Succubus Ascendant: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 4) (2 page)

Rebecca cocked her head. “I don’t hear love in there anywhere.”

“No, not love,” Rhiannon said, shaking her head. “I think he would like the relationship to go farther, but I’m afraid he’s more enamored with the package than the contents.”

“You’re incredibly beautiful,” Rebecca said.

“Thank you,” Rhiannon said, twirling her glass in her hand and staring into it. “You know, sometimes I wonder what it would be like to date a blind man.”

~~~

Irina was enjoying the husky Russian who was driving her toward orgasm when the bathroom door opened and two more men stepped into the room. They looked very determined and her Empathy picked up malice radiating from them.

*Brenna!*
she shrieked, sending an image of the unfolding scene.

In a room on another floor of the hotel where the group was hunting, Brenna pushed at the man who was making love to her. “I have to go. Get off.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” he answered her in confusion.

She pushed him off using her Telekinesis. Jumping out of bed, she started grabbing her clothes off the floor.

*Rebecca, Irina’s in trouble,*
she sent the image from Irina to her sister.

Rebecca answered immediately. *
Wait. Don’t you jump in there. I don’t need both of you in with a bunch of thugs.*

Realizing Rebecca was right, Brenna sent a spear to Irina. *
Where are your clothes? Look at them.*

*What? Brenna, these guys are trying to kidnap me. They have me wrapped in an air shield.*

*Do you want me to teleport you nude?*

*Oh.*
Irina tore her eyes from the men surrounding her and located her clothes. As soon as she did, the world shifted abruptly, and she found herself lying on the floor of a different room. Her clothing was lying around her, except for one shoe.

“Are you okay?” Brenna asked, leaning over her.

“What the hell?” a male voice said from the other side of the room. Irina turned to see a naked man standing near the foot of the bed.

Brenna shot him a look, then took control of his mind. He walked to the bed, lay down and went to sleep.

Both women began to dress. *
I have her
,* Brenna sent to Rebecca.

*I figured. Her Protectors are engaged with the men who tried to snatch her
,* Rebecca answered.

*Engaged?*

*Yeah. They came boiling out of that room, and our guys were waiting for them. Watch yourself. They have guns. This is a mess. We’ve identified at least a dozen Russian telepaths in this hotel. I’ve notified Collin that we have a situation here.*

“Who in Russia did you piss off?” Brenna asked, pulling her boots on.

Irina’s reaction was unexpected. She seemed to be handling things well enough, but at Brenna’s question, she froze. Her eyes grew big and she stared at Brenna. “Russia?” She stopped what she was doing and stood in the middle of the room, staring off into space.

“What is Rebecca telling you?” Irina finally said.

“She said there are at least a dozen Russian telepaths inside this hotel,” Brenna told her.

“My mom,” Irina said. “I wonder if this has something to do with her. That’s the only thing I can think of besides going to that restaurant.” She shook her head. “And that doesn’t make sense. There were plenty of beautiful women at the restaurant. Russia exports whores, it doesn’t import them.”

“Well, we can worry about it later. Ready to go?” Brenna wondered again about Irina’s mysterious mother. But Irina was correct about the other part. Brenna had done extensive research into the slave trade. The fall of communism had opened the door for thousands of beautiful women to flee depressed economic conditions in Eastern Europe. Many of them ended up being sold into forced prostitution.

Irina looked at her one shoe, then with a wry expression pitched it at the rubbish bin in the corner. “Yeah, I’m ready,” she said.

