“Whatever it is,” Rhiannon said.
“Yes,” he chuckled. “Think about it. Last year, did you even imagine the path you’re currently on? The world has a way of intruding on our fantasies about how it should work. You’re the oldest. Brenna and Rebecca haven’t even reached thirty yet. And you want to know where you’ll be a hundred years from now?”
He placed his hand on hers. “Rhiannon, think about what you did in Russia. A year ago, if you’d asked me or Seamus, the idea that we would have two Russian Clans as our allies would have been laughable. You led an expedition into an exceptionally hostile territory and won a victory that changes the entire landscape. No one could have predicted that path.”
“But I wasn’t a pathfinder. I was follower. Irina found that path.”
“Did she? I was told that you volunteered to go with her. Everyone was surprised at that. What was your interest? You barely knew the girl. And then she was captured. Who drove the effort that rescued her and not only overthrew the Gorbachev Clan, but also captured the Romanov Clan as an ally?”
He took her face between his hands, capturing her eyes with his. “Rhiannon, the Pathfinder doesn’t have to be a visionary, that’s Brenna’s role. The future is nebulous. There are multiple paths to take. Your role is to choose between paths. Whether it is the best path, or the easiest path, doesn’t matter. At each decision point, someone must choose a path. Once done, it’s up to Brenna to choose whether to go there. If she says no, then you’ll look for another until she decides to follow one. At that point, you’ll be presented with new possibilities, because every path has branches. Do you understand? The Pathfinder identifies possibilities. You’ll give Brenna your best advice as to those that look most promising, and those that look most dangerous.”
Standing abruptly, he paced across the room. “Rhiannon, I wish I could tell you something to comfort you. The Pathfinder is always looking, never finding, because time never ends. But that doesn’t mean you won’t find happiness, or contentment.” He whirled, fixing her with a piercing look that made her understand how he had successfully led a Clan for over a century. “Not all of those who change history understand their role. And the points where history is changed are often not seen or understood at the time. The important thing is that you do what you think is right, and leave it to Brenna to make the final choices.”
“Do you think she’ll always choose the right path? Where does Rebecca fit into all this?”
“It doesn’t matter whether she chooses the ‘right’ path,” he said, making air quotes with his fingers around the word ‘right’. Between you and Rebecca, she won’t take a ‘wrong’ path.” Again, the air quotes. “As for Rebecca, she is there to watch Brenna’s back. In her spare time, she’ll watch yours. And since both you and Brenna have some deficiencies in the arena of common sense, and Rebecca has an overabundance of that commodity, I assume she’ll be your anchor to reality. Probably a very outspoken and profane anchor.”
~~~
Chapter 22
He who is unable to live in society, or who has no need because he is sufficient for himself, must be either a beast or a god. - Aristotle
*Brenna,* Collin sent, *the O’Byrne offices in Paris are under attack.*
*Paris? Are you in the command center?* Brenna asked.
*Yes.*
*I’m on my way.*
Thomas O’Neill met her as she entered the security command center in the basement of the sprawling manor house. The room was half the size of a high school gymnasium, packed with computers, television monitors, screens with flashing lights and graphs, and almost fifty people monitoring it all.
“O’Byrne received a message from Paris about ten minutes ago,” he said. “They contacted us and tied us into their communications.”
“What do we know about it?” she asked.
“Not much,” Collin said, looking up from the computer screen he was watching. “We haven’t had time to start integrating the communications systems, so we’re on a relay. Someone in Paris sends a message to Dublin, then it’s relayed to Wicklow, and only after that do we get it.”
“What about our other offices in Paris?” Brenna asked. “Has O’Neill or O’Donnell been attacked?”
“No,” Collin answered. “We’re in contact with both of them, and things are quiet there.”
“Andrew,” Brenna said. “Son of a bitch!”
Then a thought occurred to her.
“Collin, Rebecca’s in Paris with Carlos.”
