That hadn’t been her original intent when she brought Rhiannon to O’Neill. She just wanted to force Corwin to acknowledge his granddaughter. She wanted to bring some reconciliation between the two. She knew how much pain Rhiannon carried from the denial by her father and grandfather. If Brenna was going to be Lady of O’Neill, she planned to bring Rhiannon into the Clan and give her a place of honor. When Corwin acknowledged her, it fulfilled her wildest hopes. And then a wild idea had blossomed inside her. Rhiannon was the rightful heir. Brenna might be able to dodge the responsibility she had no desire to assume.
Her half-formed idea went awry when Corwin grabbed them both. Now she and Rhiannon shared a bond she had never imagined, two millennia of memories and knowledge. And if Brenna was terrified of what that meant, at least she had agreed to it. Rhiannon had been given no choice. But there was even more to it than that.
Worst of all, when Corwin’s mind had flowed into them, their own minds had merged and she had absorbed Rhiannon’s. Everything Rhiannon had ever done, ever felt. She knew every thought, feeling and hope another living being had ever experienced. Each of them knew every pain, fear, and joy of the other. They knew each other’s motivations, insecurities, and hopes.
Even though Brenna and Collin had merged their souls, they didn’t rummage around in each other’s minds. They still had their privacy. Even as close as she and Rebecca were, there were things they didn’t share. What she had done to Rhiannon, and to herself, was almost unfathomable. It was the ultimate breach of privacy. It was a crime so appalling that other telepaths might consider it grounds for a mind wipe.
Finally, her mind cleared. Order was restored. She opened her eyes and saw that it was light outside, a bright sunny day.
*Rebecca?*
*You’re finally awake,* Rebecca answered her.
*I did a bad thing.*
*Yes, you did. I think I know why you did it, but good intentions don’t make it right.*
*I know. I think she’s going to hate me, and I wouldn’t blame her.*
*Ask her yourself. She just woke up, too.*
Brenna reached out and contacted Rhiannon’s mind. It wasn’t difficult. It was like looking in a mirror.
*Rhiannon?*
*You bitch! You forced me! I should slap you silly for that. What the hell were you thinking?*
*I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.*
*Yeah, I know. Hell, I know everything about you. But guess what? You failed. He acknowledged me as his granddaughter, but he didn’t name me his heir. You’re stuck with it.*
*We’re also stuck with each other.*
*Yeah, we are. At least you’re not a monster. I can think of a lot of people I wouldn’t want in my head, but you’re not so bad.*
*You forgive me?*
*Hell, no. I’m going to hold this over you for the rest of your life. You owe me.*
*But you don’t hate me?*
*No, I don’t hate you. I’m hungry.*
A feeling of well-being settled over them, a feeling of warmth, safety and comfort that Brenna had felt before, and a presence entered her and Rhiannon’s minds.
*The triumvirate is complete. The Power and the Shadow I foresaw, but I had not hoped there would be a Pathfinder. Three shall lead my people out of the apocalypse and into a new world. Brenna, Rebecca, Rhiannon. Know that you carry my blessing.*
The presence withdrew.
*Was ... that ...* Rhiannon asked.
*Yes, that was the Goddess,* Brenna answered.
Brenna struggled out of bed and found Rebecca sitting in a chair watching her.
“Pathfinder?” Rebecca asked.
“You heard my conversation with Rhiannon?”
“I didn’t hear that. I heard the Goddess speak to us. I guess She forgives you, even if Rhiannon won’t. Do I need to order her taken to the dungeon so she doesn’t kill you?”
“No, I think we’re okay. But we’re hungry.”
Rebecca chuckled. “I’ll bet you are. You’ve been out for thirty-six hours. I’ll order you breakfast and tell Rhi to come here and have breakfast with you.”
“Thank you. I’m going to take a shower.”
Breakfast and Rhiannon arrived at about the same time. Rebecca served them in a small dining room off Brenna’s bedroom, then left them alone.
