Murder Game

by Christine Feehan

  Blade laughed, the sound wholly evil, and Tansy's stomach lurched. She would have problems getting his vile imprint out of her head. The stain was thick and intrusive, coating the walls of her mind and finding every niche and crack, until it seeped beneath the door where the other voices wailed to be let loose.

  Look for the other one, Kadan murmured, his voice a breath of fresh air, like a cool breeze running through her brain.

  Tansy made an effort to push the evil Blade to the back of her mind, ignoring his insistence on sharing his handiwork with her. His voice receded a bit, allowing her to find the lighter tracks buried beneath his thick, oily presence. The puppet master. There he was. She had to be careful, very cautious not to alert him to her presence. She tried to keep her touch light, but she'd never had to worry about her own back trail before when she'd tracked.

  She drew another deep breath into her lungs, fighting to keep her stomach from churning. She leaned against Kadan and drew his masculine scent into her lungs. For a moment her world righted again, as she breathed him in, the clean outdoor spice of him. Blade receded a bit more, his voice dimming, and she seized the thread that was the puppet muster.

  The impressions she received from objects such as this one often seemed like a giant spiderweb, thread after thread wrapped intricately around one another until the killer and victim were bound together and it was difficult to tell the threads apart. The puppet master had carved the game pieces, leaving a great deal of himself in the ivory long before he'd given them to the players and he'd left his own threads. They were light and subtle, but they permeated the entire web.

  In all the years she'd tracked killers, none of the threads had been attached to a mind. There was no way to back-track and find them; she had to piece together information until she received a large enough picture to get the killer. She wasn't certain how the puppet master was still attached, but he had found her particular thread and back-tracked. She had to be very careful to step lightly and cause no vibration of her own to warn him she was seeking him again.

  She allowed the killer and his victim to wail and gnash around her, as she waded through the blood and gore to examine each thread until she found the strongest impression of the puppet master. She matched the flow in her mind to that subtle energy, taking care that there was no signal as she examined it. Yeah. He was there all right. She just couldn't quite get him. Without hesitation, she closed that breath of a gap between her skin and ivory.

  Heat seared her palms. The screams of the victim nearly shattered her. The killer was so strong she had the impression of him bursting through the door, his mouth stretched into a grin, his face shadowy, but there was no facial hair and no mask. The woman fell backward, trying to crawl away as he loomed over her. Tansy jerked herself away from the sight, trying not to hear or see, but looking for the shiny radial that formed the support of the web. It was several strands thick, the shiny primary thread, from the handling and carving of the knife.

  The notches were made with care, each one exact and polished as per request. Idiot smug bastard wants the world to see how scary he is, but he's a child wanting attention, wanting to be feared when he should be hiding. They'll catch this one first, openly showing his kills on his game piece. And he'll turn on his friends because he really isn't so tough. He doesn't like women, but he despises men, mostly because he's afraid of their strength.

  Tansy breathed away the thoughts the puppet master had while carving. Her fingers stroked over the blade, trying to pick up the puppet master's essence, not his thoughts on the killer. A desk. He sat at a desk, stacks of paper all around him. She had the impression of movement, as though others flowed around his desk or were near it. The sound of muted voices. A telephone ringing. She caught a glimpse of a leg clad in a uniform. A military base. He had to work at a military base.

  She breathed through her mouth, trying to keep from smelling the blood that thickened around her mind as she concentrated on her prey. The killer wanted to show off, terrifying the woman deliberately. Tansy shook her head, trying to rid herself of his evil nature. There was no conflict in him, only an eagerness to appear larger and more terrifying than anyone else. He wanted the world to fear him, thinking that would get him the respect he deserved.

  She shivered, pushing the killer away from her to grab at the anchoring thread. The puppet master, so the opposite of the killer. He wanted no fame or recognition. He pulled the strings and made the others dance. If they were caught, he could walk away, no ties whatsoever to the killings. His concept, his handpicked killers, and no one knew, not even Whitney. His bank account grew and the homicidal maniacs had their fun. It was all a nice little game any way you looked at it.

  Tansy held her breath. He sat at a desk, his clothes impeccable, even the pleat of his trousers exact. He had a strong physique, took good care of himself. His hair was trimmed short and he wore glasses, which made him look distinguished, but not handsome. He had to take care with his image that no one focused on his appearance one way or the other.

  "Drop it, baby," Kadan hissed, alarmed. "You're too close." His hands closed hard over hers, prying at her fingers to release the ivory knife.

  She could almost smell the puppet master. The sounds of his world crowded in, and if she could just catch that elusive scent. It smelled like . . .

  Cinnamon.

  "Shit! Damn it, he's found you." Kadan dragged her up, knocking her hand against the table in an effort to dislodge the game piece. Her eyes had gone all the way opaque. She was deep in a trance, caught in another world.