“Haven’t heard from her. Hang on. There’s another transmission coming in.”
He adjusted the headphones he wore and listened for a moment, then reached over and flipped a switch on the control board in front of him.
Brenna recognized Jared’s voice.
“...went off in the lobby and killed several people. When the Protectors swarmed the area, another bomb went off outside. That was followed by black-clad commando types with automatic weapons and grenades. We don’t know the size of the attacking force or who they are, but the attack is very open and attracting attention. French police are responding.”
“IRA tactics,” Brenna said. “The first bomb attracts police and medical personnel, and the second bomb delivers the major damage.” Collin and Thomas nodded. “I ordered the security force there doubled to two hundred,” Brenna continued.
“There are two hundred Protectors assigned there,” Thomas said. “Devlin, Collin and I hold a brief conference call every morning and exchange our duty rosters and let each other know the status of any operations we’re running.”
“They were hit just after the evening shift change,” Collin said. “There would have been about seventy Protectors on duty. The O’Donnell forces that augmented O’Byrne aren’t housed there, and neither are the O’Byrne Protectors. They just don’t have the facilities for that. It’s a business office. We’ll have almost three hundred people there within half an hour, but that doesn’t help us now.”
Brenna nodded and wandered away. *Rebecca, where are you?*
*In Paris. I’m with Carlos. We’re looking at a building he’s considering buying.*
*The O’Byrne offices have been attacked. Go somewhere you can see a TV. I want to know what’s being broadcast. O’Byrne and O’Donnell Protectors are heading to the scene, but so are the French authorities.*
A “will do” somehow came through the stream of profanity that ran through Rebecca’s mind.
*Whatever you do,* Brenna sent, *I don’t want you anywhere near there. Understand me? There have been two bombings already, and we can’t discount the possibility of more. Rebecca, they’re using IRA tactics.*
*Okay. Damn. The hotel we’re staying at is only a couple of blocks from here. I’ll call your cell when we get there.* Rebecca broke the connection.
Ten minutes later, Brenna’s cell rang.
“Brenna,” Rebecca gasped, “the gendarmes and TV crews showed up and two more bombs went off.”
“Inside or outside?” Brenna asked.
“Outside. Lots of casualties, total chaos. There was also automatic weapons fire from the building into the street. They’re shooting innocent civilians. The authorities are evacuating buildings for a three hundred meter radius. Gotta go. Need to contact O’Donnell HQ here.”
The phone went dead.
“What?” Collin said.
Brenna updated him and Thomas. Their profanity at the news rivaled Rebecca’s earlier. Brenna’s phone rang again.
“Yeah?” she answered it without looking to see who the caller was.
“Brenna,” Jared said, “I detailed Protectors to secure all the family and other high-value targets, but we can’t find RB.”
“What do you mean you can’t find her?”
“She was here a few minutes ago. As soon as she heard about the attack, she came here and then disappeared. We’re searching everywhere.”
“Jared, where is ‘here’?”
“The security command center. She hung a
round for a couple of minutes, but I don’t know when she left. No one’s seen her and we can’t find her. I had people check, and no one has taken a vehicle out of the estate. Is Teleportation one of her Gifts?”
“No, she’s not a teleport. Jared, is Brian in that building in Paris?”
“As far as we know, yes. I’ve tried to contact him and failed. Rhiannon told me he was there before she disappeared. I think she was talking with him when the second bomb went off.”
“Shit.” Brenna thought furiously. “Jared, where is Lord O’Byrne?”
“In France, as far as I know. Devlin spoke with him a few minutes ago.”
“Check the library,” Brenna said, “or maybe my office—Lord O’Byrne’s office. Call me if you find her.”
Brenna hung up and sent a spear thread to Rhiannon but was blocked. Frustrated, she tried to contact Lord O’Byrne. She found him, but he blocked her. If either of them was standing in front of her, she probably had the power to force communication, but it would be difficult.
