Broken Dolls: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 3)

by BR Kingsolver

  Meara called while we were eating lunch. Morrighan tipped the phone away from her ear and I leaned in close to listen.

  “I tried all morning to call her,” Meara said, “and I can’t contact either her or her roommate. They always carry their mobiles. So I called a close friend of theirs, and she said she hadn’t seen or heard from either of them in two weeks. She’s worried.”

  “Tell her to have the friend call your contact with the Garda and report them missing,” I told Morrighan. She nodded.

  When she hung up, I said, “I think we should put O’Driscoll under around-the-clock surveillance. Can you requisition some Protectors from Lord O’Byrne?”

  Grimly, Morrighan nodded and called her brother. “Michael will take care of it,” she said, putting her phone away. “I gave him your number. If O’Driscoll appears with any women, we’ll get a call.”

  “I was thinking,” I said, “do you suppose we could ask all the Clans if they have any girls missing? And ask your people with the Garda for a list of girls reported missing in the past six months?”

  “I’ll see what we can do.” She pulled out her mobile again.

  We kept running into O’Driscoll everywhere we turned, and more girls were missing. I was beginning to wonder exactly what we’d tripped across. I doubted he was keeping a harem in his basement. Where did the girls go when he didn’t need them?

  “Can we find out about properties O’Driscoll owns?” I asked as she started to put her mobile back in her purse. She gave me an exasperated look and just stared at me.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Are you getting irritated with me?”

  “I’m just having trouble keeping up with your stream of consciousness.”

  A minute later, Peter, the head of Morrighan’s Protector team, walked into the restaurant and sat down at our table.

  “Peter, just listen to everything she says,” Morrighan told him, “and when she gets a bright idea, assign it to someone.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched, but he managed to suppress his smile. His eyes showed his amusement, however. He cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “I want a list of all the properties MP Brendan O’Driscoll controls, owns, leases, or has access to,” I said. “Also a list of all his business associates. Can we get financial disclosure information?”

  Morrighan nodded. “Call Karen at my office,” she told Peter. “She should be able to get all of that, and if she can’t, have her call Michael. Anything else?”

  “Yes,” I said. “May I have a piece of that pie the woman at the next table is eating? It looks really good.”