~~~
Chapter 4
Yeah, I read history. But it doesn't make you nice. Hitler read history, too. - Joan Rivers
That afternoon Brenna met with those she trusted most, Rhiannon, Rebecca, Jeremy and Thomas O’Neill. They used a private parlor in Corwin’s suite of rooms. While she had been wrestling with Corwin’s memories, Rebecca had flown her protection team in from the States, so Donny Doyle sat in as well.
Jeremy was one of Brenna’s oldest friends in the O’Donnell Clan. At one time, he had been the third-ranked Protector there and head of Brenna’s security team. Thomas O’Neill was Corwin’s nephew. Around a hundred years old, he had been the security chief for the past twenty years and, according to Jeremy, was well respected.
“Corwin’s death has not been announced,” Thomas said. “We wanted to wait until you were conscious. Other than those in this room, only Hugh, the healer, and Daria, Corwin’s companion, know.”
“We should announce it tonight,” Brenna said. “I’m sure there are rumors already, and we can’t keep a lid on something like this very long.”
“Fergus and Seamus have been informed,” Rebecca said. “Seamus has five hundred Protectors flying into Belfast tonight. They’ll arrive here sometime before dawn.”
“Where’s Finnian?” Brenna asked.
“In Scotland, as far as we know,” Jeremy answered. “He has a fair amount of support there.”
“How is Hugh taking this?” Rebecca asked.
“He seems to be fine. I think he’s been waiting for his father to die for a long time. He went hunting today,” Thomas said.
“Thomas,” Brenna said, “I want you to stay on as security chief here.”
The older man nodded, and Brenna saw his shoulders relax a bit.
“Jeremy is going to assume the position as my steward, with complete authority to speak in my name. You’ll report to him. I just can’t be here all the time, and the situation at O’Byrne is going to be problematic once they hear I’ve taken control here.”
Brenna regarded Thomas, reading his aura. “I can’t put someone in your position without trusting him,” she began. “There is a lot about me that you don’t know. I’ll have Collin contact you and transmit my profile to you.” Thomas nodded again. “But there are things you need to know now, things that we have kept secret. Perhaps Corwin told you some of them, but in case he hasn’t ...” Her voice trailed off.
“Brenna has twenty-seven Gifts,” Rebecca said. Thomas’s head jerked toward her, and he stared, his mouth hanging open.
“Yes,” Rebecca said, “there are more than twenty-five. We’ve identified twenty-eight in total. Goddess knows what else she has up her sleeve to surprise us.”
“The one that’s pertinent to this discussion,” Brenna said, “is one we’ve dubbed the Truthsayer Gift. I’m not sure what all of its manifestations are, but I see auras. It seems those auras are true reflections of the person’s soul. I can also see how many Gifts a person has, and what they are.”
She leaned forward and looked directly into Thomas’s eyes. “We know how many Gifts Corwin and Hugh told us that Hugh has, and we have a DNA sample that he gave Callie for her database. Neither of those things matches what I see when I look at him. I see twelve Gifts, including the O’Neill Gift, the O’Byrne and the Krasevec. Are you aware of that?”
Thomas chewed the inside of his cheek, then sat back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling.
After a minute, he looked back at her. “No, I wasn’t aware. I’m sure Corwin was. Hell, how can a parent not know what Gifts their child has? Hugh and I are near the same age, but I was away when he hit puberty. I
was always under the impression he only had seven.”
“I also see a soul that shows signs of deviousness, as though he’s living a lie,” Brenna continued. “And I know he’s committed murder. I don’t think what people see is really who Hugh is. I don’t trust him.”
Thomas glanced around, realizing that everyone was watching him. He took a deep breath.
“All right, I’ve always suspected that Hugh didn’t show the world who, or what, he really is. For one thing, he can control Finnian when he wants to, but he rarely wants to. Sometimes I think his leniency is covering another agenda. But hell, he was the heir. It’s not my job to question Corwin or his son.”
“It is now,” Brenna said.
Thomas nodded. “I guess it is.” He was silent a moment, his eyes unfocused. “All right. I’ll put five men I know I can trust to watching him.”
