Brenna was silent for a couple of minutes. “Maybe not everything, but everything that matters. If all you do is loot his bank accounts, you’ll be a billionaire.”
“That’s all fine,” Rhiannon said, “but what do we do now? We’re in a compound, surrounded by hundreds of hostiles. Do we teleport out?”
Brenna turned to Irina with a questioning look on her face.
Taking a deep breath, Irina said, “Let’s see if we can find some clothes. I don’t want to make my first speech to my new Clan naked.”
“We have clothes for Irina back at our car,” Rhiannon said, “but I doubt we have anything that will fit you.”
“I’ll be right back,” Brenna said and disappeared. Less than five minutes later, she reappeared wearing a blue cocktail dress, and holding Rebecca by her hand.
“She caught me dressing and insisted on coming. Don’t ya just hate tagalong older sisters? I keep telling her she needs to develop her own social interests.”
Then Brenna teleported to the limo waiting outside the compound and brought back a dozen Protectors and Irina’s clothes. The young succubus discarded several articles of clothing and quickly dressed in a red evening gown with matching four-inch heels.
“What the hell is going on here?” Rebecca asked. She walked over and looked at Sergei’s body. “Oh. I guess that answers my question. I take it we’re in Russia. Who’s the guy who looks like Lavrentiy Beria?”
~~~
Chapter 19
Think like a queen. A queen is not afraid to fail. Failure is another steppingstone to greatness. - Oprah Winfrey
After climbing to the third floor, Irina opened French doors to a balcony overlooking a lake and the back of the compound. “Can you drop the air shield for a moment while I get their attention?” she asked.
Rhiannon dropped the shield and Irina loosed all the electric energy she’d been holding. A small bolt of lightning shot from her outstretched hand to the ground, lighting the compound with a loud, sizzling crack. Immediately, fifteen air shields enveloped the balcony.
*How many layers of air shield does it take to protect from a nuke?* Rebecca sent to Rhiannon.
*About as many as it takes to protect one short, blonde succubus,* Rhiannon answered with a smile.
The bolt of electricity had its intended affect. Everyone in the compound looked up and then spotted Irina standing on the balcony. Even in the dark, she was hard to miss, the blonde in the red dress with electricity dancing on her hands. To help light the scene, Rebecca and Rhiannon stood at the edges of the balcony with fireballs on their palms.
“My name is Irina Gorbacheva,” Irina shouted, also broadcasting her words telepathically. “My grandfather, Sergei Gorbachev, is dead. I claim the seat of Clan Chief of Clan Gorbachev. Is there anyone who wishes to contest my claim?”
A spray of automatic weapons fire bounced off the air shield. Irina pointed at the two men who had fired and cut them down with Neural Disruption.
“Thank you. Is there anyone else? Come on, don’t be bashful. Let’s get this over with.”
No one in the compound moved.
“Lay down your weapons,” Irina shouted. “All of your weapons, boot knives, ankle guns, everything.” She raised her voice as loud as she could. “I will kill anyone stupid enough to disobey my order. I’ve had a hell of an evening and I’m not in the mood to argue with anyone.”
Most of the men began laying down their arms, but some were being very slow about it.
*Don’t hit anyone, but drop those fireballs to get their attention,* Irina sent to Rebecca and Rhiannon.
Two fireballs arced through the air, one hitting the driveway and setting the asphalt on fire, the other landing in a fountain with spectacular results. Both women immediately created another fireball and stood holding them. The laggards got the message and soon everyone below stood with their hands above their heads.
Brenna had hung back, and noise from the hallway beyond the room they were in attracted her attention. She slapped an air shield over the room’s doorway, then strolled over to look through it. A dozen men stood in the hall, some taking shelter in doorways as she approached.
“You have fifteen seconds to lay down your arms,” she said. “After that, I start killing people.”
She stood looking at her watch. After fifteen seconds, she looked up. Using a tight stream of Neural Disruption, she cut down the man closest to her, aiming at his knees. She shot the next stream at the arm of a man holding a pistol. The hallway erupted with gunfire, bullets bouncing off the air shield. Without flinching, she downed the next man standing with a weapon, then the next. The gunfire ceased and weapons clattered to the floor.