  They both laughed, and Peter signaled to the waitress.

  ~~~

  We stopped by Morrighan’s office and picked up the information her staff had collected for us. We started going through it, sorting, classifying, checking addresses on the internet, and marking them on a map.

  “This is certainly exciting,” Morrighan said four hours later.

  “Yeah, I’ve always loved this part of investigative work,” I lied.

  She chuckled.

  “Try to approach it as a jigsaw puzzle,” I said. “It makes it a little easier.”

  O’Driscoll had extensive property holdings, and his extended family had more. I eliminated all places outside the Dublin metropolitan area and had five left.

  “I think we should make another visit to Murphy,” I said.

  Morrighan looked surprised. “Why?”

  “We need O’Driscoll’s bank accounts. Not only the ones he’s listed on his disclosure statements, but also the ones Murphy’s set up for him secretly. He’s listing his age as forty-five. That means he’s gone through a life change, right?”

  Morrighan smacked her forehead with her palm. “Of course. What a dunce I am! All we’re seeing is what he’s willing to show the world.”

  She called her brother. “Michael, can you find out what Brendan O’Driscoll’s name was before his life change?”

  I couldn’t hear his side of the conversation, but she listened for a while, and I saw her nodding.

  When she hung up, she said, “He was born Hugh Sean O’Driscoll and he’s ninety-two years old. His current identity is a nephew of himself. It turns out Michael went to university with him. He’ll track down more information for us.”

  “Your brother is that much older than you are?”

  “I’m the baby. Lord O’Byrne is one hundred eighty-five. He and my Lady had four children and Maureen was the youngest. All of them are dead. I have three older half-brothers still living. Michael went through a life change when I was just a girl.”

  Because of our long lives, telepaths usually ‘die’ and are ‘reborn’ several times, changing their identities to avoid unwanted attention. I’m thirty-five, but most people would guess I’m in my early twenties. Lord O’Byrne appeared to be in his late sixties, maybe early seventies.

  One of my Gifts is Distance Communication. In addition to the ability to communicate over very long distances, it also enhances all of my other Gifts. It’s the reason I’m so confident in my power. Even as a child, I was stronger than most adults. Telepaths usually have a reach of a hundred yards or so. Some can reach a mile. But I can easily reach someone in Wales from Dublin.

  *Grandmother, it’s Rhiannon.* A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as she gave me hell for never calling her. And for calling her ‘grandmother’. She prefers I use her name so I don’t remind her how old she is. But I enjoy pulling her chain.

  Finally, she calmed down. *All right, what do you need? You never call unless you need something. Are you doing well? Do you need money?*

  *I’m fine, and I’m working, so money isn’t a problem. I’m in Dublin working on a case for Lord O’Byrne. I need some information, and I’m hoping to tap into your expertise. There’s an Irish MP who’s gone through a life change, and I’m trying to trace his assets, especially bank accounts and cash flows that might not show up in his present identity.*

  I listened for several minutes, then gave her what I had on O’Driscoll in both his guises. When I told her goodbye, I asked Morrighan, “Do you have a scanner? She wants some of the documents we have.”

  While I was sending the documents to Grandmother Bronwyn, Morrighan asked, “What does she do?”

  “She’s the wise woman, Healer, midwife, and comforter of widowers in a little town about thirty miles from Cardiff. She also manages money for a few clients and trades for her own account.”

  I chuckled, “She’s been through four life changes and specializes in transferring assets for clients doing the same. She knows all the tricks and has incredible connections. My mother’s father is a Swiss banker.”

  I didn’t tell Morrighan that Grandmum is also a computer hacker who invented an encryption and security algorithm. It’s used by almost every major bank on the planet and it’s supposedly unbreakable.

  ~~~

  We dressed appropriately and went to see Murphy. His secretary told us he had a client in his office, but she could get us in for a few minutes if we were willing to wait.

  He blanched when we walked in to his office. “Mr. Murphy, I need the records of transactions for Brendan O’Driscoll’s bank accounts. Not just the ones under his name, but all of the ones you’ve set up for him under other names, and all the accounts for his business ventures.”

  He stammered and stalled, but I entered his mind and laid a compulsion on him to cooperate. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t resort to such measures, but what he’d done to his niece removed all my moral qualms. The man deserved to be drawn and quartered.

  An hour later, we walked out with an armful of printouts. There were three illegal accounts set up under aliases. The tax authorities would have a field day if they had access to that material, but it wouldn’t happen due to our efforts. I would have to go through a life change someday, and humans don’t need to know about such things.

  “What are we looking for?” Morrighan asked, staring at the dense pr
intouts in dismay.

  “Regular deposits of money into the accounts that might indicate payments from illegal activities,” I answered. “If he’s making money from selling these women, he’s collecting it from someone. Remember Perry telling us that the women O’Driscoll supplies are available for a while, and then they disappear? I doubt that he’s killing the girls. I think he’s selling them. He plays with them while they’re fresh, but he and his clients are attracted by the newness. None of these guys are keeping a mistress. That’s not what they’re looking for.”

  We were two hours into searching the financial data when there was a knock on the door. Peter strode in and announced, “O’Driscoll met a middle-aged woman at a parking garage fifteen minutes ago. She had a young woman, a girl, with her. She meets Myrna’s description.” He paced the room. Peter was obviously itching to do something more exciting than following Morrighan and me around. “O’Driscoll took the girl and they left in his car. The older woman left alone. We’re following both of them.”

  “Let’s go,” I said, jumping up and grabbing my bag.

  “Where?” Peter asked with a half-grin, already heading to the door.

