Succubus Ascendant: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 4) (24 page)

Jill stayed with Andrei and a contingent of O’Donnell Protectors. The rest of their force withdrew to Viktor’s estate for the night. Rhiannon and Vladimir accompanied Rebecca and Collin back to the city.

“You really figured all of that out in a few minutes?” Rhiannon asked as they shared a bottle of vodka on the bus.

“There were a lot of possible outcomes to this thing,” Rebecca said. “You have to see the endgame to figure out what the final spin is going to be. With you and Galina going off script, we need to go for the big lie. You’re a telekinetic. Don’t you know how much water weighs? And Galina had to do you one better and freeze the damn water. I envisioned a hammer to lessen casualties. You two used a fucking howitzer to drive a nail.”

~~~

Chapter 17

A woman is like a tea bag - you can't tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water. - Eleanor Roosevelt

“What do you plan to do with the Gorbachev turncoat that led Galina to Irina?” Andrei asked one evening over dinner.

“Turn him into a sock puppet,” Rhiannon said. Vladimir choked on his drink, and Irina broke into giggles.

“And?” Andrei pursued the subject.

“Let him go back to Moscow with his new girlfriend.”

All eyes at the table turned to her.

“You want someone inside, right? Well, does anyone have a better idea?”

A few days later, Irina sat tied to a chair, several shots of vodka in her to make her appear drugged while Galina made a video. She told Sergei that she was Clan Chief now and she needed Gorbachev to stay out of Romanov business. The camera cut to Irina, who tried to mumble something, and then a voice over by Galina saying that Romanov had Sergei’s granddaughter. If he didn’t play ball, Galina would give her to the sharks.

The original purpose of the video wasn’t a concern anymore, but Irina hoped it would draw Sergei out of hiding. Rhiannon’s new ‘boyfriend’, Vasily Lapin, would deliver the disk.

To reinforce the boyfriend perception, after Rebecca implanted a construct and a new set of memories in his mind, Rhiannon had taken Vasily to the bank and emptied his account. Then he’d taken her shopping, where she bought presents, mostly amber jewelry, for Brenna, Morrighan, Rebecca and Lady O’Byrne. She also bought some jewelry and clothes for herself, including a sable coat. She sent the gifts with Rebecca and Collin when they flew back to Ireland with the majority of the Protectors.

“We’re in St. Petersburg,” Rhiannon explained. “I won’t get the same kind of deal on amber in Moscow. Besides, Vasily can afford it, and winter’s coming, so I need a warm coat.”

Vladimir objected to Rhiannon going into Gorbachev with the turncoat.

“What if they figure out that he was on Galina’s payroll? They may take the disk and shoot him in the head,” Vladimir said, continuing the litany of reasons he’d offered for changing the plan.

“So they shoot him,” Rhiannon said. “They aren’t going to shoot me.” She batted her eyes. “I’m just an innocent bimbo he picked up. I have no idea what he’s doing, or who he’s doing it for. I just want to party and he showed me a good time. I’m flexible. If he dies, I’ll let someone else show me a good time.”

“And what if that someone wants you to really show him a good time?” Vladimir asked.

“Why, Donald, are you concerned about my virtue? That’s sweet.”

Watching the exchange, Irina giggled. “It really is sweet. Donald, are you concerned about my virtue, too?”

He cast a disgusted look at her. “I’m not worried about your virtue, something I suspect fled long ago. I’m worried about your safety.”

“Did he just insult me?” Rhiannon asked. “I think he called me a slut.”

Vladimir’s face turned bright red. “I didn’t mean that at all. Dammit, you know that isn’t what I meant.”

They laughed him out of the room. But in the end, he went along with her to Moscow. He won by calling Brenna, who overrode Rhiannon and ordered security on her heir. The rest of the O’Neill Protectors would provide out-of-sight security. Half of Andrei’s Protectors returned to Moscow the day before Rhiannon and Vasily did and restored O’Donnell’s presence in the capitol.

