The Telepathic Clans Omnibus

by B R Kingsolver

  “What was that about?”

  Jill shook her head, then comprehension dawned on her face. “He’s a precog you know. He saw something. Damn, I wish I knew what he saw.”

  ~~~

  Chapter 2-5

  Behind every great woman is a guy looking at her ass. - Author Unknown

  Jill drove down to DC on Monday and flew out on Tuesday, promising to be back in two weeks. Brenna and Rebecca rode with her into the city to spend the next few days Christmas shopping.

  “Brenna, you already bought me a boatload of clothes. You’re not going to get me something for Christmas too, are you?”

  “Oh, maybe an accessory or two, maybe a new flogger,” Brenna said, smiling.

  Rebecca chuckled. “Just don’t go overboard, okay? I don’t know if I’ve said thank you enough, but thank you again. You don’t have to buy my love.”

  “Perish the thought, I know you’re cheap,” Brenna laughed. “But let me have my pleasures, okay? Believe me, I got more pleasure out of seeing you in that new evening dress than you got from wearing it.”

  ~~~

  It was a warm sunny day in Washington, unseasonable for late November. Sean enjoyed just walking around. He had been over to the National Mall, although he hadn’t gone inside any of the museums. There would be plenty of time to do that later, perhaps on a day when the weather wasn’t so nice.

  Walking north from the Capitol, he planned to stop into a pub he remembered for lunch. It was too early to begin working on his assignment -- that would take place after dark. For now, he could enjoy the day and the pleasant sight of the two young women walking in front of him.

  Dressed in tight blue jeans, they definitely were among the nicer attractions he’d seen that day. The taller one moved like a dancer, slender and oh so enticing, her high-heeled boots clicking on the pavement. The shorter, wider one had a nice arse, but he was sure the loose peasant blouse hid a chubby figure and the tight jeans probably contained more fat than he preferred. No fat on the other one, though, of that he was sure. He smiled to himself. A typical pair, tall and slender would be pretty, and her chunky friend with the long braid would be happy to take any attention that might spill over.

  They were going in the same direction he was, and it didn’t occur to him that after three blocks they might think he was following them.

  Suddenly they stopped, whirling about. They were younger than he had imagined, and the tall one was even prettier. She took several steps toward him, and the shorter one moved away from her, off to his left.

  “Why are you following us?” the tall brunette asked, a definite menace in her tone.

  For the first time, he attempted to read her mind and was shocked when he hit an unyielding shield.

  “I wasn’t following you. We just happen to be going the same direction,” he replied, unsure of himself.

  She smiled with all the friendliness of a hunting lioness, “A telepath following two telepaths by accident? I think that’s stretching coincidence a little far, don’t you?”

  He threw power to his shields and tried to trigger an air shield about himself. His Gift failed, and he felt a moment of panic. He glanced at the other woman, and decided panic wasn’t such a bad idea. Fear churned his stomach as he realized his attention had been on the wrong woman. The short one was a succubus.

  He attempted to step backward and discovered he was covered in an air shield projected by one of the women. None of his Gifts responded when he tried to trigger them. One of them was an O’Neill, and had covered him in a mental shield so tight he was helpless. Unearthly beautiful, the shorter woman smiled, the look in her eyes freezing him and making the other woman suddenly look benign.

  “Drop your shields,” the succubus told him, her voice a soft, melodic purr that caused an immediate and inappropriate response south of his belt. “I won’t ask you a second time.”

  A soft tap against his first level shield was followed by a blow that staggered him. Wide eyed, his head filled with pain, he complied.

  All of them, she said in his mind. Either you give me all nine levels, or I take them, it’s up to you how much pain you want to bear.

  Sure he was going to die, and equally sure he was powerless to stop her, he dropped his shields and allowed her to look at his soul. She captured him, holding his soul with her mind. The women turned and walked off down the street. He followed on a mental leash.

  “Damn, he was telling the truth,” the short succubus told her friend. “He was just going the same place we are to lunch.” She laughed, “He thinks you have a nice ass.”