~~~
Wearing an evening dress in O’Neill colors, Brenna followed half of her security team through the halls of the O’Neill manor house while the other half followed her. Built in the eighteenth century, over a hundred years before the O’Donnell manor in West Virginia, it was a fortified stone building in an older tradition. Not quite a castle, which would have been frowned upon by the English conquerors, it nonetheless could withstand quite a siege.
The quarried stone walls and floors seemed to press against her, their physical weight heightened by the weight of their years. The place was a maze, and Rebecca had taken the maps given to her by Thomas and assigned a team to verify them. That included the hidden passages and doorways, along with the tunnels and dungeons under the house.
It didn’t matter. Corwin’s grandfather had built the house, and Brenna knew the place as well as she knew her own bedroom in West Virginia. She looked down a cross passage and remembered that was where Conan O’Neill had seduced a serving wench, and where Dolan O’Conner had tripped and skinned his knee when he was seven years old.
She would be expected to move into Corwin’s rooms. A third world village would probably consider the suite comfortably roomy. Her college dorm room was smaller than any of the closets.
Her entourage trooped down a staircase wide enough to draw lane stripes on. Portraits of old men dressed in old-fashioned clothes watched her pass. She assumed that Rebecca knew who they all were, and when they lived. They continued through a series of large rooms, decorated for a movie set in the nineteenth century, with more people on the walls watching her. Only in the main parlor, the one presided over by Delilah O’Neill, were the portraits on the walls of women. She determined to ask Rebecca who they were.
Eventually, she was shown into a large banquet hall for entertaining two or three hundred of her closest friends. Hugh O’Neill was awaiting her.
“Are you ready for this, lassie?” he asked.
“I think so,” Brenna said. “You’ll have to be more formal with me in public after this, you know.”
“Aye, I’ll be the picture of propriety,” he chuckled. There was a glint in his eye that made her uneasy.
When Brenna looked at Hugh, nothing stayed stable. His aura was alive, streaks of color shooting through it. Hugh was nervous, but the streaks changed color. She’d never seen anyone with an aura that looked anything like it.
He held out his arm and she took it. They walked out into the grand ballroom, and he escorted her to the low stage at the front. The room was packed. A microphone was hooked to speakers outside in the large quadrangle where even more people waited. It was also hooked to communication lines leading to all of O’Neill’s facilities across Northern Ireland, Scotland, and their trade office in Paris.
Hugh left her on the stage and stepped off to the side. She looked out on the faces before her, and realized that she knew all of them. Corwin’s memories in her mind told her who each of them were. She knew details about their lives. She might be a stranger to them, but to her they felt like family.
“Corwin, Lord O’Neill, is dead,” she announced. “He has passed and the mantle of Clan Chief, confirmed by the Council, has passed to me. I am Brenna Aoife O’Donnell, daughter of Jack Brian O’Donnell and Maureen O’Neill O’Byrne O’Donnell, grandniece of Corwin and granddaughter of Caylin Mairead O’Neill O’Byrne. I claim the high seat of O’Neill.”
Hugh, Thomas, and a number of others knelt. Like a wave, those behind them knelt, until almost everyone was kneeling.
*What the hell?* Brenna sent to Thomas.
*It’s traditional. Remember, it’s been a hundred fifty years since this has happened here. Just go with the flow.*
An old woman who did not kneel attracted Brenna’s attention.
“Donegal whore!” the woman shouted. “I’ll be damned if I kneel to an O’Donnell!”
A ball of fire flamed in her hand and she threw it at Brenna. It only traveled about two feet before it hit an air shield and splashed throughout the tight bubble that encased her. The flames engulfed her, and she screamed a hideous, tortured scream. Everyone stared at her in horror as her blackened corpse slumped.
*Good God! Wasn’t there another way to stop her?* Brenna sent to Rebecca.
*Wasn’t me. That was Rhiannon.*
Brenna looked at the copper-headed woman. Dressed in blue jeans and a sweater, Rhiannon leaned against the wall halfway to the back of the hall. Her arms crossed under her breasts and her legs crossed at the ankles, she looked as though she was bored and about to fall asleep.
