Succubus Ascendant: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 4) (17 page)

Rhiannon felt her emotions hit a slow boil as he turned and sauntered out the door. But she found herself distracted by his ass.
Shit, RB, he’s right. Get your act together.

A large conference room had maps of Russia and St. Petersburg on two of the walls. A third wall was covered with a white board. Rhiannon met with Vladimir, Andrei, Spencer and Mikhail, O’Donnell’s Kiev team lead, to attempt to work out a strategy for finding Irina. Spencer provided a quick briefing on Romanov properties and interests, colored pins marking their locations.

Then Andrei provided a high-level overview of the relations between the Romanov and Gorbachev Clans, and shared the intelligence profiles O’Donnell had built on Alexander Romanov and his children.

Alexander Romanov was the Clan Chief. He had three sons and a daughter, who intelligence had identified as the strongest and smartest of the lot. His oldest son, Viktor, was the named heir, but he was generally considered the weakest of the candidates to succeed his father.

“The old man’s dying,” Andrei finished. “He hasn’t been in good health for years, and the bickering between his kids has been building the whole time. As I was telling RB, there are very few truly strong telepaths in the Clan. The Silent War decimated their strength. Alexander has seven Gifts, and the strongest of his sons, Alexander, has seven. Viktor, the heir, only has five. And I would be ashamed if any of my kids were that stupid.”

“What about the daughter?” RB asked.

“She’s another story,” Andrei said, running his hand through his hair. “Twelve Gifts, including the air, fire, water trine. No Rivera, no Krasevec, no Rare Gifts. She also got all the brains in the family, Goddess knows where. Her mother was a party-minded shopaholic. My wife speculated once that the mother was screwing around when Galina was conceived.”

“Your wife is Romanov, isn’t she?” Vladimir asked laconically.

“She was. She married into O’Donnell fifty-five years ago,” Andrei said, a dangerous glint in his eye.

Vladimir smiled. “Not casting aspersions, old man, simply providing some context and credibility for those who don’t know Yelena.” He turned toward RB. “Yelena is Alexander’s great-niece. As I’m sure you know, the women’s gossip network often produces more credible intelligence than all the time and money us men spend attempting to justify our existence.”

Andrei chuckled. “You have that right. Yelena’s sister is married to a guy who is one of the Romanov insiders. An accountant. Under-appreciated and under-compensated.” He shrugged. “You know how it is. In Russia, you marry a girl and you marry her family. I’d never hear the end of it if I didn’t help the poor guy out occasionally. And his information is always rock solid. As to the gossip, I never discount anything my wife tells me. It wouldn’t be healthy.”

Looking at the map of St. Petersburg, Vladimir said, “So, we have the manpower to put all those locations under surveillance, but how are we going to know if this girl is inside one of them?”

“I spoke with Thomas earlier today, and he’s sending a plane load of equipment that will arrive in the morning,” RB said. “The latest laser and parabolic microphones, tiny wireless bugs that can be attached to clothing or under a table, equipment for cell phone monitoring, that sort of thing. He’s also sending a dozen technicians to set it all up and train your people to use it. The techs don’t speak Russian, so this is an in-and-out for them. And we can repurpose the equipment when we move from this operation on to Gorbachev.”

Vladimir stared at her. “Thomas?”

“Yes, Thomas O’Neill.”

“Hell. How did you do that? I’ve been trying to get new equipment for the past two years,” Vladimir said.

She smiled at him. “I just batted my eyelashes. Try it. Maybe you’re his type.”

“Bullshit.”

Spencer turned to him, a puzzled look on his face, and said, “She’s the heir.”

“Huh?” Vladimir stared at him, then turned to RB. “The heir to what?”

“Are you sure you’re in the right profession?” RB asked with a smirk. “Are you so far out in the hinterlands that you don’t know what’s going on at home?”

His eyes grew large. He opened his mouth and shut it. Then tried again. All of the others watched him in amusement. Finally, he said, “Lady O’Neill has named an heir?”

“Over my strident objections, I assure you,” RB said dryly. He continued to stare at her, rapidly blinking his eyes. For some reason, she was finding immense pleasure in his reaction.

Finally, Andrei took pity on him. “Vladimir, she’s Hugh’s daughter. Corwin’s granddaughter and Brenna’s cousin. I thought you knew.”

“Didn’t you hear about the operation at Ayr?” Spencer asked. “Hell, I’m not even a member of O’Neill and I heard about it. The operation that broke Hugh’s rebellion?”

“I heard something about a massacre,” Vladimir said. “I didn’t pay too much attention to the details. I just made a note to myself to stay the hell away from Ulster and not to do anything to get on Brenna O’Donnell’s bad side.”

RB felt her face heat. To hear someone actually come out and call what she had done at Ayr a massacre triggered even more guilt than she already felt. “Brenna wasn’t there,” she said. “She didn’t order that. No one did. It just sort of happened.”

Vladimir looked at her incredulously. “It just sort of happened? As to your question earlier, yes, I do pay attention to things outside of Finland and Russia. I was told that over three hundred rebels were slaughtered without mercy. They weren’t even given an opportunity to surrender. How does something like that just sort of happen?”