  “Me?” the taller woman said in surprise.

  “Yeah, he thinks I’m fat.”

  “So what are we going to do with him?” The tall woman’s voice held a note of confusion.

  “Let him buy us lunch. Then we’ll take him back to the house and let the boyos rummage through his mind. After that, I guess we’ll burn him out, drain his memories and send him on his way. Kind of a pity. He really isn’t a bad guy, just a little shady. But he’s hunting prey for Siegfried, so I don’t have a lot of sympathy for him.”

  Sean started to sweat. The off-hand way she discussed his future was more than unsettling. He was terrified.

  Entering the pub, the tall woman asked for a table and they were seated away from the other diners.

  “Sean McDermott, I’m Brenna and this is my friend Rebecca. Order whatever you like, since you’re paying,” Brenna laughed. “We certainly won’t spare your credit card.”

  He discovered that although she was in control, he could speak and order for himself, including a pint of Guinness. The women also ordered lunch and beer as well as three shots of Midleton’s. They definitely weren’t sparing his wallet.

  When their drinks arrived, Brenna hoisted her whiskey and toasted him with a grin, “To new friends with deep pockets.”

  Tossing back their drinks, he felt the whiskey slide over his tongue and burn its way to his stomach. It brought a bit of soothing numbness. They ate their lunches and then his captors had him pay the bill, with an extremely generous tip.

