’t too cold. It was one of those sunny days when I looked out the window, and I resolved to get out and just wander where the whim took me.

  I was drying my hair when there was a knock on the door. Hardly anyone knows where I live, and I wasn’t expecting anyone. I cast my mind out to check who it was, and then ran for the door.

  “Rebecca. What a pleasant surprise. Come in.” I knew I was smiling like a fool, but seeing her had hit me with a jolt of happiness. “Would you like some tea?”

  “As long as you just mean tea. I’ve already had breakfast,” she said. She followed me into the kitchen. “I’m flying home today, but I wanted to drop by and see you before I go. I also have some messages I was asked to deliver.”

  I fixed a pot of tea and set it on the table with some biscuits.

  “The first message is from Seamus O’Donnell,” she said. “If you ever need help, or decide you want a steady job, you have only to ask.”

  “Thank him for me, will you?” It was a nice thing to stick in my back pocket. Who knows what the future might bring?

  She dipped her head in acknowledgement. “The second message is from Nigel Richardson.” She smiled. “He wants to know if he can buy you dinner. I asked why he didn’t ask you himself, and he said you were rather angry with him the last time you talked.”

  I chuckled. “Yes, I was.” I considered. “Rebecca, is that friend of yours, Jared, still in Ireland?”

  “Yes, he’s living at O’Byrne. You know that Brenna has been named heir to O’Byrne, right? Jared is working with O’Byrne to set up an orderly transition. Fergus plans to step down sooner rather than later.”

  “Do you know if Jared’s involved with anyone?”

  She smiled. “I’m not sure. Do you want me to ask him?”

  “Oh, no.” I sudd
enly felt a little embarrassed. “But I think I’d like to get to know him. Maybe I’ll go visit Morrighan.”

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “Why? Is he a player?”

  “No, he’s one of the nicest men you’ll ever meet. But you keep saying you don’t want to join a Clan. A relationship with Jared is a relationship with O’Donnell.”

  “I thought you said his name is Wilkins?”

  “It is. His mother is Callista O’Donnell Wilkins and his grandfather is Seamus O’Donnell. But you could do worse. About ninety-nine percent of the men in the world would be worse.”

  “So why don’t you latch on to him?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “We were lovers briefly. I think we both hoped it would work, but it quickly became apparent that we’re just really good friends. I love him like a brother, but he doesn’t make my heart ache for him.”

  Maybe I would go visit O’Byrne. It would be nice to spend time there when I wasn’t working.

  Nigel. I hadn’t thought of him for a while. “I’ll give Nigel a call,” I finally said. “I really should thank him for his help.”

  She nodded. “The third message is from Brenna,” she said. “She wants to know if you’d consider working full time on shutting down the trafficking trade. She authorized me to start salary negotiations at a half-million dollars a year.”

  I stared at her, and then started laughing. “That’s one hell of a joke. You had me going for a minute.”

  “No joke. Brenna’s serious as a heart attack.”

  “Is this the job offer from Lord O’Donnell?” I asked, my head spinning.

  She shook her head. “Brenna has her own money. Lord O’Donnell would help you to find a job where you’re comfortable, something you want to do. Brenna is more focused. She wants all the traffickers strung up by their balls.”

  I stared through the window for a while. Did I want to do that for a living? Did I want to continue chasing cheating husbands? Did I want to work? I had money for the first time in my life. I didn’t have to make a decision, I could think about it.

  “Let me think about it,” I said.

  “Okay. The last message is from me. Don’t be a stranger. You have an open invitation to come visit me in the States, any time, for as long as you wish to stay. Don’t worry about cost. O’Donnell takes care of our guests.”

  “And you speak for O’Donnell?”

  “I’m part of O’Donnell. Not just the Clan. I may have come to them as a wilder, but they treat me as part of the family. Brenna and I are as close as sisters. And since you’re related to her, they’ll treat you as family also.”

  “I’ve never felt a part of my father’s family,” I said. “They don’t even acknowledge my existence.”

  “But Caylin does, and so does Brenna.”

  It was weird the way she used Lord and Lady O’Byrne’s first names. And Lord O’Donnell’s. The familiarity was jarring. Something tickled the back of my mind.

  “Where did you get the name Delilah?” I asked. “Morrighan said it was my paternal great-grandmother’s name.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “Also Brenna’s great-grandmother. You’ve never been to the O’Neill estate in Tyrone, have you?”

  I shook my head.

  “There’s a life-size portrait of Delilah O’Neill hanging in the main hall. I think it was painted around 1830. When we first saw you, both Brenna and I were stunned. You look exactly like her. It could be your picture on the wall. Morrighan told me the same thing.”

  I shrugged. “That and a pound will get me a cup of coffee. I’ve never received anything from O’Neill and never missed it. The whole bloody Clan can kiss my arse.”

  We chatted a bit more and then she took her leave. I finished drying my hair, braided it, and took off to enjoy the day.

