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

by BR Kingsolver

  When she reached the top and disappeared through the door, I climbed the stairs. I could feel the girls on the second level. The room at the top of the stairs was another sitting room and the walls were lined with doors. Peter was cuffing the hands of a man lying on the floor.

  I nodded at Rebecca, and then headed up the next set of stairs. So far, we had known the layout from the bouncer whose mind we’d read, but he had never been on the third floor. We were entering uncharted territory.

  The door at the top was steel with a security keypad next to it on the wall. It was locked.

  *Stand back,* Rebecca sent. I dropped to my stomach. A whoosh of air passed over me and the door blew off its hinges as the air shield Rebecca projected hit it like a battering ram. I scrambled to my feet and leaped through the door, holding my own air shield ahead of me.

  The room I entered was another parlor, but it was very different from the one downstairs. Plush burgundy velvet covered expensive overstuffed chairs and couches. Dark, polished wood tables held lace doilies and fresh flowers in oriental vases. Oil paintings in elaborate frames lined the silk-covered walls, and thick Persian rugs covered the floors. Past the parlor, I could see a kitchen through an open door.

  Rebecca entered behind me. I motioned to a closed door on our right and headed for the closed door on my left. The door was locked, so I used a projected air shield to open it and stepped into a large bedroom even more luxurious than the parlor. I could feel someone ahead of me, and moved to my left to try to get a better look beyond the canopied bed. I heard footsteps moving away from me, and I rushed forward to find a set of stairs going upward. The door at the top of the stairs slammed shut.

  I pounded up the stairs, pausing at the top and carefully pushing the door open. Stars sparkled above me. I peered out and someone hit me in the face. I fell backward down the stairs, managing to catch hold of the railing only by dropping my pistol. I think that’s the only thing that saved me from breaking my neck.

  I staggered back up the stairs and at the top saw a woman in a dressing gown running across the roof.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot,” I shouted at her. If I shot, it would be with something more lethal than a bullet, as I didn’t have my gun.

  The woman slowed as she reached the low parapet and turned. Smiling, she stepped backward onto the parapet and stepped backward again, taking her past the edge. I ran forward, hearing Rebecca’s footsteps behind me. The woman stood in the air for a moment, then dropped out of sight.

  Reaching the parapet, I looked over and saw her sinking toward the ground. It looked like she was standing in air, riding an invisible elevator. A fireball bloomed in her hand and she hurled it toward us. We ducked back behind the parapet and the fireball roared past us.

  “Damn, why didn’t I think of that?” Rebecca said.

  “What?”

  “Projecting an air shield all the way to the ground, then riding it down as you shrink it. Pretty smart.”

  Yeah, pretty smart. Diving over the wall, I projected an air shield in front of me in case she tossed any more fireballs. I pushed against the ground with Telekinesis to slow my fall.

  My quarry reached the ground first and sprinted toward a parked car. She jumped in and peeled out of the parking lot, the car door still open. I ran around the corner of the building in time to see her pull the door shut and accelerate toward the end of the street.

  Donny stepped out in front of the car and held out his hand like a traffic cop. She floored it, and the engine of the BMW let out a roar. The next sound was a horrendous crash as the car piled into Donny’s air shield.

  Calmly, he walked toward the car and wrenched the driver-side door open. The woman was pinned to her seat by the air bag. He reached in, took her arm, and pulled her out of the car. She stumbled to her feet and slammed her knee into his groin. As he fell to the ground, she limped away, disappearing around the corner. I broke into a run.

  I rounded the corner in time to see her jump into another car. The driver of that car then sped away. I reached for an electrical line and found one underground. Drawing the electricity into me, I pointed at the retreating car and discharged a lightning bolt. It splashed on an air shield when it got close to the car, which took another corner and disappeared.

  I turned back and walked to where Julia knelt over Donny.

  “Is he all right?” I asked.

  “I think he’ll survive,” she answered. “I’m a lot more experienced in delivering this injury than healing it, though.” She blushed furiously, then unbuckled his belt, put her hand in his pants, and closed her eyes. I hadn’t realized she was a Healer, but of course, Peter would have included one on our team.

