Succubus Ascendant: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 4) (28 page)

*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.

Climbing the steps of a large fountain so that he could be seen by the crowd, Fergus used both his voice and telepathic communication to address the crowd.

“The Goddess gives us our Gifts, and blesses us with a wonderful world to live in,” he began. “The seasons bring us new life in the spring, and harvests in autumn. Just as the world has its cycles, so do our lives.”

A murmur began. The members of the Clan had been waiting for this moment since Brenna was named heir.

“I have lived a full and happy life,” Fergus continued. “I have had the great privilege of being addressed as your Lord, and the joy of seeing O’Byrne grow and prosper for almost a century and a half. And now I am entering a new cycle in my life. I am looking forward to simply being Fergus, and no longer Lord O’Byrne.”

He paused, waiting for the crowd to quiet.

“I have had the honor and privilege of leading this Clan since 1875. I am tired. As you all know, my wife is in poor health. It is time for us to step aside and let those who are younger and have more energy do the work.”

He motioned for Brenna to join him atop the wall surrounding the fountain. 

“My granddaughter, Brenna Aoife O’Donnell, shall be taking my place as Clan Chief. I ask you all to show her the loyalty, love and patience you have shown me. She is young, and she will need your help as she grows into the role, but there is no one more qualified. This I believe with every fiber of my being. She is smart, she is strong, she is humble, and she is compassionate. As her other grandfather once told me, anyone who wants to be a Clan Chief is obviously too stupid to understand what the job entails. She has done everything in her power to try to talk me out of this, which tells me she is the proper person for the job.”

Scattered laughter from the crowd.

Fergus stepped down, leaving Brenna standing alone facing her new Clan. She took a deep breath.

“Thank you for welcoming me,” she began. “I don’t remember the first time I lived here in Wicklow. You’ll have to forgive me, but although I was born here, I was only eight months old when I left. I do remember coming back, but then my parents died when I was eight, and it was many years before I came here again. My mother loved it here, and I’m sure my parents planned to raise me partially here and partially in the United States.”

She stopped, her composure slipping. The crowd was silent, and waited for her to continue.

“As I’m sure you know, in a perfect world my mother, Maureen O’Byrne, would be standing here. She was supposed to be the heir, just as my father was supposed to be the heir of O’Donnell. And in that perfect world, I would have another hundred years before I had to grow up.”

She squared her shoulders, her chin jutted out defiantly. “But we don’t live in a perfect world. We have enemies. The Clans have been fighting for survival for thousands of years, and there are dangers all around us. We are a vulnerable minority in a world with billions of norms. We have other Clans who would take our lands and force us to live as their servants. Many of you here remember living under the English yoke. Our enemies have burned us at the stake, slaughtered us in battle, starved us in our homes.”

Looking around, she saw many, especially the older people, nodding.

“Some might think that being Clan Chief means living in a fine manor house and telling people what to do. Having servants and fancy clothes. Anyone who thinks that has never watched or understood Fergus O’Byrne. They have definitely failed to understand Caylin O’Byrne. I know that my place in this Clan is dependent on how well I serve you, protect you, and help you to prosper. The Irish do not suffer tyrants well.”

She turned and held out her hand to Fergus, who took it in his. “My grandfather spent one hundred and forty years doing this job. I’m sure I won’t do it very well at first, definitely not with the grace and understanding that he has. But I promise to do my best to fulfill my duties. I ask you to help me to fulfill them. I ask for your patience, your support, and your counsel. I don’t know all of you. I plan to. Please feel welcome to stop by and have tea. I know that my grandfather never turned any of you away, and I don’t plan to change that. Thank you for welcoming me to Wicklow.”

Brenna took a deep breath, uncertain of how to address the next part. She looked around, seeing people patiently waiting.

“As you know, I recently inherited the O’Neill Clan. There were those who opposed me, opposed Corwin naming me his heir. During the rebellion that followed, we discovered that Hugh O’Neill, Corwin’s son, was the man who killed my grandmother, my father, and my mother. In his efforts to eliminate all opposition, he attempted to kill me, and he did kill his own son, Finnian.”

Looking around, she raised her voice. “War is a terrible thing. It tears families apart. It kills and cripples young people. But we, of all people, should know that there are things worse than war. We fought the Romans. We fought the English. We fought the fascists. I know that some blame me for the war in Northern Ireland and Scotland. I did not start that war. Instead of challenging me in the Clan Council, Hugh tried to assassinate me. He did assassinate three members of the Council. He and his partisans killed thirty-four children, one hundred and twelve non-combatant women, and the brothers, sisters, husbands, wives, fathers and mothers of thousands of loyal Clan members.”