  ###

  Human trafficking is a $40 billion dollar a year business involving millions of victims worldwide. The U.S. and Europe are two of the largest markets for enslaved sex workers. If you want to learn more about human trafficking, or if you are concerned about helping a girl or woman in trouble, contact the Polaris Project.

  http://www.polarisproject.org/

  ~~~~

  If you enjoyed Broken Dolls, we hope you’ll take a few moments to leave a brief review on the site where you purchased your copy to share your experience with other readers. Potential readers depend on comments from people like you to help guide their purchasing decisions. Thank you for your time!

  For more information about BR Kingsolver, The Telepathic Clans, and background on their world, please visit my web site. I’m also on Twitter and Facebook.

  brkingsolver.com

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  Books by BR Kingsolver

  Dark Streets

  Gods and Demons

  Dragon’s Egg

  The Chameleon Assassin Series

  Chameleon Assassin

  Chameleon Uncovered

  Chameleon’s Challenge

  Chameleon’s Death Dance

  The Telepathic Clans Saga

  The Succubus Gift

  Succubus Unleashed

  Broken Dolls

  Succubus Rising

  Succubus Ascendant

  Other books

  I’ll Sing for my Dinner

  Trust

  Short Stories in Anthologies

  Here, Kitty Kitty

  Bellator

  A new series available in December 2016

  Libby is a mutant, one of the top burglars and assassins in the world. For a price, she caters to executives’ secret desires. Eliminate your corporate rival? Deliver a priceless art masterpiece or necklace? Hack into another corporation’s network? Libby’s your girl.

  Climate change met nuclear war, and humanity lost. The corporations stepped in, stripping governments of power. Civilization didn’t end, but it became less civilized.

  There are few rules as corporations jockey for position and control of assets and markets. The corporate elite live in their walled estates and skyscraper apartments while the majority of humanity supplies their luxuries. On the bottom level, the mutants, the poor, and the criminals scramble every day just to survive.

  And now a special excerpt from

  Succubus Rising

  In medieval legend, a 'succubus' (plural succubi; from Latin succubare, "to lie under") is a female demon which comes to men, especially monks, in their dreams to seduce them and have sexual intercourse with them, drawing energy from the men to sustain themselves, often until the point of exhaustion or death. This legend was an explanation for the phenomena of wet dreams and sleep paralysis. – Wikipedia

  Horrified, Brenna stared at the Senator, who unfortunately just stared back. She wanted him to do something more, such as breathe, but he didn’t. He just sat there, pants around his knees in his two thousand dollar leather chair.

  It had been a massive heart attack, and even with her power and skill as a healer there had been nothing she could do except push him off her. He fell back into his chair. She sat on the edge of his desk with her skirt gathered around her waist and gaped at him.

  Things had been going so well …

  ~~~

  Senator Carl Evans was a Midwestern farm-state champion of right wing, family-values politics with a reputation as a womanizer. He had put a hold on the nomination for a federal judgeship in West Virginia, a position Seamus O’Donnell, Brenna’s grandfather and head of the O’Donnell Clan, wanted to fill with his own man. The valley holding the O’Donnell estate was in that particular district, and the man nominated was a telepath who had grown up in the valley. Seamus had paid his college and law school tuition. Evans was unaware of that. He just put the hold in to be contrary and see who would come offering him something to release it.

  The offering was Brenna. She showed up at a committee hearing he attended. Using her powers to don a low Glamour and projecting In
fluence, she smiled shyly at him when he noticed her, then blushed and looked down at her lap. Throughout the rest of the meeting, she used Influence to pull his attention to her.

  As everyone filed out at the end, she hung back and then fell in step with him. She didn’t attempt to speak to him, but brushed his arm with her breast as they walked out into the hall, then strode off with a pronounced sway in her hips.

  The next day at another meeting he attended, she sauntered in swishing her skirt. When she passed him, she dropped her pen. Bending over to pick it up, she read his mind and saw her own ass as he saw it.

  “Is this seat taken?” she asked as she stood, indicating the chair next to him.

  He gave her his best smile and said, “I’m not waiting for anyone.”

  As the meeting progressed, she continued to read his surface thoughts and softly asked him a couple of questions.

  “Very astute questions,” he said afterward. “I was thinking the same things about that testimony.”

  “Some of what she was saying didn’t add up,” Brenna responded. Handing him her card, she said, “I’m Brenna O’Donnell. I’d like the opportunity to speak with you about a judicial appointment. One of our clients has asked us to check into the issue.” She gave him a slight puff of pheromones.

  He glanced from her cleavage to her card and back, then lifted his eyes to her face. Brenna gave him a look of what she hoped was earnest interest while using Empathic Projection to send him a feeling of her lust.

  “Call my office,” he said, his smile growing wider. “I’ll tell my appointment secretary to expect you.”

  She showed up at the appointed early-morning time, and his secretary ushered her into his office. Kicking her Glam up to medium low, she walked closer to his desk and sat in the chair offered her.