Brenna sent a spear to her Protectors, and they came through the door.

“Let’s go, ladies,” Donny Doyle said. “This place is getting a little hot.”

They stepped out into the hall and discovered Rebecca and Rhiannon with pistols in their hands. Morrighan stood to the side surrounded by four Protectors who Brenna didn’t recognize.

“Where do you hide a gun in that outfit?” Irina asked Rhiannon.

“I’d think that was obvious,” the redhead said. “I want to know where Rebecca hides hers.”

“If you were male, I’d show you,” Rebecca said with a smirk. “Everyone ready? Let’s go.”

Three Protectors opened the door to the stairwell and dived into it. Everyone waited for clearance to follow. Instead, a gunshot exploded and echoed from below, followed by a scream.

Donny shook his head, pursing his lips in displeasure. “I’m sure no one heard that on all twenty-five floors.”

A spear thought came to the party from one of the Protectors in the stairwell, and Rebecca cautiously headed down the stairs. The rest followed her. Three floors down, they saw blood smeared on the landing, but no body was evident. All three O’Donnell Protectors looked okay. A Protector held the door open, and they followed him. Checking both ways, Brenna saw another man waving to them from the stairway door at the other end of the hall. Everyone hurried to him and again the party began to descend.

Brenna hesitated and glanced back at Donny and two other Protectors standing near the door from which they had emerged. The door opened and a man stepped through. Immediately, he staggered back. One of the Protectors stepped toward him and kicked him in the head. Brenna sent a spear of mental force toward him, and he screamed as she shattered his shields and captured his mind.

*I have him, Donny. Bring him along,*
she sent. She saw the Protectors grab the man and hustle him toward her, while Donny covered them. It took some time, but cautiously the party worked their way down to the lobby.

“Collin says to hang out here until he can clear the outside,” Rebecca said in a low voice.

“Perhaps we can get a drink while we wait,” Morrighan said gaily, nodding toward the lounge.

At Rebecca’s furrowed brow, Morrighan’s Protector lowered his voice and said, “There’s no back door to the bar. It would be easy to defend.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Rhiannon said. “Rebecca and I left our drinks when you got in trouble, and at seven quid a piece, I’d like to finish mine.”

Rebecca nodded and the women went in and sat down at a booth. Looking out into the lobby, they saw a swirl of activity. Hotel security was scurrying around and so were others, including two police officers.

Looking at Brenna’s captive, Rebecca asked, “What’s going on?”

Brenna took a deep breath. “There are fifteen of them all together, some outside. They’re only interested in Irina, and they have orders not to hurt her.”

Irina sucked on her lip and nodded. “Who sent them?” she said soberly.

Shrugging, Brenna said, “A man named Sergei Gorbachev. He evidently thinks he’s your grandfather.”

Irina took the news without changing her expression. “My mother’s maiden name is Natalia Sergeyevna Gorbacheva. In Russia, the second name is a patronymic and for a woman the surname is feminized.”

“I thought you didn’t know anything about your mother’s family,” Rebecca said.

“I don’t, but I know her name,” Irina said. “I know she and my dad came to the U.S. running from someone.” She glanced at Brenna. *
May I come in?*
she asked. Sliding through Brenna’s mind into that of their captive, she sat staring at him for a few minutes. “I think I need to go home and see my parents when we get back to the States,” she finally said.

Collin walked into the lounge. Behind him, Protectors filled the lobby.

“Can’t you go anywhere without getting in trouble?” he asked. “Come on, let’s go.”