“Have Shia contact me if you need me for anything,” Brenna said, and disappeared, leaving Collin staring at the air where his lover had stood an instant before.
“Where did she go?” Thomas asked.
“If I had to venture a guess,” Collin said, shaking his head, “I’d guess Paris.”
~~~
Rhiannon had been in the O’Byrne library reading a typed manuscript entitled A History of Clan O’Byrne by Maureen O’Neill O’Byrne. Rebecca had told her Maureen had written a similar history of Clan O’Donnell.
The general alert, broadcast by Devlin, telling everyone on the estate of a security lockdown, sent her flying to the basement command center. Seeing Jared, she approached him and asked, “What’s happening?”
“A bomb went off at our offices in Paris,” he answered. “I’m trying to figure out what the hell’s going on.”
Rhiannon sent a spear thread to Brian O’Byrne. *What’s going on there? Are you all right?*
*Someone managed to get a bomb into our lobby. I don’t know any ...*
*Brian?*
*Bloody hell! Another explosion just outside. Rhi, I have to go. I’ll let you know when I find out something.* Brian broke the connection.
“Jared, Brian said there was a second explosion.”
Jared spun from the console he was watching. “How do ... Oh, you have the Gift. A second one? Damn.” He raised his voice, “Someone get me Collin Doyle at O’Neill. And get hold of the O’Donnell offices in Paris and London. There’s been a second bomb.”
The command center turned into a beehive of activity. Rhiannon watched them for a minute. She didn’t see anything that she could help with, so she slipped out of the room, hurrying through the halls to the library. On the way, she called Lord O’Byrne.
*My Lord? There’s been a bombing at our offices in Paris.*
*Yes, I’ve just been informed.*
*I need to get to Paris. May I trouble you for a ride?* She tried to keep her panic out of her transmission.
*I’m not sure that’s a good idea,* Lord O’Byrne answered.
*I’m going to Paris. If I take a plane, it might be too late. But I’m going just the same.*
*Where are you?*
She trotted into the library and shut the door, then sent an image of the empty space in front of her. Lord Fergus O’Byrne appeared seconds later.
“Do you have a landing spot in Paris?” he asked.
“Yes, my mother’s flat in Montmartre,” she said, sending another image.
“I still don’t think this is wise. What do you think you’ll be able to do?”
“I’m not sure. I’ll figure that out when I get there. I hate to sound egotistical, but there isn’t anyone in Paris who can do what I can. Do you want me to ask Brenna for a ride?”
“Oh, hell no.” He took her by the elbow and the world disappeared. She blinked her eyes and looked around at her mother’s familiar home.
“Do come in,” her mother said. “And to what do I owe this sudden visit?”
“I need your car keys,” Rhiannon said.
“So you can jump into that mess in Le Marais? Not a chance,” her mother responded, waving at the television set. The O’Byrne building filled the screen. The front of the building had a gaping hole where the front doors should be, and debris filled the street. Bodies lay on the front portico and in the street. A commentator was saying that there were reports of two explosions.
The camera panned the scene, showing gendarmes, police vehicles, ambulances, and television news crews. Occasional flashes of light could be seen through the windows of the building and the sound of gunfire could be heard from inside.
An explosion, with smoke and flying debris, suddenly erupted in front of the camera and the screen went black. At least half a minute passed, and a new image appeared on the screen—a studio shot of newscasters sitting at a desk.
“It appears there has been another explosion,” the man on the screen said, then paused and seemed to be listening to something the audience couldn’t hear. “I’m being told there have been two additional explosions,” he said. “We seem to have lost communication with our camera crew. We’ll return to this story when we have more information.”
“I need the damned keys,” Rhiannon said, leaping across the room and grabbing her mother’s bag.
“Morwyn,” Fergus said, touching her mother’s arm, “I’ll go with her.”
“No, you won’t,” Rhiannon said, holding the keys up in triumph. “Your arthritis will slow me down. Besides, I might need you to give me a ride out.”
