Succubus Ascendant: An Urban Fantasy (The Telepathic Clans Saga Book 4) by BR Kingsolver Page B

massive blast of Neural Disruption.”
    “But we’re still three hundred yards from the house,” Rebecca protested.
    “I’m aware of that,” the Druid answered.
    “Holy Goddess,” Rebecca breathed.
    Another Druid reached them and extended her hand to touch the fallen woman. Rhiannon’s eyelids fluttered and then she opened her eyes, looking at Rebecca.
    “Well, I’m not dead,” Rhiannon said, “because you’re no angel.”
    She turned her head and smiled at the redheaded Druid. “But you might be.”
    The redhead laughed. “Nay, not in this life. I’m just Emily. That was a pretty impressive display.”
    “Stupid,” Rhiannon said. “I got angry.”
    “You have the Krasevec Gift,” the other Druid said, referring to what was commonly called Distance Communication. It enhanced a telepath’s other Gifts. “But that was still impressive.”
    “She’s an impressive woman,” Rebecca said.
    “How many ...?” Emily asked, her eyes flicking to Rebecca.
    “Fifteen Gifts,” Rebecca answered.
    “Goddess,” the other Druid breathed.
    Rhiannon struggled to a sitting position. “Hell, what are we sitting here for? Let’s go see what a mass murder looks like.”
    “There might still be ...” Rebecca started, but the look on Rhiannon’s face stopped her.
    “No, I can’t feel anyone,” Rhiannon said. The Druids helped her to her feet.
    Protectors swarmed around them, weapons at the ready and air shields deployed. They walked toward the manor house, passing the machine gun emplacements and dozens of bodies on the way. When they reached the house, Rebecca motioned to the shattered double doors.
    “I shaped an air shield as a battering ram,” Rhiannon said. “I was going to tear the house down with air and Telekinesis, but then I realized I didn’t have to go to all that trouble.”
    “How strong is Brenna going to be?” Rebecca murmured.
    “Stronger than me already. Stronger than Seamus O’Donnell, stronger than Niall,” Rhiannon said, referring to the legendary High King from whom the telepathic aristocracy, O’Neill, O’Donnell, O’Conner, O’Byrne, and all the rest, traced their heritage.
    “Niall is in your memories?”
    “Yes, he was in my and Corwin’s direct lineage. He’s the only one in my memories who had all four Rare Gifts. Except Brenna, of course.”
    They walked through the house. Bodies of people lay everywhere, twisted into grotesque positions, along with a few dogs and a cat. Rebecca saw a mouse lying in a corner. The Protectors silently fanned out to the upper floors. The silence was eerie, but no one seemed in the mood to break it.
    The task force leader approached Rebecca.
    * My men report three hundred seventy-two bodies in the house and surrounding area. We haven’t found anyone who survived.*
    Rebecca nodded. * I didn’t expect survivors. I should say that she didn’t expect any survivors.*
    *She’s Lord O’Neill’s granddaughter?*
    *Yes.*
    *She has the power of a Clan Chief. She’s a worthy heir.*
    *She didn’t want it, so he chose Brenna instead.*
    He nodded.
    “I need to go to the airport,” Rhiannon said.
    “What? Which airport?”
    “The Ayr airport. I need to go to Belfast.”
    “Why?” Rebecca asked.
    “Because that’s where Hugh is.”
    A hundred men were detailed to take care of the bodies, and the rest of the force gathered to leave. As Rhiannon approached the van, the task force leader stepped toward her and took her elbow.
    “My Lady,” he said, bowing his head in respect, and helped her into the van.
    “What was that about?” Rhiannon asked Rebecca.
    “An acknowledgement of your heritage,” Rebecca answered. “A gesture of respect to Corwin’s granddaughter.”
    Rhiannon stared at her. “You’re joking, right?”
    “No, I’m not joking. That kind of display of power is what they expect of the aristocracy. You’ve probably carved a permanent place in O’Neill family lore today.”
    “I’m not an aristocrat.”
    Rebecca