Her voice fell, but her telepathic voice remained strong. “I have ordered the exile of over a thousand people who fought for Hugh O’Neill. I have ordered the mind wipe of four hundred more. But Hugh killed almost a thousand people. It is my job to protect you. I could not allow those responsible for murder to walk away. Fergus and Corwin and Seamus told me this job would be hard. It is harder than I imagined.”

She looked into the eyes of those in the front row, and tried to speak directly to them, and through them to the others farther away. “Andrew O’Byrne has now rebelled. He claims to have bombed one of our factories in Wales. He promises more death. I cannot look away from that. I will protect you. I will bring Andrew to justice. I will protect Clan O’Byrne, but I won’t promise it will be easy. I ask for your help, your loyalty, and your good will. In exchange, I promise you shall have mine.”

She stepped down from the fountain. Rebecca stepped toward her, gave her a small smile and nodded. And then some people started clapping, then more of them, and some started cheering. The crowd closed around her, people called out welcomes and shouted encouragement. She stood in the midst of her people, shaking their hands, hugging them, a smile on her face and tears streaming down her cheeks.

Back in the room Brenna and Rebecca shared, Rebecca asked, “What about Andrew?”

“If you can find him, take him out. But Rebecca, it has to be totally clean. No collateral damage. That’s not the message I want to send to the Clan. Not a one of them is worth sacrificing to kill Andrew.”

“I hope he doesn’t kill you,” Rebecca said.

Brenna chuckled. “That’s why I have a bad-ass Protector sleeping in my room.”

“Oh, please,” Rebecca said, rolling her eyes and going off to the bathroom to brush her teeth and get ready for bed.

A knock on the door had Brenna casting her mind out to see who it was. She admitted Morrighan, who drew her into a hug.

“How are you doing, Lady O’Byrne?” Morrighan said.

“That shit has to stop,” Brenna said, drawing away from her aunt. “I’m not Lady O’Byrne. At the most, I’m Lady Brenna, but not to you. This thing is already too complicated. I’ll go nuts trying to figure out whether I’m Lady O’Byrne, Lady O’Donnell or Lady O’Neill, depending on which day it is and where I am.”

Morrighan laughed. “It’s going to take some time for the Irish Clans to break down centuries of formality. And some people may resent it.”

“I really don’t think so. The older people will remember Caylin, and appreciate me not trying to take on her mantle. And as young as I am, they won’t have a problem calling me Lady Brenna. The younger people will be easier.”

Nodding, Morrighan said, “You may be right.”

She crossed to the sideboard and poured herself a snifter of brandy. “What are you going to do about Andrew?”

“Try to find him, limit the damage,” Brenna replied. “If we’re careful, hopefully we can avoid another war. I’m hoping we can draw him in and trap him. Give him enough rope to hang himself.”

Morrighan shrugged. “If you need someone to tie the noose, let me know.”

“Do you and your brothers hate him that much?”

“You have no idea. He’s tried to kill every one of us. When Michael was three and Andrew was twelve, Andrew tried to drown him. He pushed me off a horse and tried to trample me when I was eight. But he really screwed up with Brian. Brian is the strongest of all of us. He damn near crippled Andrew when Andrew tried to bully him. If it wasn’t for Father, Brian would have killed him decades ago.”

“That bad, huh?”

“Worse. He’s a bloody sociopath. Murderous, sadistic, and narcissistic.”

“C’mon, Morrighan, don’t hold back. Tell us what you really think,” Brenna said with a laugh.

“What do you expect him to do?” Rebecca asked, coming back into the room.

“Andrew grew up during the Irish fight for independence,” Morrighan said. “During the Troubles in the north, he joined the IRA. Father wasn’t happy. I don’t think Andrew did it out of a sense of patriotism. I think he just liked blowing things up, killing and maiming people.”

“Wonderful,” was all that Rebecca said, shooting a look at Brenna.

“You know he had people in the crowd tonight,” Morrighan said.

“Devlin has doubled security at all their facilities, cancelled leaves, and put everyone on red alert,” Rebecca told them.

“You mean
our
facilities, right?” Brenna said.

“Yeah, our facilities. Damn.” Rebecca looked from Brenna to Morrighan and back again. “This is for keeps, huh?”

She sat down in a chair and stared off into space for a few minutes.

“Where do I fit into all this? Formally, I mean,” Rebecca finally asked.

Brenna looked at Morrighan.

“Security coordinator,” Morrighan promptly said. “You’re dealing with security apparatus in three separate Clans, and three separate security chiefs. They’d better all be on the same page.”

Brenna nodded. “Do I have to give her a raise? Or can I continue to pay her with empty promises and good will?”

Rebecca barked a laugh and Morrighan chuckled.

“How about my own private plane so I can visit my husband occasionally?” Rebecca suggested.