The Telepathic Clans Omnibus

by B R Kingsolver

  As the evening wore on, each of them made a decision as to a man to go home with. Rebecca called in the Protectors who were off duty to provide enough coverage for each of them. It was inconceivable they would bring someone back to their chateau. The Protectors would have had a fit at such a security breach. Irina left first with her tall companion and then Antonia with a man who was well over a hundred. She told them on a thread he offered her fifty thousand euros to spend the night with him.

  Rebecca shook her head, watching them leave. “I just don’t understand why someone would pay to have sex. It’s something both people enjoy, both receive a benefit.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” Brenna said. “In some cases, I think they do it because it’s convenient. They don’t have to spend time building a relationship and don’t have to deal with the other person in the morning. It keeps it on a purely physical level.”

  Rebecca made a sour face, “You know, I’m tired of it only being physical. I want to wake up with the same man two mornings in a row.” She looked at Brenna with longing in her eyes, “I want someone to love me, dammit!”

  A gentleman asked Brenna to dance, and as he guided her around the floor, asked if she was looking for someone to warm her bed. Rather startled at such a blunt approach, she answered, “And if I am, I take it you’re willing to volunteer?”

  He chuckled. “I am prepared to make it worth your while. You are very beautiful.”

  She realized he was offering to pay her.

  “Monsieur, please understand that while I may be easy, I am not cheap.”

  “Would one hundred thousand euros satisfy you?”

  It was difficult to maintain her composure. “And exactly what do you propose?”

  He wanted her to accompany him to his chateau outside the city and spend the week with him. She turned him down, and he seemed baffled.

  Back at their table, she told Rebecca of the offer. “What I don’t get, is why would he want me to spend the week? He’s going to be out of it after the first night.”

  “Maybe he expects you to service his whole entourage,” Rebecca said with a chuckle, then broke into full laughter at the look on Brenna’s face. “Hey, take him up on it. If he’s really rich, you can drain everyone and then we’ll pull up the moving van and haul everything away.”

  Brenna ended up going home alone, to her Protectors’ great relief. Rebecca left with a young man who said his flat was within walking distance.

  They spent the next day at the Louvre, taking a break for lunch and then returning in the afternoon. Rebecca told her that before they left Paris she wanted to go back again. That night after dinner Brenna told them she wanted to go hunting in a hotel bar and Irina decided to join her. Antonia declined, heading back to the club they had been to the night before. In a stretch of four luxury hotels in close proximity, the two young succubi put on quite a Glow, arriving back at the chateau not long after midnight.

  The following days Antonia showed them more of the city, including Versailles, they did some shopping and basically took it easy.

  A trip to Castle Margaux and its famous winery put everyone in a good mood. Rising early the next morning, they made the two hour trip to the Loire Valley where they spent the day at Chenonceau, sometimes called Le Chateaux de Femmes or Castle of Six Ladies, reputed to be the most beautiful castle in France. Built across the Cher River and once the home of Henri II’s mistress Diane de Poitiers, the Americans were awed by its magnificent architecture, the spectacular entrance hall, the art museum and the bedrooms of its famous owners.

  “Now this, my dears, is what a courtesan of the sixteenth century could aspire to," Antonia told them. “Of course, when Henri died, his widow Catherine de Medici forced poor Diane to trade for a lesser castle. Such a fall from grace, it is to be pitied.” Her eyes sparkled with ironic humor.

  Irina stood in the huge kitchen, looking at a fireplace with a spit large enough to accommodate an entire cow. “Antonia, how much can a succubus, a courtesan, expect to earn nowadays?”

  Chuckling, Antonia told her, “It depends on how good you are at your craft. A true courtesan has skills beyond the bedroom. She must be educated, cultured, entertaining. She devotes herself to her patrons, whether it be one or many. It is a lot of work and the income flows are often very sporadic. The overhead is high -- clothes, jewelry, a luxurious place to entertain her patrons, being seen in all the right places such as the theatre, Cannes for the Festival, Monaco, other places where the rich go to play. It takes some time to establish yourself and acquire introductions into the best society.