  The puppet master turned his head, removing his glasses as he did so. She found herself staring at pale blue eyes. Shiny eyes.

  Hello, beautiful. You took the bait and came to visit me again. I'm delighted to meet you. He held up a file with her name on it. I've been reading about you. Such a gorgeous girl. Too bad you let those sick bastards get to you. Are you feeling better now? The voice was pitched low, solicitous. He believed he was stronger than she was, that he could control her too.

  Kadan popped open the tin of Altoids Gator had tossed onto the front seat of the car, and he shoved one into his mouth. He caught Tansy's chin and ruthlessly brought his mouth down on hers, his tongue demanding entry, sweeping inside to claim her. She was lost in the labyrinth of a spider's web, and he needed something stronger to bring her out. The only thing he could think of was him and the way he showed love. Feeling desperate, he kissed her, pouring everything he was into that kiss. His personality, such that it was, dominant and controlling, ruthless and dangerous, protective and loving her with every fiber of his being. He shared the taste of cinnamon, the wild call between them. You belong to me. He can't have you. It was a command, hard and firm, demanding absolute obedience. Come to me now.

  No! You fuck. She's mine. The puppet master screamed the words in Tansy's mind, trying to hold her to him, his web of threads wrapping her up in a cocoon.

  Tansy tasted cinnamon and heard the demand in Kadan's voice. There was no way to defy him or ignore him. This was Kadan at his most dominating, his tone promising swift retaliation if she didn't listen. She shivered and reached for him. The moment she did, the sticky hold on her loosened. She felt Kadan's strength yanking her to him, his mouth hard and aggressive. Then she felt his hands on her, the force of the blow against the table.

  Drop it now, baby. Drop that fucking thing now.

  Don't you dare! The puppet master lost his smooth edge and snapped his own command, two dominants determined to control her.

  No matter how rough his hands, how hard his voice, Kadan's mouth was tender, loving her. Craving her. Needing her. Nothing else mattered. She became aware of the ivory piece digging into her palm, the cries of the victim, the killer mocking the woman as he gutted and lifted her, still alive, to the meat hook overhead. She heard the insidious whisper of the puppet master, calling to her. And then Kadan flooded her mind, filled her with--him.

  Strong arms. Broad shoulders. Heavily muscled chest. Th
e scent of the outdoors and danger. His mouth, sensual or cruel. His eyes filled with love and desire. She leapt, throwing herself to him, giving him everything she was, turning her back on everything else in her life until there was only Kadan, trusting him to catch her.

  Kadan watched the ivory piece fall to the table as he wrapped his arms around Tansy, preventing her limp body from hitting the floor. Blood leaked from her ears, mouth, and nose. He'd expected that, but not from her eyes. She was hemorrhaging internally and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Hell, he'd probably broken her hand trying to break the seal of the tracker. He could see it was already swelling and turning color. Her palm was imprinted with the blade, the details etched into her skin.

  He lifted her, cradling her high against his chest, detesting that he had been the one to bring her back to this life. Nearly running, he took her through the house to the bedroom they shared, placing her carefully on the bed.

  "Tansy. Wake up, baby. I'm afraid to let you sleep." He didn't know how powerful the elite tracker was, or even if he could find her like this, but the voices were still trapped in her mind and that meant there was every chance the puppet master was there as well. "Come on, honey, open your eyes for me."

  Kadan soaked a washcloth and wiped the trickling blood from her face and ears. He had the pills for her headache as well as a glass of water. This was going to be a bad one. She was shivering continually and when he touched her mind, he found chaos instead of awareness.

  "All right, baby. It's going to be all right." He said it more to comfort himself than her. He sank down onto the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms, wanting to surround her, wanting her to breathe him into her body. He rocked her gently. "Wake up for me. Open your eyes."

  She remained limp, although tremors rippled through her body repeatedly. He lifted her swollen hand, examining it carefully to see if any of the bones were broken. Ordinarily he could open her hand easily, but when she was in her hypnotic tracking state, her pressure points didn't react as readily as he would like. If they continued, he would have to figure out some way to get rid of the object she was reading without injuring her.

  He turned her hand over and opened her fingers to examine her palm. The details of the knife were pressed deep, but there was no burn, just the imprints as if she'd been holding it so hard her skin had picked up the impressions--and he didn't want them there. Kadan used the pad of his thumb to rub gentle caresses back and forth over the knife etched into her palm. The bristles were hard, but velvet soft, and he was careful to keep the sticky side from touching her skin, wanting only to soothe her.

  Something moved in her mind and she winced, but he was there first, standing guard, standing in front of her. He would have to insist she do more exercises to strengthen her barriers, especially now, with the puppet master actively hunting her. Their enemy knew who she was. And he would have the details of her life, including the names and address of her parents. Fortunately Don and Sharon Meadows were under guard, but the man might try to find them, using his military contacts.