  Rebecca called for a van. McDermott was taken into custody by Protectors and transported to the DC compound where he was locked in a basement cell. Brenna called Collin and explained what had happened. Kallen was dispatched to DC to interrogate the captive and decide what to do with him.

  ~~~

  Kallen entered McDermott’s cell and watched the blood drain from their captive’s face.

  “You really stepped in it this time, Sean,” Kallen drawled. “What were you thinking? White slavery? I always thought you had more sense, not to mention a higher sense of morality.”

  “White slavery? What the hell are you talking about? Kallen, I don’t know what those women told you, but I don’t know anything about that. Hell, she’s got my mind, look for yourself.” McDermott was sweating. He had met Kallen O’Reilly a couple of times and was fully aware of the O’Donnell assassin’s reputation.

  The women had never told him their last names or whom they were working with. All he knew was he’d run into the strongest telepaths he’d ever met. That they were two beautiful young women who looked to be barely out of high school was a trap he’d never imagined.

  “Just exactly what did you think von Ebersberg hired you for?” Kallen gave him a sardonic grin.

  “He’s looking to recruit young women, especially succubi. I’m supposed to find them, make initial contact to determine if they might be amenable to working in Europe, and notify him. From there he’ll interview them and perhaps make them a job offer. That’s all.”

  Kallen cocked his head, silently listening to someone, and then laughed, “Rebecca says if you think he’s paying your rates for that, you’re too stupid to breed. The good news, Sean, is they’re backing off the idea of burning out your Gifts. The bad news is they think you should be neutered.”

  McDermott swayed in his chair and Kallen thought he might faint.

  “Or, there’
s a third option.”

  His eyes glassy, McDermott gasped for air. “God, Kallen, who are those women?”

  “Boyo, you ran into two of the most dangerous women on the planet. That’s Seamus O’Donnell’s granddaughter and her shadow.”

  McDermott’s eyes rolled up in his head and he slid out of his chair to the floor.

  Brenna, Kallen sent, I think you have yourself a lap dog. Whatever you want him to do, he’s yours.

  Rebecca, also listening through his mind, responded, I think we can implant a construct with a compulsion and send him back to Europe to gather intelligence on Siegfried’s network.

  We’ll pay him, of course, Brenna added, but we don’t trust him as a free agent. If he screws up and betrays us, the compulsion will kill him. If not, then he’ll be all right.

  Kallen walked over and picked up the water pitcher sitting on a small table. He poured its contents over McDermott’s head.

  Brenna, come on in, Kallen sent.

  Brenna and Rebecca walked into the room. Sputtering and blinking water out of his eyes, McDermott first saw Rebecca.

  Then Brenna entered, her hair out of the braid and falling like a black wave across her shoulders. She wore a low-cut blue wrap dress that accented her wasp waist and curves, matching heels and a single strand of pearls. She was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, even if the smile of amusement on her face was at his expense. He couldn’t remember why he had thought she was fat.

  “Good evening, Sean,” she said in a sultry voice. “As Kallen said, we have an offer for you, assuming you don’t mind working for a chubby chick.”

  “Uh, no, uh, I mean I’m listening, I mean I don’t think you’re fat …,” he stammered.

  Her smile broadened and she laughed, “You just think I have a big ass. Well, so do I. It’s rather refreshing to receive an honest opinion.

  “Ok, here’s your choice: you’re going to work for O’Donnell. We’ll pay you a monthly salary and your expenses will come out of it. If at some point you think expenses are too high, present us with an expense report and receipts and we’ll review the situation.”

  Kallen lounged against the wall. “You can help yourself by supplying all the information you can on what you’re doing here and anything else you know about Siegfried’s operations,” he said. “We can get it from your mind, but I’d like to see you actively help us.”

  McDermott was nodding at all of this.

  Rebecca stepped forward and leaned down to look into his eyes. “We’re going to embed a construct on your ninth level with a compulsion. If you ever betray us, or attempt to disable the construct, the compulsion will burn out your brain. You don’t have any black on your soul, a little bit of brown, but no black. You’ve never raped a woman or coerced her into sex. Don’t. That will also trigger the compulsion. Any questions?”

  Her tight smile held no humor. He still wasn’t sure which of the women was scarier.

  “Do I have any choice?”

  “What I’ve outlined is the only choice I’m prepared to offer,” Brenna said. “Of course, you can let Rebecca have her way with you and go free.”

  His eyes widened. Glancing at Rebecca, he found it hard to breath. “You wouldn’t really castrate me?”

  “Oh, no,” Rebecca grinned. “I’d never do that. Burn out the nerves to a man’s groin, yes, but I’d never castrate someone. That’s so crude, don’t you think?”

  Kallen leaned over and in a soft voice said, “She’s not joking. You’ll find they’re both rather devoid of a sense of humor about certain things.”

  “Wha … what do you want me to do?” McDermott said, obviously shaken.

  “It seems some of our European brethren are capturing succubi. We’ve shut down some of their operations, but your presence indicates there’s more work to do,” Brenna said. “You’re going to help us.”

  Brenna’s face hardened, “Siegfried wasn’t going to offer jobs to the women you identified, or if he did, the jobs would be bogus. We think he enslaves them and either pimps them or sells them.”

  McDermott took a deep breath, then shook his head. “All I did was look at your arse, and I’m going to pay for that the rest of my life?”

  “No,” Brenna leaned close to him, “you agreed to take money from a slaver to identify targets for him. You didn’t ask any questions you didn’t want to know the answers to, and thought that would protect your soul. Don’t give me any of that ‘poor me’ crap. Do you want to see what you were doing?” She projected an image of Cindy Nelson, near death after being captured by Siegfried’s goons. It was accompanied by Brenna’s emotions when she first saw her friend’s battered body.

  She backed up quickly and managed to save her shoes. McDermott was violently sick.

  “Be glad you ran into me first,” Brenna said. “If you’d been successful at all in your assignment for von Ebersberg, I wouldn’t have spared you. Get your head on straight, Sean. Your world is black and white now, and I’m the white. If I tell you the sky is pink with purple polka dots, that’s your reality. You’re going to spend the rest of your life doing what I tell you. I suggest you learn to like it, it’ll be a lot easier.”

  Brenna turned and walked out of the room.

  Rebecca stepped up beside him and spoke in a conversational tone. “She’s being merciful. You’re lucky she didn’t turn you over to me.”

  They implanted the construct in his mind then put him back on the street.