  “Don’t you have the Gift for being in two places at once?” I returned his grin. “If you’re following both of them, let’s see where O’Driscoll goes and we can check out the older woman later.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 8

  We took the Cooper and followed Peter’s van. Another van followed us. We ended up in a fancy neighborhood in a town just outside Dublin.

  “O’Driscoll took the girl inside a house on the next block,” the Protector waiting for us said. “We couldn’t get close enough to see her face, but she’s a short, young brunette. He stayed about fifteen minutes, then left. He’s being followed, and it appears he’s headed back to Dublin.”

  “Have you scanned the house?” I asked.

  “Yes. The girl and two norm males are inside.”

  “No telepaths?” He shook his head at my question. I smiled. “Let’s go join the party. Morrighan, wait here. Peter, may I have the pleasure of your company?”

  He smiled for the first time since I’d known him. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Rhiannon.”

  “Hey. Why can’t I come?” Morrighan asked.

  “Because we’re going to enter someone’s home without an invitation,” I said. “Peter and I are paid to take risks, and you’re not. We really don’t know what we’re walking into.”

  I pulled my pistol from its hiding place under my shirt and checked it, then put it in the pocket of my windbreaker. Peter nodded in approval.

  “You carry a gun?” Morrighan asked in alarm.

  “Everywhere, sometimes even to bed.”

  As we walked down the street together, Peter sent me a thought spear, *You were a pretty good shot when you trained with us in the summers.*

  *You remember me?*

  *You’re not someone a man would forget. The Lord would have my hide if he knew I slept with his sixteen-year-old niece, but when you offered, I couldn’t refuse.*

  I tried to remember, to think of what he would have looked like almost twenty years before. I’d slept with a number of Protectors during my training with them.

  We walked up to the front door of a mini mansion and rang the bell. Adrenaline had me almost vibrating. There shouldn’t be any trouble confronting two norms, but still, we were entering a house illegally with drawn guns.

  A man in a black suit answered. I captured his mind and he admitted us. Our intelligence was correct. This man was the butler and his employer was upstairs with the young woman. I put him to sleep and left him in a chair in the sitting room. We climbed the stairs to the master bedroom.

  Pausing outside the door, we extended our minds into the room, determining there were two people inside. Opening the door, we walked in and interrupted them. The man, Padraig O'Shaughnessy, was in his mid-fifties, of medium height, just a touch overweight, with graying blonde hair. He was someone you’d never notice walking down the street. He whirled, panic on his face.

  “Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?” O’Shaughnessy said.

  “Mr. O’Shaughnessy, have you asked this young lady how old she is?” I asked.

  The excitement I’d felt bled out of me like air from a balloon. The girl wasn’t Myrna, though they resembled each other. This girl wasn’t a succubus, and she couldn’t be much older than fifteen or sixteen.

  Peter chuckled, “I’d be ashamed of myself. Can’t you attract a woman without paying for her?” Through our link, I felt him capture the man’s mind.

  I stepped toward the girl and pulled her away from her would-be rapist. She looked confused. “What’s your name?” I asked her.

  “Sarah.” She suddenly gave me a bright smile. “Are you going to play with us, too?”

  Shaking my head, I probed her shields. They were pretty good. I pushed her backward toward the bed until it hit her behind the knees and she sat down on it. I didn’t want to hurt her, so it took almost five minutes for me to worm my way into her mind. It was appallingly empty. She had no memories that were more than a month old.

  *Peter, I’m in her mind. Join me.*

  Her memories included O’Driscoll, the woman who had dropped her off to him, and about twenty men she’d been to bed with. She was being kept at a home north of the city along with Sharon Dunn and a number of other girls. I scanned her mind and body and found that her energy levels were very weird. Both mentally and physically, she was kind of twitchy. She squirmed where she sat on the bed, and kept looking toward Peter and O’Shaughnessy.