~~~

They booked private compartments on the overnight train from St. Petersburg to Moscow. As soon as they boarded, Rhiannon put Vasily to sleep on one of the bunks. She tried to sleep herself, but was too keyed up. Sending out a tentative mental probe, she found that Vlad/Donald was still awake next door.

She knocked and he slid back the door, dressed only in boxer shorts and holding a pistol.

“I can’t sleep,” she said.

He stepped back and with a wave of his arm invited her in. He had made up one of the two bunks. A paperback book, a classic American science-fiction book translated to Russian, lay open there. She sat on the other bunk.

“And what can I do for you, my lady?” he said, reaching for a bottle of juice and pouring some in a teacup. She nodded at his raised eyebrow, and he filled the other teacup on the small table.

“I just figured that if we were both awake, perhaps we could keep each other company,” she said. “We’ve never really gotten to know each other.” She hoped he didn’t take that the wrong way. His body was even better without clothes, but as tasty as he looked, she wasn’t trying to seduce him.

Flashing her a lop-sided grin, just short of a leer, he plopped down on his bed. “You’re looking for small talk?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I’ve read that in English,” she said, pointing to the book.

“So have I. I was curious to see how well they translated it.”

They talked for almost two hours, telling each other about their lives, their personal histories. She grew up in a small telepathic town in Wales, while he grew up in Belfast during the Troubles. She went to Oxford and he went to the University of Edinburgh. He had been engaged once, but his fiancée had been killed in an automobile accident. She, a bit uncomfortably, admitted that she’d never had a relationship that lasted more than three months. Even then, she hadn’t been very serious about it.

At times, when the conversation flagged, the atmosphere became a bit uncomfortable. He was almost nude, and she wore only an old t-shirt and jogging shorts. It was slightly embarrassing that her nipples had tightened when he first answered the door, and she couldn’t seem to get them to settle down. Her face warmed a bit every time he glanced at them.

“Well, I guess I should try to get some sleep,” she said, standing to go. “Who knows what the hell our day is going to be like.”

“You’d rather sleep with Vasily than stay here?” he teased.

“I think I’m probably safer with Vasily. Good night, Donald.”

As she locked the door to her compartment, she reflected that it wasn’t Donald she was worried about. She didn’t trust herself if she stayed with him. He did things to her that made her feel nervous and tingly and warm in uncomfortable ways. And there was an undeniable charge any time they happened to touch each other, however inadvertently. But it had been a long time since she was comfortable with quick, easy sex.

Undressing, she turned out the light and crawled between the sheets. It seemed only an instant before she heard a soft knock on the door. Donald’s voice softly called, “It’s time to get up. We’re on the outskirts of Moscow.” Glancing at the window, she saw it was morning.

Telekinetically unlocking the door, she slid it open a few inches. Donald stuck his head in. She was sitting up, covered only by the thin sheet, and she saw his eyes light up.

“That telekinetic stuff is neat,” he said. “I could think of a use for it right now, if I had it.”

Her face grew warm and her nipples betrayed her, presenting sudden peaks in the sheet.

“Get out of here and let me get dressed,” she said.

Donald looked at Vasily, still asleep in his clothes on the other bunk. “Why is he privileged to attend the show and I’m not?”

“Do you really want to know? I’m actually going to wake him up and let him watch me. I want good, fresh, real memories in his mind. Hopefully, if anyone reads him to find out information about me, the images will distract them from probing deeper.”

“You don’t trust the construct Rebecca planted?” he asked, his forehead furrowing with sudden worry.

“Yes, but reinforcing the artificial memories we planted won’t hurt anything.”

Donald withdrew and Rhiannon threw back the sheet. Waking her companion, she rose and began choosing her clothes for the day. In the process, she showed Vasily views of her anatomy that only her lovers had ever seen. A lump grew in his trousers, but she ignored it. He was completely under her control and his physiological reaction confirmed that he would react naturally in spite of the construct and the compulsions Rebecca had set in his mind.

After a few minutes, she leaned over him, her breasts bobbing in front of his face. “Why don’t you go to the washroom, use the toilet, and brush your teeth? Straighten yourself up so we can leave the train.”