Biting her lip, she looked down at her lap. The room was dead silent. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Andrei looking at her, waiting for her response. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and looked directly at Vladimir.

“I hated Hugh O’Neill. The bastard shamed me and treated me like crap. He refused to acknowledge me, and lied to Corwin that I wasn’t his daughter. He denied me my birthright. He treated my mother like a whore.”

She took another breath, looking around at the other men. “There were heavy machine guns and light artillery defending his position at Ayr. They were dug in, and it was pretty obvious that we were going to take casualties. As to an opportunity to surrender, that they were given. Their response was to commence firing. I broke down one of Hugh’s men and discovered Hugh wasn’t even there. He’d gone to Belfast to meet with Finnian to wreak more havoc on perfectly innocent people. And I lost my temper. I swore that no more loyal clansmen would die because of my fucked up father. So I ended the battle.”

“I don’t understand,” Vladimir said.

“I killed them all.”

“Three hundred men?” Vladimir’s face turned pale.

“From three hundred yards away,” Andrei said. “Collin told me the story when he briefed me for this mission.”

Vladimir turned to him, searching his face. Turning back to RB, he said, “You lost your temper?”

“Yeah. And when we find the cute little succubus we’re searching for, tread lightly. She’s got a hell of a lot worse temper than I do.”

~~~

After three days of discreet searching, they had turned up no sign of Irina. Rhiannon was increasingly frustrated and called a meeting with all the team leads.

“We’re not getting anywhere with our current approach,” she told them. “I think we need to ramp things up a bit.”

“What do you have in mind?” O’Conner asked.

“Start identifying mid-level leaders of Romanov teams and rousting them. Someone knows something.”

“Not a good idea to get Romanov stirred up,” he said. “They have at least three thousand bully boys in this city and we have three hundred. One-on-one we may be stronger, but you see how they fight. We’ll be going up against people who have no compunction in using submachine guns in public.” As the head of O’Neill’s security force in Finland, he had more than two decades of experience operating in Russia. Even O’Donnell’s Protectors tended to defer to him.

“Vladimir’s right,” Andrei said. Rhiannon knew Andrei had twelve Gifts, including Distance Communication. He very well might be the strongest telepath, other than her, in the city.

“What we have picked up,” he continued, “is that there are some deep divisions within Romanov at the moment. One of my men confirmed the rumor that Alexander Romanov is severely ill, possibly dying. If that’s true, then the jockeying for position among his sons may be the reason the city feels so unsettled.”

“If that’s the case, then we can probably narrow our efforts to the succession candidates. Let’s concentrate on discovering which faction is most likely to have kidnapped her,” Rhiannon said.

“Why would any of them kidnap her?” Andrei asked. “Even if they knew who she was, what would taking her have to do with the succession?”

“Perhaps they see her as a bargaining chip,” Rhiannon answered. “They may not know why Gorbachev wants her or her relationship with him. They might offer to trade her to Gorbachev for help in backing their succession bid. Or possibly use her as a hostage to keep him out of the succession, to keep him from backing another candidate.”

“That’s pretty wild speculation,” Andrei said.

Vladimir shook his head. “Actually, that makes a lot of sense.” He cocked his head and looked at Rhiannon in a way that made her think he was really seeing her for the first time as more than a pretty girl. “That makes a hell of a lot of sense. It would be in Gorbachev’s interest to see the weakest candidate take over. Viktor could have kidnapped her to ensure Gorbachev backs him or one of the others may be trying to use her to keep Sergei on the sidelines.”

“That still doesn’t explain how they knew who she was,” Andrei said. “Hell, it could be that Gorbachev paid Romanov to snatch her. She might have already been moved to Moscow or even south.”

Rhiannon looked around the room, her eyes settling on Spencer, the O’Donnell Healer who was the surviving senior Protector from the St. Petersburg team.

“There are only three possibilities,” she said. “Either someone who recognized her from London tipped off Romanov, Sergei paid Romanov, or there’s a mole inside O’Donnell’s team. Anyone want to convince me the last option isn’t true?” She looked at Spencer.

“I’ll open my shields to a superior from O’Donnell,” he said, “but not to you. No offense, ma’am, but you’re not Clan.”

Rhiannon nodded and looked at Andrei.

“Spencer, gather your team in the dining room,” Andrei said. Spencer stood and left the room. “Do you trust me?” Andrei stiffly asked Rhiannon.

“I’m not going to insult you,” she answered. “I’m sorry about Ivan.” The dead Protector had been Andrei’s nephew. “I don’t mean to insult any of the people on our team,” she continued, “and I don’t think anyone voluntarily betrayed us. I’m simply trying to eliminate any doubts in all of our minds. But I think you should include a construct artist in your interrogation.”

Andrei’s eyes widened. “I’ll do that,” he said. He motioned to the team lead from O’Donnell’s Kiev operations and they left together.

*Lady Brenna told me that I should trust your instincts,*
Vladimir sent on a spear thread. *
I’m starting to see why.*

*I’m only a pretty face with big tits,*
Rhiannon sent back, looking directly into his eyes.
*Anyone who was at Ayr can tell you that.*

He checked his shields. They weren’t leaking. She hadn’t read his mind, but she had obviously picked up on what he was thinking, whether through Empathy, facial expressions or body language. Only a thin ring of green surrounded her pupils. He shuddered, realizing that Irina’s kidnapping had Rhiannon close to the killing edge. This wasn’t just a job for her, it was personal.

Roman’s team checked out. There weren’t any traitors in the group. When Andrei informed Rhiannon, she went to the dining room to talk to the people on that team.

“I apologize,” she told the men and women gathered there. “I hope you understand we had to do this to eliminate any suspicion.”

“It’s okay,” Spencer said. “Once I saw Mikhail, I understood what you were thinking.” The Kiev team lead was a construct artist. “No hard feelings.”

The others nodded. “Scary for us to think someone we trusted might have been compromised,” a woman said. “Better we know.”

“Thank you,” Rhiannon said and turned to leave.

“Katya,” Spencer said, using the familiar variation of her operational name. “I may be the senior person on this team now, but I don’t have any experience leading a team. As a healer, I have to think differently if we get into a scrap. Collin said you’re in charge. I know that you deferred to Roman’s experience, but I’d feel a lot better if you really take charge of this team. We saw you in action when Irina was kidnapped. You know what you’re doing.”

She looked around and saw nods of agreement and heard some soft, “I agree” comments.

“Anyone disagree?” she asked. No one spoke up.

“Shit. I really hate responsibility,” she said.

“Tough,” one woman laughed. “You’re stuck with it, and with us.”