She began draining energy from the men in the hallway until all of them were asleep on the floor, then turned and walked across the room to the balcony. “You’re lucky I’m not Irina,” she muttered to herself. “She probably would have killed you.”
As she passed the Protectors who had followed her, she said, “Keep an air shield around this room. It was rather careless not to cover our backs, don’t you think?”
The man closest to her turned red. “Yes, my lady.”
When she got back to the balcony, some of the men in the compound were opening the gates. O’Donnell and O’Neill Protectors flooded in, rounding up the Gorbachev men.
The confusion finally got sorted out, and things calmed down. The Irish Protectors controlled the compound. Andrei notified Collin that the operation had succeeded, and asked for a thousand Protectors to help with the next phase. With fifteen thousand members, Irina’s control of the Gorbachev Clan was far from complete.
“Jerome,” Brenna said to Andrei as she prepared to leave, “if Seamus or Callie or Collin ever asks, I wasn’t here. Understand?”
“I understand perfectly, my lady,” he answered with a smile. “And thank you for the help you didn’t provide.”
She turned to find Rebecca, and heard Jerome say, “By the way, Brenna, have you had a chance to look at that increase in my budget allocation I requested?”
Slowly, she turned back. His face was a study in innocent expectation. She pursed her lips and studied him. “I think with the changed circumstances in Russia, that request was a bit premature. Rework it for the current reality and get it to me by the end of next week.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he said and bowed.
“My lady, my foot. You old pirate.”
He beamed at her.
She spotted Rebecca talking to Rhiannon and Irina, and walked over. But before she reached them, she saw someone else she decided she should talk to.
Approaching Donald O’Conner, she said, “Mr. O’Conner. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.”
“Lady O’Neill,” O’Conner said, bowing deeply.
“Do you think that you should keep your headquarters in Helsinki, or should we move you to St. Petersburg?”
“Considering the new alliance with Romanov, it probably would make more sense to be in St. Petersburg and make the Helsinki office a satellite,” he said.
“Get me a list of what you need, equipment, facilities, personnel. I’ll probably have Rhiannon supervise O’Neill operations here in Russia, so copy her on everything.”
His eyes bugged out and his mouth hung open. Brenna wasn’t sure why he reacted that way, and looked over his shoulder at Rhiannon, who had heard the exchange.
“Of course, Mr. O’Conner will be ecstatic to report to Ms. Kendrick,” Rhiannon said. “I’m sure it fulfills one of his deepest secret fantasies.”
He whipped around, face red, and stared at her. She smiled at him. “We do work well together, don’t we, Donald?”
“I think there’s something I’m not getting with those two,” Brenna muttered to Rebecca as they prepared to teleport out.
“Irina’s setting up a lottery,” Rebecca said. “She says it’s even money which happens first, either they shag each other or Rhiannon kills him. I put a hundred euros on them shagging.”
/>
“I’ll put a hundred on her killing him,” Brenna said. “Make sure we get a competent second in command for him.”
“Now I’m missing something,” Rebecca said.
“Yes, you are,” Brenna said, thinking of the memories from Rhiannon’s mind concerning Brian O’Byrne.
~~~
Chapter 20
Time is a dressmaker specializing in alterations. - Faith Baldwin
Brenna was in her office in Tyrone when her grandfather, Fergus O’Byrne, contacted her.
*Brenna?*
*Grandfather! How are you?*
*I’m fine, but I have some unhappy news,* Fergus sent. *Your grandmother has had a heart attack.*
*Oh, no! Is she going to be all right?*
*Yes, the doctors say it was mild.*
*Do you want me to come and see her?*
*Yes, but wait a day or two until the doctors say she’s strong enough for company.*
There was a pause.
*Brenna, she needs a softer climate and less stress. Some years ago, I purchased a home in the south of France. As soon as she’s well enough to travel, I’m moving her there.*
In other words, as soon as she was well enough to be teleported. Brenna didn’t think Fergus would subject Caylin to a plane ride.