  “But all that said, my daughter clears a couple of million euros a year. Nice, but nowhere near enough to support a lifestyle such as this.”

  She put her arm around Irina’s shoulders. “Irina, you are young and very bright and capable. You do something you enjoy, and you have a family who loves you. If you want to enhance your income by taking on patrons occasionally, no one will object. But I would not advise you to try and live such a lifestyle. You are much too sweet and naïve, il mia cara. Get some life experience and seasoning before you decide you want to do something like that. Victoria was in her thirties before she was able to establish herself, and even with my assistance it has taken her ten years to get to the point she’s reached.”

  As they walked down the hallway, she said, “I can teach you, but I’ve always made better money as a lawyer. I entertain only patrons who interest me and who I find attractive. If you approach it that way, it’s far more enjoyable.”

  ~~~

  By the terms of the treaty ending the Silent War in 1959, Paris was designated an open city, neutral ground. No Clan could claim it as its territory, and no hostilities could take place within fifty kilometers. All of the Clans had offices there, including those from Asia and Africa, which were not signatories to the treaty. It was the common meeting ground, where business deals were negotiated and telepaths from all over the world socialized.

  Before they left the States, Antonia told the young women of a ball scheduled during the time they would be in Paris. An annual affair, it was hosted by the de la Tour Clan, the last of the major French Clans and an O’Donnell ally, whose power was based in Marseilles.

  Brenna wore the teal dress, the most revealing and formfitting of the evening gowns Alice had made for her. Rebecca wore the maroon off-the-shoulder dress she’d worn at Solstice, and Irina wore a pink number with ruffles and lace that made her look even younger than usual.

  “My God, are you trolling for pedophiles?” Rebecca said.

  Irina dimpled and curtseyed. “Daddy, you’re such a naughty man,” she purred, then burst out laughing at Rebecca’s aghast reaction. “I’m in the mood to wear it,” she said. “Sometimes I like to play games.”

  “You’re a Goddamned enabler,” Rebecca muttered.

  Held at an exclusive hotel, so exclusive it wasn’t advertised or open to normal humans, the ball was an expensive affair, tickets running five thousand euros apiece. Seamus was paying the tab for the four ladies. The hotel and its vicinity swarmed with Protectors, or as other Clans might call them, Warriors, Guardians, or Watchers, but only one was allowed with each ticket inside the ballroom.

  Siobhan and Antonia had attended this event many times and had told the young women about it, but it was the first formal occasion for any of them outside the O’Donnell manor. Brenna was nervous and Irina looked like she was about to bounce out of her skin, smiling and laughing and looking around, her blue eyes huge in her face.

  As Brenna scanned the crowd, the only visual clues that a person was a bodyguard were the expression on their faces and the cut and quality of their clothes. O’Donnell’s Protectors didn’t give themselves away on the latter score. Carly wore a designer gown and the men wore quality wool-silk tuxedos. Seamus insisted that O’Donnell uphold a certain image, no matter what the occasion.

  Brenna identified almost thirty succubi. Antonia introduced her young charges to her daughter
Victoria and several other succubi. Victoria’s friends were younger, others were middle-aged as Antonia was, and two women who were graying. The younger women struck Brenna as somewhat arrogant, but the grace and elegance of the two older women was incredible. Both were courtesans in the nineteenth century tradition, a time when royalty gifted incredible jewels and estates on their mistresses.

  One of them, Olivia de Montespan, fixed Brenna with a hard stare, making her feel uncomfortable. Just as she was about to either say something or turn away, the woman said, “Turn around. Slowly. Now, walk away from me. Take ten steps, then turn and walk back.”

  Brenna shot a look at Antonia, who gave an almost imperceptible nod. Brenna did as Olivia directed.

  “Incredible,” Olivia said. “Antonia, she is just divine. She reminds me so much of that friend of yours. The one you used to hang around with in the sixties.” Turning her attention back to Brenna, she smiled and said, “Darling, do come visit me in Geneva sometime. I’d love to have you.”