  *Morrighan, can you join us, please? Would you be able to tell if a girl had that condition you explained to me? The one where a woman’s energy balances go out of whack?*

  *I think so.*

  When Morrighan walked in with two Protectors, I linked with her and took her into the girl’s mind through the breach I’d created in her shields.

  *Yes,* she told Peter and me, *her energies are out of balance. She’s going to need to have sex within a couple of hours.*

  *Well, he’s not going to be the one to do it,* I said, indicating O’Shaughnessy. *Maybe we can have one of the Protectors take care of it?*

  Grimly, Peter shook his head. *I think we should take her to Lady O’Byrne. She has a lot of experience with these girls. I’m not willing to order one of my men to do it. It’s too much like rape.*

  *What’s wrong with her mind?* I asked. *Did they mind wipe her?* I was livid at the idea. What kind of monster would erase someone’s entire life, their memories, their personality?

  *I’ll call and have a construct artist meet her there,* Morrighan said. She looked like she wanted to throw up. *We need to find out who she is and collapse the construct. It’s obvious that’s the problem with her mind.*

  *So you think she’s still in there? You don’t think she’s been wiped?* I desperately searched Morrighan’s face, needing her to give me some hope.

  Morrighan shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said aloud. “Goddess knows what people like this are capable of.”

  She and I helped the girl dress, and the Protectors took her for transport to Wicklow.

  “What do we do with him?” Peter asked. He was holding O’Shaughnessy by the arm. The man was white, his head jerking back and forth as he looked at each of us attempting to find a sympathetic face.

  “Hell, I don’t know,” I said. “I know what I want to do to him, but I don’t think my soul could withstand the damage.”

  “Morrighan?” he asked.

  “Whatever you think is appropriate, Peter,” she answered, her voice as cold as the grave. She gave O’Shaughnessy a look of such disdain and hatred that I was afraid she’d kill him on the spot. The blue was gone from her eyes. They were fully dilated, the eyes of a telepath riding the killing edge. She was shaking, and anger rolled off her so strongly that it didn’t take much of an Empath to read it. She turned abruptly and stalked out of
the room.

  Peter gave me a tight, press-lipped smile. Turning to O’Shaughnessy, he pushed him roughly to the bed. The man was pale and shaking.

  “Who are you people? What are you going to do? I’m going to call the police,” O’Shaughnessy babbled.

  Peter laughed. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “We are the pedophile police. Also judge and jury.”

  O’Shaughnessy wet himself.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked. I didn’t want to witness a murder.

  “I’m going to rearrange his mind a little and implant a compulsion. If he ever looks at a woman with lust, he’ll get physically sick and throw up. If he manages to overcome that and actually touch one, he’ll get an attack of hysterical paralysis. I’ll also implant an aversion to Mr. O’Driscoll. He really should stay away from bad influences. I’m not sure how long it will last, but it’s the best I can do without actually harming him.”

  I nodded and left him to it. I thought it was a rather creative and humane solution.

  We drove by Meara’s flat and showed her the images of Sarah and the other girls we had extracted from Sarah’s mind.

  “No, I don’t know any of them. That’s not Sharon’s roommate,” Meara said.

  “Do you know if her roommate’s a half?” Morrighan asked her.

  “What’s a half?” I had never heard the term.

  “A half succubus, an s-gene carrier,” Meara replied. She glanced at Morrighan, then looked back at me. “It’s considered a polite term, sort of like using Druid instead of succubus. No, she isn’t. She’s a telepath, but otherwise she’s normal.”

  “How pretty is the roommate?” I asked. Meara squirmed in her chair. “Be honest,” I said.

  “Well, she’s a nice girl, and kind of pretty, but she’s really thin and flat chested. She doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

  Sharon’s roommate’s disappearance still wasn’t explained.

  “As close as she and Sharon are, she doesn’t understand us going hunting. She’s kind of a prude and gives Sharon and me a hard time about being too loose,” Meara said.