She drew her mother into a hug, and then hugged Fergus. “I’ll be careful. I promise.”
Morwyn snorted. “If you are, it will be the first time. Fergus, give her your coat.”
Nodding, he took off the black jacket he was wearing. “Protector issue,” he said. “Bullet proof. It’s a little heavy, but it will also help you blend in.” He nodded to the window where twilight was quickly fading into darkness. A bolt of lightning split the night.
She took the coat and rushed out into the rain. It seemed like an eternity since she’d heard from Brian, but her watch showed it had only been fifteen minutes since the first report of an explosion had reached Wicklow.
~~~
Broadcasting aversion at other drivers, Rhiannon drove as fast as she could and still keep the car on the rain-slicked roads. She found a radio station broadcasting from the scene of the attack. The latter two explosions had occurred away from the building, killing dozens and wounding many more. The gendarmes and news crews had taken the brunt of the casualties.
The radio said that all buildings within three hundred meters of the O’Byrne building were being evacuated, and the authorities were keeping everyone well back of the building. Along with the second set of explosions, several gunmen inside the building had sprayed the street with automatic weapons fire, killing and wounding even more. The reporters on the radio traded speculations as to which group of terrorists was responsible.
She parked the car on a side street and began jogging toward the O’Byrne building. It was raining steadily, and she used Aerokinesis to create an umbrella. Soon, she reached the edge of the security zone the authorities had set up. Forcing down the panic rising inside her and blurring the minds of those around her, she worked her way past the gendarmes. The streets leading toward the building were almost deserted, with occasional groups of gendarmes. Many of them were wearing tactical assault gear, and their fear hammered against her.
Le Marais is one of the oldest parts of Paris, and the O’Byrne building had originally been a noble’s palace. Built in the sixteenth century and six stories high, it covered a city block. Two wide boulevards bordered it at the front and back. On one side was a narrow street, barely wide enough for a car, and on the other side an alley that carried only foot traffic.
Slipping past more pockets of heavily armed gendarmes and Protectors, she came at last within sight of the
building. Helicopters clattered overhead, shining spotlights on the scene. Gunfire could be heard inside and those strange flashes of light she had seen on the television sometimes lit up the interior. The gunfire and fireballs were oddly reassuring, telling her that the attackers were still meeting resistance. She reached out with her mind and found Brian O’Byrne.
*Brian? Are you all right?* she sent.
*Yes,* he answered, *but getting tired. I’m not sure how much longer we can hold out. We’re badly outnumbered.*
*What’s going on? How many are there?*
*Andrew hit us with about three hundred men. They’re killing anyone they find. About forty of us are holed up on the fifth floor and we’ve beaten them off twice already. Got to go, Rhi. It looks as though they’re coming for us again.*
He broke the connection.
She slipped around the gendarmes’ perimeter until she was on the side with the small alley. Broadcasting confusion to blur people’s minds, she leaped up and raced into the alley. Halfway across the boulevard, she thought she heard someone call her name, and then attempt to contact her mind. She recognized the mental signature of an O’Byrne Protector, a friend of hers, but she ignored him.
Crouching in the dark alley, she reached out for the minds of the helicopter pilots. One by one, she told all three to fly away from the building and shine their spotlights in a different direction.
Expanding her air shield so that it completely surrounded her, she used her Telekinesis to push off from the ground. Rising into the air, she looked toward the mouth of the ally. A lone Protector stood there, watching her. A flash of lightning showed his face, the twin of the man across the street who had called to her.
She saw Davin shake his head. *Take me with you.*
*I can’t. You’ll slow me down,* she replied, and saw him slump against the wall in resignation.
As she rose past the parapet, she saw several gunmen on the roof. A bolt of lightning split the air, backlighting her for Andrew’s men. She reached for the lightning, drew it into her, and channeled it toward the rooftop. A second explosion of thunder joined that from the lightning itself.
Succubus Ascendant: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 4) Page 24