*I had hoped to put this off a little longer, Brenna, and I’m sorry. I’m going to retire. I haven’t told anyone as yet, but I think I need to announce it soon.*
*I understand, Grandfather.*
Brenna understood, but she wasn’t happy about it, and cursed her fate after her grandfather broke the connection. She contacted her other grandfather.
*Seamus? Caylin had a heart attack.* She went on to give her grandfather all the news. Afterward, she contacted her cousin Jared, who had been living at the O’Byrne estate in Ireland the past three years as her representative and transition coordinator.
While she was communicating with Jared, Rebecca walked into her office. Seeing Brenna staring off into space, Rebecca went to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer, holding it up to catch her sister’s attention. Brenna nodded and Rebecca pulled out a second one.
When Brenna’s focus returned to the room and she took a pull on her beer, Rebecca asked, “What’s up?”
“Caylin’s had a heart attack and Fergus is retiring,” Brenna said. “We’ll be going down there in a day or two. Send your team there to coordinate with Jared.”
Rebecca’s response was a stream of profanity.
“Rebecca, don’t tell anyone. Tell your team that Jared will brief them when they get to Wicklow.”
“Okay. Got it. So, are we moving to Ireland permanently?” Rebecca and her husband Carlos both traveled frequently, but had established a home in Washington. It would be a wrenching disruption if Rebecca moved. Since Brenna was a teleport, she could visit Collin any time she wanted.
“It kind of looks that way. I wish I could stay in Washington, but the next time we go home, we should probably pack for a long stay.”
“Can I tell Carlos?” Rebecca asked.
Brenna nodded. “Of course, but tell him it isn’t official yet, and he can’t tell his family.”
“Thanks. Maybe he can get a transfer to Dublin.”
“Ecuador doesn’t have an embassy in Ireland, only a consulate. The closest embassy is in London,” Brenna said, feeling depressed. She’d checked long before. Carlos was a general in the Ecuadorian army and the Military Attaché at their embassy in Washington. “Maybe de Vargas can set up a trade mission in Dublin. We can trade Ecuadorian wool for Irish wool.”
Rebecca snorted a laugh, then walked over to where Brenna sat behind her desk. Taking her sister in her arms, she gave Brenna a tight hug. “The good thing is that Caylin is going to be okay. We’ll deal with the rest of it.”
~~~
Fergus O’Byrne was a tall, slender man with white hair. He had been Clan Chief since the late 1800s and guided his people through Irish independence, two world wars, and the Silent War between telepaths in the late 1940s and 1950s. The O’Byrne Clan was prosperous and counted over twenty thousand members, controlling most of the Irish Republic, Wales, and had a small contingent of members living in Iceland.
Irish clan structure traced back to antiquity, and with their long lives, telepaths were much closer to their ancient roots than normal humans. Fergus’s grandfather had fought the English conquest as an ally of O’Donnell and O’Neill. The rules of succession followed ancient feudal practices, and Brenna would be only the fourth Clan Chief since 1600.
Lord and Lady O’Byrne had produced three children, including Brenna’s mother, Maureen. All three had died young. Lord O’Byrne had fathered four children with other women, Andrew, Michael, Brian and Morrighan. By tradition, the bastards were unable to inherit unless no one in the direct line was capable. Michael had been the designated heir between the death of Maureen and Brenna’s discovery fifteen years later.
Brenna, Rebecca and Rhiannon teleported into O’Byrne, materializing in the middle of a large throw rug. Looking around, they saw Morrighan standing near the door.
“Welcome to Wicklow,” Brenna’s aunt said. “I wish it were a happier occasion, but it’s still good to see you.” She hugged each of the women. “Lady O’Byrne is expecting you.”
Morrighan led them to Lady O’Byrne’s bedroom. Caylin sat in bed sipping tea, propped up by several pillows. She was pale and looked tired, but she smiled when her granddaughter walked into the room.
Their visit was short, and after being ushered out by Caylin’s nurse, they trooped down to Fergus’s study.