*Any other way of stopping it would have splashed it across the hall,* Rhiannon sent. *Too many people in here, too many innocents. I’m good, but not good enough to catch a fireball in mid-air. I constructed the air shield around her before she created it.*
“Butcher!” a man shouted from the back of the room. The hall started to devolve into chaos.
Shaken, Brenna shouted, “That wasn’t me! Our Protectors are here not just to protect me. They protect all of you. They protect the Clan. They couldn’t let someone loose a fireball in a room with innocents.” As the room quieted, she looked down at a young boy kneeling in front of her, his eyes wide. She allowed her voice to drop to a normal volume. “They couldn’t allow a fireball loose in a room with children.”
And then a ripple of movement from the back of the room became two lines of women dressed in white robes. They walked toward her on each side of the hall, making their way to the front. People melted away in front of them. The line on Brenna’s right was led by Morrighan. Brenna realized that all the women walking toward the front were Druids.
Morrighan and the other women formed a half circle at the front of the room, standing in front of Brenna, and turned to face the hall. All of them had their Glamor turned up full, to that Goddess-like glow the Druids used when they presided over the Clans’ holy rituals.
Morrighan raised her arms into the air.
“Hear me, Clans of Ireland! This woman is the blessed of the Goddess! The Druids declare their support for Brenna O’Donnell and support her claim to the Seats of the Irish Clans. Once, the Tuatha de Danaan were one people. Under Lady Brenna, we shall be one people again. Hear me, Clans of Ireland! The Druids bless this woman’s claim!”
*What the hell?* Brenna sent to Rebecca and Rhiannon.
*Is that the only question you’re capable of asking this evening? Didn’t you know?* Rhiannon sent back. *Morrighan is the High Priestess, the head Druid. Don’t you Americans know anything? Brenna, reach into Corwin’s memories.*
Brenna looked for Morrighan in Corwin’s memories. The woman she found there was nothing like the fun-loving succubus that Brenna knew. A flash of her own memory surfaced. Morrighan conducting the ceremonies of Beltane at the O’Byrne estate.
*That’s a helluva lot of firepower standing in front of you.* Rebecca sent.
Brenna counted twenty-seven Druids standing there. Rebecca was right. It was enough firepower to take out a Roman legion.
~~~
It was more than an hour later when Brenna was able to break free. People wanted to talk to her. Some s
eemed only to want to touch her. Parents brought their children to meet her. Surrounded by Druids, she made her way out to the quadrangle, and the scene inside was duplicated for another hour and a half. Brenna had never been comfortable in crowds and at times, she felt as though she was on the verge of being crushed.
Not everyone was welcoming, and using Corwin’s memories, she was able to match the negative auras with identities. She marked those whose auras showed the most hostility and sent their names to Rebecca, Jeremy and Thomas.
But finally, tired and emotionally drained, she and her security team made their way through the manor back to the room she shared with Rebecca. Over the following week, she would be working with the household staff to convert Corwin’s suite to her own. But for tonight, she wanted only the room she had always occupied at the O’Neill manor and a bed that felt somewhat familiar.
“What are you doing here?” Brenna asked Morrighan.
“When Rebecca contacted us and told us Corwin had died, I started contacting Druids across Ireland. I knew things up here might get nasty. We still have influence in this country, and I hoped we’d be able to calm things. We couldn’t all come, but I think we had enough here to make an impression.”
“You were certainly a welcome sight,” Brenna said. “Thank you.”
Reaching the room, one of her Protectors opened the door and stood aside so she could enter. She was startled when Rhiannon jumped in front of her.
“Has this room been vetted since she was last here?” Rhiannon asked.
“No,” Donny said. “It should be all right. We were here just a couple of hours ago.”
“Did you leave a guard here?” Rhiannon pressed.
“No, we didn’t.” He shot Brenna a guilty look. “You’re right.” Donny waved toward the door, and three Protectors swept into the room, electronic scans in their hands. A couple of minutes later, an O’Neill Protector came down the hall with a dog, and they also entered the room.
Succubus Ascendant: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 4) Page 4