~~~

Chapter 2

No man will ever put his hand up a woman’s skirt looking for a library card. – Joan Rivers (commenting on men being attracted to intelligence)

When Irina returned to the States, the first thing she did was call her mother and tell her she was coming home for a visit. Two vans full of Protectors—along with Collin, Brenna, and Rebecca—accompanied her to Ohio.

Irina had been home only twice since discovering the Clan, but she called her parents weekly. She hadn’t told them about the Clan, and they still thought she had taken a job with a normal company in New York.

Thirty miles north of Columbus, she directed Collin to pull off on a dirt side-road and asked that the Protectors stay behind. They drove around a bend and past a large copse of trees to where a modest ranch-style house stood. Collin pulled the car next to an SUV and a compact sedan parked on the side of the house.

A short blonde woman looking to be in her late thirties stepped out on the porch and walked toward them. Even from a distance, it was obvious she was a succubus. Irina flew into her arms. They hugged, babbling in Russian and kissing each other’s faces. Then Irina broke away and turned to her friends.

“Mama, this is Collin,” Irina said, “and Brenna and Rebecca. This is my mother, Natalia Moore.”

Natalia ushered them into the house, past an older man with graying hair. In the living room, Irina introduced them to her father, Martin Moore. In spite of living in the U.S. for twenty years, Martin still had an English accent. He glanced at his wife, meeting her eyes.

As Natalia served tea and biscuits, she eyed her daughter’s friends.

“You’ve been keeping things from us, Irisha,” Natalia said, using the Russian affectionate name for her daughter. “Your friends are telepaths.” Her voice was melodic and soft, and a strong Russian accent still flavored her speech.

“Yes,” Irina said, “and you’ve kept some things from me. I have a lot of news. I’m actually working for a telepath-owned business and I met your mother’s twin sister in Ireland. If you don’t mind us staying for a couple of days, I’ll fill you in on all of it. But the major thing I need to know is, who is Sergei Gorbachev and why did he try to kidnap me?”

Natalia’s eyes widened and she gasped. She stared at her daughter for a few moments, then shot a look at her husband. Martin shuffled his feet and turned to his daughter’s friends.

“Why don’t I show you around the place?” he said, motioning toward the back of the house. Brenna and Rebecca looked to Irina, who nodded. Irina’s friends stood and trooped out after her father.

“Mama, I know that Daddy isn’t my real father,” Irina said softly when she and Natalia were alone. 

Natalia took a deep shuddering breath. Biting her lip, she looked out the window, then turned to her daughter. “Sergei Gorbachev is my father, and yours,” she said.

Irina thought she was ready for almost anything, but that statement was completely unexpected. Numbly, she stared at her mother.

“I hoped I’d never have to tell you that,” Natalia said. She turned from her daughter and stared out the window again. “Where should I start?” she finally said. “My mother was in Moscow and met a man there, a telepath. She got pregnant with me and was trapped there when the Nazis invaded Russia. My father was a high-ranking member of Stalin’s NKVD, a very cruel man. In the chaos at the end of the war, she escaped him by hiding with a group of Jewish refugees going to Palestine. She left one war zone for another.”

Natalia stood and paced the room. “As I told you, she was killed in the bombing of the King David Hotel in Jerusalem in 1946. It was the headquarters of the British forces occupying Palestine, and Zionist terrorists blew up the hotel. My mother had gone there for an assignation with a British officer. I was only six, almost seven, at the time.”

She pushed her hair back and walked to the window, looking out at her husband and Irina’s friends in the back yard. “The woman who was taking care of me didn’t know what to do with me. She took me to the Russian embassy. In time, my father came and took me back to Moscow.”

“I know the Gorbachev Clan is one of the most powerful telepathic Clans in Russia,” Irina said. “I’ve learned a lot about telepaths since I left home. I had pretty much figured a lot of this out. As I said, I met your aunt, grandmother’s twin sister, in Ireland. She told me about grandmother, and she gave me these.” Irina walked over to her mother and handed her several old black and white photographs. Natalia took them, shuffled through them, and then started crying.

Irina put her hand on Natalia’s shoulder, awkwardly patting her. Among the photographs was one taken the day Mairead O’Conner left Donegal to explore Europe. That was the one Natalia held in front of her.

“I never had any pictures of her. I haven’t seen her face since that day when she left me,” Natalia said.

Irina handed her a handkerchief and led her back to their seats in the living room. She waited for her mother to regain her composure, then asked, “How did it happen?”

Natalia, still staring at the picture in her hand, said, “He came to my bed the first time on my sixteenth birthday. I was a virgin and didn’t understand what was happening. When he passed out, two of his men came into the room and took him away. After that, he sent me to many men through the years. Some were men he wanted to reward; some were men he wanted to use or harm. One of the women in his Clan taught me how to control my ovulation and how to use my telepathic talents. Then, when I grew older, he became cruel. He told me that I wasn’t desirable anymore.”