Jared was present, along with Fergus’s sons Michael and Brian, Morrighan, and O’Byrne’s head of security, Devlin O’Conner. Michael was president of O’Byrne Industries, while Brian lived in Paris and worked as head of the O’Byrne trade mission there. Morrighan served as head of O’Byrne’s lobbying unit, keeping an eye on the Irish Parliament.
When Rhiannon walked in and saw Brian, she halted. Frozen, she stood and stared at him.
“Hello, Rhiannon,” Brian said. “It’s good to see you again. You’re looking good.”
“Hello, Brian. I didn’t know you were here.”
Brenna watched the two of them, wondering if she was the only one in the room with operating Empathy. Everyone else seemed to ignore the pain and longing both were sending out in waves.
Fergus called the meeting to order, and for security purposes, the conversation was conducted telepathically.
*You all know why we’re here,* Fergus began. *The healers say that Caylin can travel next week, and I’ve already sent staff to prepare the house in Grimaud. I plan to move her there as soon as possible.*
*When do you plan to announce your plans?* Michael asked.
*Tonight.*
Brenna rocked back in her chair. She turned her head to look at Rebecca, and wondered if her own face was as wide-eyed and pale as her sister’s.
Taking a deep breath, Brenna sent,*I’ve been expecting this for two years, but I can’t say that I’m ready for it.*
*Do we have any idea where Andrew is?* Rebecca asked. Fergus’s oldest son was the major source of everyone’s concern. Andrew was arrogant and abrasive with a bullying sadistic streak. Considered the black sheep of the family, he was hated by his half-brothers and half-sisters. He had clashed with Brenna on her visits to the estate.
*We had word he was in Dublin,* Devlin sent, *but we were unable to locate him. He moves around quite a bit. He’s been in Wales and Scotland. Obviously, he hasn’t been keeping in touch since the bombing. We have an O’Donnell operative planted in his inner circle. Unfortunately, he hasn’t been able to contact us much. Andrew’s been gathering malcontents to him and recruiting non-Clan telepaths. He’s amassed quite an arsenal over the years, and I don’t think he plans on using it to go duck hunting.*
*Where does he get his money?* Brenna asked.
Lord O’Byrne met her eyes. *He has always received a living stipend from me, but that’
s not enough to fund his activities. His mother had money and when she died three years ago, he inherited it. It would be enough for his lifetime if he invested it and lived sensibly, but he’s chosen to go a different way.*
Brenna looked to Jared. *That stipend ends as soon as I take over.*
Jared nodded.
*That won’t be necessary,* Fergus said.*I cut him off the instant he took credit for the bombing. We also froze his accounts in our banks. I know he has money elsewhere, but we can’t control that.*
*How many men can he field?* Rebecca asked.
*He has about a thousand adherents,* Devlin answered.
*We figure that your support among Clan members is about fifty percent,* Jared sent. *Andrew’s support is about ten percent, mostly from those who think they’ll benefit directly if he takes the seat. About twenty-five percent view you unfavorably. About ninety percent view Andrew unfavorably.*
*Sounds like an election opinion poll,* Rebecca chuckled.
*That’s exactly what it is,* Jared sent. *Along with intelligence assessments gathered by my team and Devlin’s. We each run our own intel, then share the results.*
*Andrew lost favor with that bombing,* Devlin sent. *On the other hand, the war in Scotland and the scale of the casualties there have made some people view you with trepidation.*
*So what can we expect from him?* Brenna asked.
*Andrew was fascinated with the IRA,* Michael sent. *The mayhem, the terror, it appealed to him. I think we’re in for some unpleasantness.*
On a spear thread to her sister, Brenna said, *Can we take him out?*
*If that’s what you want to do, we can try. But we need to find him first. Jared can probably hook you up with our operative, but it will probably be his death warrant as well. Is that what you want to do?*
Assassination. Such an ugly word. Brenna wasn’t sure she could give the order, though she knew it was probably the best course of action.
~~~
Lord O’Byrne called all the people living on the estate and in the surrounding villages to a meeting after dinner. The gathering was far too large for the ballroom in the manor house, so they used the large lawn between the house and the barns, where the Beltane and Samhain celebrations were held.
Succubus Ascendant: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 4) Page 21