Obediently, he left the compartment. Following him with her mind, she confirmed that he did exactly as she had ordered. By the time he returned, she was dressed and ready to go. They disembarked with their luggage and walked through the station. Vasily called for a limousine and gave the driver his address.

 Vasily owned a flat in one of the Seven Sisters. The baroque-gothic Stalin-era skyscraper was one of the most prestigious addresses in the city, overlooking the Moskva River and the Kremlin. The flat was spacious by Russian standards and furnished with heavy, nineteenth century elegance. Rhiannon took possession of the master bedroom, clearing closet space by taking all of Vasily’s clothes that she didn’t like and throwing them in the rubbish bin downstairs. Donald was relegated to the guest bedroom.

“You’re going to continue sleeping with him?” Donald asked with a mournful, hurt expression.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone,” she answered. “He’ll sleep on the floor, across the doorway to ensure my safety from sleepwalking marauders. A girl has to protect the tattered remains of her virtue, you know.” She smiled, trying to project a bright, flirty, sickly-sweet countenance.

“I’ve never sleepwalked in my life. Anytime I maraud, it’s entirely intentional,” he said, drawing a laugh from her.

They sent Vasily and the video disk off to talk to his boss. Vasily was a tall, well-built man, handsome in a brutish sort of way. A dapper dresser, he was a mid-level thug in the Gorbachev Clan hierarchy. A member of the KGB when the Soviet Union fell apart, he had been assigned to work for a normal human in St. Petersburg. That official was now President of Russia and Vasily had transitioned into a job for the FSB, the Federal Security Service. His rank was Deputy Section Chief, and he oversaw the President’s security detail. Yuri Gorbachev, his boss, was one of the highest-ranking telepaths in the FSB.

Vasily was fairly intelligent and highly ambitious. However, his two failed attempts at kidnapping Irina in London had not been well received by his superiors. That, combined with the fact he had been missing without contact for a month, worried Rhiannon, and worried Donald even more. It was a major hole in their plan.

Rhiannon rode in Vasily’s mind as he entered the Lubyanka, the infamous headquarters of the Soviet KGB. Seemingly unconcerned, he sought out his boss.

“My, what a pleasant surprise,” Yuri Gorbachev, Sergei’s nephew, said. “I thought you’d defected, or maybe run off with a rich heiress.”

“My apologies,” Vasily said. “I ran into some difficulties in St. Petersburg and was detained.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Yuri thundered.

“I told you, in St. Petersburg. Alexander Romanov has died. The succession battle was very nasty, and every telepath in the city, at least those with any brains, kept their heads down.”

“You’ve been gone for weeks. Don’t tell me that all of the phones in St. Petersburg were blocked.”

At that moment, three men walked into Yuri’s office, men that Vasily recognized, and Rhiannon felt his fear explode in the portions of his mind behind the construct. One of them battered down his shields and took control of his mind. Of course, he only saw the construct. At least for a while, Rebecca’s carefully detailed creation held. It all depended if his interrogators believed what they read there. It became obvious very quickly that they didn’t.

“I think he’s wearing a construct,” one man finally said.

“Get Gennady,” Yuri replied. “We need to get to the bottom of this.”

While they waited for Gennady, Yuri took the video disk and slipped it into a secure reader. When he finished viewing it, he said, “When Gennady gets here, take Vasily to the house in Odintsovo. I’ll be there.” Then he took the disk, put on his jacket, and left.

“Shit!” Rhiannon said. She had been broadcasting what she saw and heard from Vasily, and Vladimir raised an eyebrow.

“I think things are going quite well, don’t you? They read the disk, and Sergei’s Moscow residence is in Odintsovo.”

“Things aren’t going as direly as you predicted,” Rhiannon said. “They haven’t shot him.”

“Yet. Don’t you think we should get out of here?”

“No, they’re preoccupied. They may think about us later, but so far, no one has said anything about checking his flat. Besides, I’m not worried about dodging anyone they might send here.”