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

*No, I don’t. She’s like you. She just does things. When she gets going, she’s moving too fast in her head to explain anything, and no one has a chance to catch up until the roller coaster comes to a stop.*

Jeremy led them down a hall and through the main parlor of the O’Neill manor house. Halfway through the room, Brenna stopped and gestured to a painting hanging over the massive fireplace. They all looked up, and Rhiannon gasped.

“Delilah O’Neill. Mean as a junkyard dog, sweeter than sugar, prettier than a sunset,” Brenna said. “That’s what Seamus told me once about our great-grandmother.”

The woman in the portrait was dressed in a nineteenth century evening dress, black with red trim. Her copper-colored hair was in an elaborate up-do, and her face was a mirror image of Rhiannon’s.

“Holy Goddess,” Rhiannon breathed.

“We were told the picture was painted around 1830,” Rebecca said. “You haven’t been time traveling, have you?”

“It seems to run in the family,” Jeremy said. “Brenna and her mother are carbon copies. I guess the Goddess likes to reuse the most beautiful faces.”

Brenna reached out and took Rhiannon’s arm. “Come on. We have an appointment, and we can’t afford to be late.”

“Where are we going?” Rhiannon asked. She looked around and found that they were completely ringed with O’Donnell Protectors.

“To meet your grandfather,” Brenna said.

Rhiannon stopped so suddenly that Brenna was almost jerked off her feet.

“No,” Rhiannon said, shaking her head. “Just because he’s dying doesn’t mean I want to meet the old bastard.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Brenna growled.

Rhiannon drifted off the floor and Brenna pulled her along. Rhiannon tried to fight, but discovered that Brenna had covered her with an O’Neill super mental shield so strong and tight that she couldn’t access her Gifts. Rhiannon was one of the strongest telepaths in the world, fully mature and at the height of her power, but Brenna had overwhelmed her as though she was a little girl. For one of the few times in her life, Rhiannon experienced fear of another telepath.

“Brenna, what are you doing?” Rebecca asked, clearly alarmed. “That’s not right. You can’t just bully someone like that!”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Brenna responded. “He’s dying. I can feel him. We don’t have much time.”

Brenna broke into a trot, hauling a terrified Rhiannon behind her. Rebecca shot a look at Jeremy, who shrugged.

When they reached Corwin’s quarters, his son Hugh met them. “He’s been asking for you,” Hugh said. “I think he’s almost gone.”

Then he saw Rhiannon. “Who is that? What’s going on?”

Brenna didn’t answer, pushing past him and through the door to Corwin’s bedroom. She sat Rhiannon back on her feet, and taking her hand, pulled her toward the old man lying in the bed.

Corwin’s hair had turned completely white. His breathing was labored and shallow. Multiple strokes had stolen his strength and ability to speak.

*
Uncle? I’ve brought someone to meet you,*
Brenna sent to Corwin, including Rhiannon in her transmission.

The old man opened his eyes, then they opened so wide Brenna thought they might pop out of his head.

*Mother? Have you come to take me home?*
Corwin sent.

*No, Uncle. This isn’t Delilah. This is Rhiannon, your granddaughter.*

He stared at Rhiannon in horror for a full minute, then tears began to spill down his cheeks and he sent,
*Oh, dear Goddess. What have I done? I shall surely burn in hell for what I’ve done.*

He looked back and forth from Brenna to Rhiannon.
*What should I do?*

*Acknowledge your blood, Uncle,*
Brenna sent.
*Give Rhiannon her birthright.*

“Rhiannon, my beautiful granddaughter. Please forgive me,” Corwin said aloud. Hugh jerked as though he’d been slapped.

The old man reached out, taking Rhiannon’s hand and also grabbing Brenna’s elbow. His eyes rolled back in his head, and his breath rattled in his throat. He lay still.

When a telepath dies, at the moment when the soul leaves the body, his or her memories can pass to another telepath in physical contact. Long before, Corwin had told Brenna that he planned to pass his Death Gift on to her. Brenna had dreaded that moment, and hoped she could engineer the passing of the O’Neill legacy to Corwin’s granddaughter, where Brenna believed it properly should go.

She hadn’t found anything in her research or from talking to other telepaths that a Death Gift could be passed to more than one person. With the old man holding her arm in his death grip, she discovered that she should have asked the question.

The others in the room saw Corwin breathe his last, his hands touching each of the young women standing in front of him. Brenna and Rhiannon stood stock still as if frozen. They stood that way, eyes unfocused, for almost half an hour, and then both slumped to the floor, senseless.

~~~

Memories and knowledge flowed into Brenna, overwhelming her. It was worse than when she was a little girl, before her mother taught her to shield, when the thoughts of everyone around her invaded her mind. She couldn’t figure out who all the people were, or where they stopped and she began.

Thoughts and memories, men and women, children and aged crones, a flood of people were in her head. Some of the memories were beautiful. Others were horrifying. Memories of war, torture, and death. Memories of giving birth to a child, of being in love, of betrayal and humiliation. All the things a person might have done when they were alive now crowded her mind. Memories of sunny summer meadows in mountains she had never walked through mingled with memories of making love to men and women she had never met. Memories of being a man and making love to a woman. Terrifying memories of an axe descending, splitting her skull, the pain and darkness bursting through her mind. A sword piercing the child in her arms, continuing through and into her chest.

Over and over, the memory of dying. All of them had died. A mother held her child in her arms as it died, and received its young memories. A wife had held her husband, and discovered he had been faithless. A man held his father’s hand and discovered that in spite of his hard, unbending ways, he had loved his son and been proud of him.

It was too much for one mind to hold. She was going mad.

But every one of those people had done this and the majority had survived and emerged from the experience sane. Not all. Some had succumbed to madness, and those memories were there, too.

Attempting to restore some kind of order, she began categorizing, cataloging, and finding a place to store all the memories. Telepaths have extremely well-ordered minds, unlike the fragmented disorder, the chaos, in the mind of a norm. Fearing for her sanity, she worked to restore the order she was used to.

But there was so much of it. Centuries of memories, hundreds of people. Sometimes she would find memories of the same event as remembered by two different people. It was so confusing that her frustration grew and grew. Even trying to figure out how to store it, and where, was so much work that she despaired she would ever get it under control.

Corwin had the O’Neill Gift. Those with the Gift had seventeen mental levels as opposed to the nine levels of those without it. Figuring out where Corwin had stored a piece of information helped her to construct a model to use. It struck her that Rhiannon only had nine levels. The confusion and chaos must be worse for her.

Guilt hit like a hammer. Brenna had been so terrified of Corwin’s Death Gift that she’d attempted to force Rhiannon to take it instead. Forcing another telepath, someone weaker than you, was a major breach of the rules her society lived by.

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.”