  Figuring I should make myself useful, I picked up the wrecked BMW with Telekinesis and carried it back behind the brothel.

  Inside, Peter and Rebecca had already started their interrogation of the other telepath. Morrighan was going from room to room on the second floor checking on the girls that Norton had enslaved. Edwin, Davin and Aidan were searching the place and taking control of the security system.

  *Be careful to check for booby traps,* Rebecca broadcast. *I think there’s an incendiary device someplace.*

  *You think she’d burn the place down?* I asked her.

  *To get rid of the evidence? Yes,* she replied. *I think it’s triggered by a remote control. Her man here believed it, so I do.* She was referring to the man whose mind she was ransacking.

  *Found it, and the trigger,* Edwin sent. *It was on the second floor.*

  I wandered into a second floor room that I hadn’t seen before. It was filled with apparatus and tools for a BDSM dungeon. Chantelle’s playroom. There were several pieces of furniture whose purpose I recognized due to my tour of the dungeon in Paris. There was also a large selection of tools, whips, and contraptions I didn’t want to look at twice or think about. As I turned to leave, Rebecca walked in.

  “Wow. This is neat,” she said, walking around and stroking the equipment. Seriously. Stroking it. Picking up the whips and floggers and swinging them for balance. “I wonder if I could talk Brenna into teleporting this stuff back to the States for me. This is some really expensive high-end stuff.”

  I heard Morrighan laugh behind me. “I think you’re scandalizing our PI,” she said.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Rebecca said, blushing slightly. She picked up a wooden box and tucked it under her arm. “In any case, we shouldn’t leave this here.”

  “What’s that?” I didn’t want to ask, but my curiosity got the best of me.

  She opened the box to show me. The inside was lined with velvet. Elastic bands held a selection of scalpels with blades of different sizes and shapes.

  “I’m not into that sort of play,” she said, “but I don’t think we should leave weapons lying around. I’m sure the Healers can use them.”

  Even though we were in a hurry, it took us over an hour to gather up the computers, account books, money, and other interesting items. I used the time to ransack the mind of the telepath who was Chantelle’s second in command. He knew Brendan O’Driscoll very well. Brendan often rented Chantelle’s dungeon, bringing his own victims with him. He always came with Ramona, but usually he brought one or two young girls as well.

  Chantelle’s partner was a Healer. He had his hands full when O’Driscoll and Ramona came alone. His memories contained several episodes when the damage O’Driscoll inflicted on his lover was so extreme that the Healer had wondered if she would survive.

  O’Driscoll bought any telepathic girls that happened to fall into Chantelle’s clutches. Recently, however, he had purchased two of Chantelle’s ‘specials’ who were norms. The girls were thirteen and fourteen.

  The pimp also revealed the identity of the driver who had spirited Chantelle away. He was another telepath who worked the day shift, running the brothel while Chantelle and the Healer slept. His shift was supposed to start shortly after we launched our raid.

  Peter called for a small bus. We load
ed the girls onto it and took off for O’Byrne manor in Wicklow. As we pulled to the corner, Rebecca turned around and pointed at the building. We heard an explosion.

  “What the hell?” I asked.

  “We thought Chantelle’s idea was pretty sound,” Peter said. “I don’t want her setting up shop there again, so we didn’t disarm her booby trap.”

  The girls and women we had found ranged from fifteen to thirty in age. The oldest was a stunning six-foot blonde Russian. The youngest were identified in Chantelle’s books as “specials,” available only to select clients. She did most of her procuring herself.

  From reading the captured men’s minds, we discovered Chantelle’s business model. The younger girls were runaways that her partners picked up on the streets of Dublin. The rest had answered ads Chantelle placed to hire escorts. She was careful only to hire those with no connections. Most were new to Dublin, estranged from their families or running from abusive boyfriends, husbands or fathers. Their disappearance didn’t raise a ripple, and no one was looking for them.