  Brenna had never met Victoria Federicci, but had heard a lot about her from Antonia. The family comparison was evident in their faces, but where Antonia was Brenna’s height and build, Victoria was even taller than Rebecca, and her hourglass curves less pronounced than Antonia’s. Long, straight black hair fell almost to her waist.

  It soon became apparent that Brenna had been identified as the O’Donnell heir. Michel de la Tour, Clan Chief of the O’Donnell ally hosting the ball, escorted her around the room and introduced her to three other Clan Chiefs and half a dozen heirs. Brenna was proud of her memory, but she met so many people they became a blur. She met people from at least a dozen Clans, including at least one person each from China, Africa and the Middle East. The way many of them looked at her made her feel like a horse at an auction.

  Antonia had dozens of men she knew asking for introductions to her three young friends, and Brenna found herself beset with men asking her to dance. Drinking champagne and flirting with admiring men, she felt like Cinderella. Taking a short break, she looked around and saw Rebecca dancing with a tall man who said something to make her laugh. Rebecca’s face was flushed, her eyes sparkling. She looked happier than Brenna had ever seen her.

  It was almost midnight when a short, thin man with a French accent approached Brenna and asked for a dance. He introduced himself as Pierre la Fontaine as he pulled her into his arms. It became apparent that in her heels she was the same height he was. Dark haired with a pencil mustache, he wasn’t a very good dancer, and Brenna wasn’t very experienced. She usually depended on her partner to keep her from looking like a total klutz. He stepped on her feet a couple of times, and she stumbled once.

  That didn’t bother her too much, but his groping her butt did. He also unnecessarily brushed her breast a couple of times. His clumsy flirting was barely short of offensive, blatantly making comments about her physical charms and suggesting she should go home with him. When the music ended, she briefly thanked him and turned away.

  He grabbed her arm. “Where are you going, Mademoiselle? We fit together so well. Stay and dance with me.”

  “I’m a bit tired,” Brenna said. “I need to sit for a while.”

  “Oh, no, you cannot be tired. Dance with me and you can rest later while I pleasure you.”

  Taking a deep breath, Brenna said, “I don’t think that’s going to happen, Monsieur. I have no plans to leave with you.”

  Fontaine’s hand tightened on her arm, almost to the point of pain.

  “I do not wish you to go. What, do you think I cannot pleasure a succubus? Do you think I’m too short, perhaps? I assure you, I am not short where it matters.”

  “Please, Monsieur, I don’t wish to make a scene. I’m sure someone else would be glad to dance with you. Please release me.”

  His hand tightened further, and he jerked her toward him. “I do not wish you to go,” he repeated.

  Brenna slapped him. “Sir, you’re offensive, and you’re hurting me.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and turned to walk away from him. She ran into an invisible wall, an air shield. Whirling, she saw his scowling face was red, his eyes bright and focused on her.

  Immediately, she threw a close air shield around herself, inside of his, and threw power to her mental shields. Rebecca, Carly, I think I have a problem. She sent to her Protectors.

  “Do you think you’re too good for me? Putain! O’Donnell chienne!” he yelled at her. The words weren’t in the phrase book Irina had given her, but she figured they weren’t flattering.

  An older man stepped forward. “Stop. There is no dueling here. Take your dispute elsewhere!” He jerked and reeled backward.

  Fontaine sent a thin stream of Neural Disruption toward Brenna, not strongly enough to burn her out, but enough to hurt and do some damage. Her O’Neill shields deflected it. She needed to be careful, there were too many innocent people close. Brenna always needed to be mindful of not revealing too much of her Talents to strangers.

  His air shield disappeared and he hurled an electric bolt toward her. Fontaine might be a jackass, but he was also a powerful telepath who obviously meant her harm.

  Drain him, Rebecca’s thought came through their link.

  Brenna began to drain him, pulling energy from him as fast as she could. It was one weapon completely undetectable to anyone. He threw another electrical bolt and another stronger thread of neural energy. She blocked both and he staggered. His own efforts were helping her to drain him.