~~~

O’Donnell had a mole inside the Gorbachev Clan in Moscow. Checking with him revealed that, to his knowledge, no one had been contacted about Irina. He hadn’t noticed any unusual activity and even Sergei’s closest lieutenants didn’t show any concern. But he also didn’t know where Sergei was. Two of the Clan Chief’s confidants were also missing. The mole assumed they were at the Black Sea estate.

It was decided that they would start with the weakest of the Romanov non-heirs. Leonid Romanov was the youngest of Alexander’s children and the only child of his second wife. A playboy who didn’t seem to harbor dynastic aspirations, he was not only the least likely suspect, but also the one with the least political power, wealth and protection.

A scouting foray of his estate outside the city provided the intelligence that he was throwing a large party the next day. Tonight, there would be numerous deliveries of food and booze to his home, along with employees of the caterer coming in to prepare. His security force appeared to be about thirty men.

One hundred Protectors positioned themselves outside Leonid’s perimeter. Andrei’s team stopped a delivery truck with a load of vodka and champagne. They captured the driver and the other two men riding with him, blanked their memories, and put them to sleep. Unloading the booze, the team climbed into the back of the truck and Andrei drove on to the compound.

Once they were inside, another truck appeared at the gate. When the guard approached the truck, Rhiannon blasted through his shields and took control of his mind. He turned and waved to his fellow guard to let the truck through. Halfway through the gate, the truck stopped. Rhiannon took control of the second guard as Protectors swarmed out of the back of the truck and spread out around the compound.

The Protectors from the first truck were now in the house, capturing and neutralizing everyone they encountered. Rhiannon heard a few scattered gunshots from inside, then a submachine gun from the front of the house. She saw the flare of light that indicated a fireball, and the gun fell silent.

*
RB, we have them all,*
Andrei sent from the house.

*
Status?*
she sent to her team outside.

*All good. No casualties on our side,*
Spencer sent.

She decided not to inquire about casualties on the Romanov side. Slipping around to the front, she saw a charred spot on the side of the building with an equally charred body lying on the ground. Spencer waved her toward the front door.

“He was a bit uncooperative,” he said, following her eyes toward the dead man.

He led her into the house and up a large staircase. Upstairs, she was ushered into a room where a visibly upset man in his forties, but looking about twenty-five, was pacing the floor, shouting about how his father was going to fry them all.

*
Leonid Romanov, I presume?*
she asked Andrei.

*
In the flesh. He hasn’t offered any resistance.*

*Have you tried his shields?*

*No, we were waiting for you.*

Rhiannon tested Leonid’s shields and he resisted. Taking a deep breath, she assaulted his shields, breaking through to his ninth level and capturing his mind. Gazing on his soul, she found that although he had a few blemishes, it wasn’t as bad as she expected. Several red spots that indicated rape or other types of coercion, a few light brown smudges that were the result of cruelties he’d inflicted, but no black that would be the result of murder.

Ransacking his mind, she found that he really was just a playboy. He had no expectation of becoming Clan Chief, and had done his best to remain neutral in his siblings’ maneuverings. As to Irina, he had no idea she even existed.

“Nothing,” she announced. “Andrei, Spencer, come on in and get whatever knowledge you feel is useful. His father is dying, and he has information on locations, codes, some bank accounts, things like that. But he has no power within the Clan, and he never heard of Irina.”

It was almost morning when they returned to the safe house. Before going to bed, Rhiannon was relaxing in a warm bath when she felt a tickle in her mind. As it grew stronger, she realized that it was her link to Irina. The succubus, wherever she was, was regaining consciousness.

~~~