  “Will it be difficult to remove the compulsions?” I asked Rebecca.

  “Probably not,” she answered. “But there’s nothing we can do about the areas of their minds that were wiped. That knowledge, those memories are gone forever. We do need to be careful removing the compulsions. That’s something only a trained psychologist should do. If the compulsions caused them to do anything they find repugnant, it could create some trauma.”

  I nodded. Servicing a dozen men a day on an assembly line would probably traumatize me. Not to mention being enslaved and held prisoner.

  “She tagged you pretty good,” Rebecca said to me.

  It took me a moment to adjust to the change of subject, but then I realized what she meant. My left eye was swollen half shut. I put my hand to it, and everything I touched hurt.

  “Let me see,” Julia said. She put her hand over my eye and I felt her energy flowing into me. Mum is a Healer, and since I was the kind of girl who climbed trees and scrapped with the boys, I’d felt a Healer’s touch many times.

  ~~~

  Chapter 24

  “Well, we did our good deed for the day,” Rebecca said, “but it hasn’t gotten us any closer to shutting down O’Driscoll. What’s our next move?”

  “We do know that O’Driscoll recently bought two norms,” Morrighan said. “I think we might have put a dent in his business.”

  “Morrighan, ask your contact with the Garda to get us a list of all the women and girls who have disappeared since we captured Ramona Fitzpatrick,” I said. She nodded.

  “I thought I might try to connect with O’Driscoll for that lunch he invited me to,” I continued. “But with this, I’m not sure.” I gingerly touched my eye. Julia had taken care of the swelling, but instead of a new black eye, it looked as though it was a couple of days old, yellow and purple and ugly.

  “Actually, the black eye might be even better,” Morrighan said.

  We all turned and looked at her.

  “O’Driscoll likes to hurt women,” she continued. “We know he was attracted to you. If he thinks you’re a victim, he might be even more attracted.”

  I immediately understood the line she was taking. I’d spent years watching abusive men, and a large part of my business came from helping women escape such men.

  “I’m back from London because I’m running from my arsehole of a boyfriend,” I said. “I like it. I can make that work.”

  ~~~

  We headed back to Dublin. I brought along one of the evening gowns the O’Byrne seamstress had made for me. I didn’t know if I’d need it, but it made sense to have it rather than have Morrighan haul me off shopping again.

  I was sitting in the back of the van with Rebecca, when she turned to me and said, “We need to talk. If I’m going to be your backup, you can’t go running off and getting black eyes, or jumping off buildings and leaving me behind.”

  “Okay, I’ll be good,” I said.

  “Being only good might get you dead,” she said. “If we’re going to be partners, then we have to work together. And that means coordination and working out plans in advance. According to Peter, O’Driscoll has a security force of over 80. You don’t just charge into a battle and hope things work out for the best.”

  I thought back to Paris and Munich. “Is there a Luck Gift?”

  “Not that I know of, but I’m not going to trust in something I can’t control.”

  Morrighan turned around in her seat and stared back at me. “Dear Goddess. That may be the only rational explanation for why you’re still breathing.”

  “I said it as a joke,” I told her.

  “Yes, I know,” Morrighan said. “Rebecca, can you have Brenna and your geneticist friend in the States check on that?”

  “Are you Precognitive?” I asked Rebecca.

  “Yes. But as I said, I don’t trust something that comes and goes without a definitive trigger,” Rebecca said. “I’ve had a few visions, but nothing that ever helped.”

  She spent the next hour explaining to me how we needed to coordinate and cover each other when things got dicey. Who would do what and in what order. It made a lot of sense. We set up a link between us, set up codes and signals, and depending on the situation, agreed on who would use which Gift. We did have many of the same defensive and offensive Gifts, but figuring out how they could be used in complement was very interesting.

  By the time we reached Morrighan’s flat, Rebecca seemed satisfied and I was impressed. I’d learned more about organization and tactics in an hour than I’d learned at O’Byrne and Interpol combined.

  I raised my voice so everyone in the van could hear me. “Do we know what Gifts O’Driscoll has?”