  ~~~

  With the entire Clan on alert, Brenna found herself being far more aware of what went on around her. The day after she and Rebecca captured Sean McDermott, they were having lunch in a restaurant in downtown DC near the White House.

  “Rebecca, see that young girl over there? She’s a telepath and so’s the guy with her,” Brenna pointed out a couple just sitting down. The girl looked to be in high school, but with a fully mature woman’s body. That description might have been made about Irina. At twenty-three, Brenna looked a bit older and Rebecca, at twenty-four, looked old enough to attend college.

  Rebecca casually scanned the two, then froze with her fork halfway to her mouth.

  “She’s wearing a construct,” she said. “Why would a young telepath wear a construct?”

  Brenna slipped into the girl’s mind.

  “Damn,” she exclaimed, “I’ve been trying to figure out how they did it. It’s the construct.”

  “You’ve lost me,” Rebecca said.

  “How Siegfried controls a succubus. They’re implanting a construct.”

  “She’s a succubus?” Rebecca looked skeptical. The girl was pretty, but definitely not in the same class as the succubi she knew.

  “No, she isn’t. She’s a carrier.”

  It took a moment for that to register, but when it did, a grim expression set on Rebecca’s face.

  “Are you saying,” she started.

  “Yeah, that guy’s her pimp. He’s whoring her for big bucks. They’re taking a lunch break between appointments.”

  “Shit. The perfect whore, someone who can’t say no,” Rebecca looked sick.

  The man suddenly sat up and started looking around. When his eyes scanned over Brenna and Rebecca, he stopped and gazed at them intently. He turned back to the girl across the table from him and said something. They both stood and walked toward the exit.

  Brenna started out of her seat, but Rebecca put a hand on her arm.

  “Pay the bill. I’ll have Carly tail them,” Rebecca said. On a spear thread, she contacted the leader of Brenna’s protection team.

  Carly, there’s a man and a young girl coming out of the restaurant. Tail them. I don’t care if they see you, but don’t let them out of your sight. They’re telepaths. Brenna and I will be out in a minute.

  Brenna hurriedly paid the bill and they went out to the sidewalk. A Protectors’ van filled with the items they had bought shopping that day pulled up to the curb.

  “Why would someone pay extra for a telepath?” B
renna asked as they settled in the van.

  Rebecca shrugged. “Who knows what they’re training them to do. With a construct, you can make someone totally compliant. Whatever the customer wants, she’ll do. I guess she could also enhance the experience, make the guy think he’s having the climax of his life.”

  “Shit, she wouldn’t even have to screw him. Implant a memory, steal his wallet, and he’d still be happy as a clam,” the Protector sitting in the front seat said.

  Shaking her head, Brenna said, “I don’t have anything against prostitution, but I don’t think she’s doing it willingly.”

  “It’s not prostitution,” Rebecca said, her lips a thin line, “it’s serial rape.”

  Carly told them on a thread that the man and girl were picked up by a car driven by another man. They followed the car for several miles, then pulled up behind it when the trio pulled into a driveway in a suburban area just inside the beltway.

  Protectors poured out of the three vans Carly had involved in the chase. The driver of the car pulled a gun and immediately screamed and fell writhing on the ground holding his head. The other man attempted to fight using mental weapons, but also fell. Rebecca ran into the yard and grabbed the girl, pulling her back to the van.

  The door to the house burst inward off its hinges and two Protectors dived through the opening. A gunshot sounded inside, then all was quiet.

  We’ve got them all, Carly reported. These two plus two inside.

  A few minutes later, she called Brenna inside. Rebecca stayed in the van with the girl.

  “Brenna, there are five other girls in here,” Carly told her when she walked into the house. “I don’t think they’re running a brothel, but what we’re finding definitely looks like an escort service. None of the girls look old enough to drink.”

  That was an understatement. The girl outside looked younger than Irina, who was twenty-one, and she was older than those inside. A couple looked like they should be playing with dolls instead of men.

  Scanning their minds, Brenna found all were implanted with constructs.