  Fontaine’s energy levels dropped abruptly, and she knew someone else was draining him also. He stumbled, swaying like a drunk, then fell.

  Back away, let’s get out of here, Rebecca sent. Trusting her, Brenna began walking backward, keeping her focus on the man on the floor. Allowing some input to filter through her first level shield, she heard Rebecca mentally sending Irina and her Protector out of the hall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Antonia head toward the door holding her daughter’s arm. Her daughter’s friends followed them.

  Several men descended on the man on the floor, checking him over. A couple of them stood and began walking toward Brenna. Rebecca touched her elbow and the two of them continued backing away. Carly and Jeremy circled around behind the men approaching her.

  The way to the door is blocked, Antonia sent to them. Irina is safe. If you need me to clear the way for you, I’m here.

  Brenna, and she was sure every succubus in the place, felt electricity being drained out of the hotel systems. The idea of Antonia unleashing the amount of power she was capable of in that small space was horrifying to think of.

  Sweat trickled down her ribs and Brenna placed her feet carefully. High heels weren’t made for walking backward.

  Suddenly, there were walls around them and she realized Rebecca had steered them into an alcove where the coat check was located. Rebecca stopped, throwing an air shield over the entrance. Brenna’s triple-strength mental shields covered them both. Rebecca stepped in front of her and held out her hands, electricity dancing between her fingers on one hand, a ball of fire in the other. Facing them were at least a dozen men, and none of them looked friendly.

  “There’s no dueling here. You’ve broken the treaty,” a handsome man who looked around forty said with a German accent.

  “Miss O’Donnell has done nothing,” Rebecca replied. “She was attacked and defended herself. If there was a duel, he’d be dead, and he’s unharmed.”

  Brenna couldn’t see Rebecca’s face, but the man who had spoken flinched and took a step back.

  “There’s no need to be hostile. We’re just here to escort you out of here,” he said, his voice quavering a little. His confident arrogance was slipping.

  “If you aren’t from de la Tour, then you have no right to escort us anywhere,” Rebecca said. “I suggest you get the hell out of our way, Herr Stiegler.”

  You know him? Brenna sent.

  I’ve seen his picture. He’s one of Siegfried’s top lieutenants.

  Shit. />
  “I’m afraid you have the advantage of me, Fraulein,” Stiegler said.

  “In more ways than one, Mein Herr. If you don’t get out of the way, I’m leaving here over your dead body,” Rebecca said. “Your choice. Personally, I don’t care, but I’d prefer not to get any blood on my dress.”

  “You’ve taken on more than you want to, Jurgen,” Jeremy said from behind them. He and Carly stood there, faces hard and grim.

  Stiegler’s head whipped around. A small smile played about his lips. “Kallen’s side man,” he said. “Where’s your boss?”

  “On holiday. We have plenty of firepower here, Jurgen. Let the young ladies go or I guarantee we will leave bodies. And yours will be the first to fall,” Jeremy said, his voice level and calm.

  Jeremy, Carly, get the hell out of here. We’ll meet you at the vans, Rebecca sent.

  We’re not leaving without you, Jeremy replied.

  Damnit, don’t argue, Rebecca sent.

  With a shrug, Jurgen moved aside, motioning for the men with him to create a path for Brenna and Rebecca. Brenna leaned over the coat check desk and spoke to the woman cowering behind it. She jumped up, and began gathering their coats. Brenna put hers on and handed several to Rebecca, gathering the rest into her arms.

  “I’m not walking through a gantlet,” Brenna said softly in German. “If you don’t clear our path completely, I’ll have my Protectors clear a path. And if that happens, my grandfather will clear a path all the way to Herr von Ebersberg’s bedroom. O’Donnell does not bow to intimidation. You have overstepped yourself.”

  Her eyes locked on Stiegler’s and the blood drained from his face.

  “Jurgen, I’m not telling you again,” Jeremy said. “You have ten seconds to move before we kill you and everyone with you.”

  “You don’t know how many are with us,” another man said.

  “One hundred sixty-two,” Brenna said, her voice devoid of emotion. “We’ll leave one hundred sixty-two bodies. I don’t know how many of them are involved in this disgraceful scene, but we won’t discriminate. Everyone connected with CBW will die.”