  “I think it’s obvious he has Charisma, as well as Empathy and Empathic Projection,” Morrighan said. “Past that, I’m not sure.” She pulled out her mobile and called her brother.

  After she hung up, she said, “Michael is pretty sure he has the O’Byrne Dominance Gift. He said there were a couple of incidents at university where O’Driscoll forced telepathic girls. He also saw O’Driscoll use the air, fire, and water trine. Otherwise, he’s not sure.”

  Air, fire, water. Aerokinesis, Pyrokinesis, Cryokinesis. It was a common combination in powerful Irish telepaths. Strictly speaking, Cryokinesis was the ability to change the temperature of things, but it was the only Gift that worked on water. None of the Gifts we knew about would cause me, or Rebecca, any major problems.

  Rebecca sat back and said, “You don’t have to worry about me getting in your line of fire. I’m used to working with someone more powerful than I am. Just remember that if you go someplace using Telekinesis, like jumping off a building, to grab me first. I still don’t have much distance, and I probably won’t be able to keep in touch with you more than half a mile away.”

  I chuckled and turned to look at her. She wasn’t smiling. She didn’t seem to understand how startling her statement had been. Two people with the same Gifts didn’t necessarily have the same amount of power. I began to understand Collin’s reaction when I’d asked about Rebecca’s age.

  “Peter,” I called. He was riding to the left of the driver. “How far away can you feel me, or call me, through our link?”

  “Probably about a quarter mile. Why?”

  Rebecca sat up straight in her seat. “Is that about normal?” she asked.

  “No, but I’m pretty powerful,” he answered. “Considering how many Gifts you have, you should be able to exceed that when you mature.”

  She looked back at me. “What’s normal?” she whispered.

  “About a hundred fifty, two hundred yards. That’s what I’m told. I have the Krasevec Gift, so I’m not normal. A half mile requires a hell of a lot of innate power.”

  ~~~

  The following day, I went to the Oireachtas. Rebecca and Morrighan had put makeup on me, artfully failing to cover my black eye completely. Morrighan and I had set up a lunch rendezvous with reserv
ations at a nice restaurant nearby. Meeting her was my cover story.

  I wandered by O’Driscoll’s office a half dozen times, hoping to run into him. I felt like a streetwalker trolling for clients. Finally, he emerged and saw me.

  “Miss Kendrick. What a pleasant surprise,” he said with a smile. “What are you doing back in Dublin?”

  “Mr. O’Driscoll. I’m sorry we missed our luncheon date the last time I was here. I, well, I decided that, uh, I just wanted to spend some more time with my cousin. I didn’t have anything pressing in London, so I came back.” I hoped it sounded as lame as I was trying to make it. “I’m supposed to meet her for lunch. I think I might have gotten turned around.”

  “Where are you supposed to meet?”

  I told him and he chuckled.

  “Yes, I think you’re turned around. Let me escort you. It’s on my way.”

  As we walked, he kept glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. I knew he was curious about my black eye, but he was polite and didn’t say anything.

  “I feel terrible that I had to cancel our date,” he said. “I would like to make it up to you. Are you free for dinner some evening?”

  “Yes, I don’t have any real plans,” I said. He had two bodyguards discreetly following us. If he had protection in this building, I could imagine what he’d have when he was outside. We would have to be very careful to avoid a public battle.

  “How about tonight? Say about eight?”

  “I would like that. Where should I meet you?”

  “I can pick you up. Where are you staying?”

  *He wants to pick me up. What should I tell him?* I sent to Morrighan and Rebecca.

  *Where I live isn’t a secret.* Morrighan replied. *Rebecca?*

  *We can cover you. Tell him yes.* Rebecca said.

  “I’m staying at Morrighan’s. Do you know where it is?” I gave him the address and the phone number at her flat.

  We rounded a corner and saw Morrighan waiting for us in the foyer of the building.

  “I’ll see you at eight. Morrighan, always a delight to see you,” he said, then turned and walked away, his bodyguards shadowing him.