  Tansy stirred, the heavy fringe of lashes fluttering. Her stomach lurched and her muscles tightened beneath his hand. Blood trickled from her nose again and she shuddered. "My head." She mouthed the words rather than spoke them aloud.

  "I've got your medicine right here." He held the pills to her lips and then, half sitting her up against his chest, held the water for her.

  Tansy swallowed with her eyes closed tight. "It hurts worse this time and it's growing stronger. I'm in for a bad one. Will you make certain the drapes are closed and there's no light in here?"

  "Is it safe?" He didn't want the puppet master visiting her in her sleep. Was it even possible? He doubted if she knew, but it worried him.

  She was shaking and turned her face away from him, not wanting him to see her so sick and vulnerable. She was afraid to be alone with the voices in her head, afraid if he left her he'd take his shield with him, but she didn't ask him to stay.

  He leaned close to her, his lips against her ear. "You don't have to ask me to stay, Tansy. I'll always be here." He stretched out beside her and pulled her close, pillowing her head on his shoulder, his arms holding her. "Go to sleep." He brushed kisses in her hair. "Don't dream, Tansy, just sleep. I won't leave you."

  CHAPTER 15

  Tansy was back in the swirling, chaotic world of pure energy. She loved it and hated it, drawn back in spite of herself time and again to a world no one else shared. When it was good, it was paradise, all stars and floating on a sea of happiness, a kind of euphoria unlike anything she'd known--except maybe sex with Kadan. When it was bad, it was the thing of nightmares, blood and gore and vicious, evil sickness.

  She reached for the stars, but knew she'd missed again. She'd been doing that for years now, missing paradise and grabbing hold of hell with both hands. Blood poured into the sky and seeped through the ground, rising like the tide, so thick there was no way to swim and keep her head out of it. Hundreds of heads bobbed with hers, eyes wide with terror, mouths gaping open as they silently screamed. She wondered if she looked the same, desperate to keep from drowning in the red muck.

  And then the volume turned on, and she could hear the screaming, feel it vibrating through her bones. She clenched her teeth and shook her head as fingernails scraped at her skin and bony hands clutched at her arm. Just below the surface she could see a woman looking at her through the murky red veil, her eyes pleading for mercy. Tansy clenched her teeth and reached through the sludge to take hold of the woman's arm. She pulled and pulled--pulled until she felt her arms were being torn out of their sockets, but she couldn't budge the woman.

  She steeled herself and dove, head down through the lake of blood, diving deep in an effort to find what was anchoring the woman below the surface. Something bit at her ankle and she looked down. The woman was tied to a round cylinder of metal, left alive to stare toward the surface and safety until the air ran out in her lungs.

  Tansy looked around her, the bloody water so murky she could barely make out the other bodies, all standing straight, eyes raised toward the surface that eluded them by no more than a few inches, all held down by wire tied to their ankles. Fish ate at their flesh as if they were swimming through a drive-through sushi bar.

  She choked. The air exploded out of her lungs and she kicked her way to the surface, her head bursting through the oily sludge, gasping for air, screaming, fighting as hands tried to drag her back down.

  You can't get away now. The whisper was a soft taunt that ran through her mind. She recognized that voice. She fought harder, crying now, pummeling the force holding her down, desperate to get away.

  You're safe. You aren't drowning in blood, baby, you're safe with me. Kadan's voice slipped into her mind and then he was there, filling up every part of her soul until he was the very air around and in her.

  She realized she was pounding at his chest and kicking blankets onto the floor, and she made herself stop. Her own cries echoed in her ears, and she stopped that too, taking in great gulps of air in an effort to calm herself. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Kadan." She pressed her face against his chest.

  He rained kisses over the top of her head and stroked one hand down the length of her hair while he held her tight against him. "There's no reason for you to be sorry."

  "I can't save any of them."

  He swallowed hard. "They're already dead, Tansy. Long dead before you ever touch the object that holds the violent energy. They're gone and no one can save them. All we can do is to try to stop their killers from murdering again."

  "Frog tied her just below the surface of the water so she could see freedom, but couldn't reach it. There were several people, like a colony of them tied down just like that. I saw a cylinder, like an air tank, and there was a logo on it, only it wasn't me seeing the actual logo. It was him, Frog, he was whistling as he prepared an air tank, grinding the logo from the side of the tank." She pressed her face closer to him, trying to crawl inside o
f him to escape her own mind.

  Kadan stroked her hair several times in an attempt to soothe her. "How did you access Frog when you were handling Blade's piece?"

  Tansy's voice receded, her mind clouding even with Kadan firmly in it. "The puppet master was thinking about him when he carved Blade's piece. He doesn't like Blade, but has a certain empathy for Frog." Her voice trailed off and she began to rub at her arms. "I have to get it off of me." She began to struggle, trying to wriggle away from him, rubbing harder at her arms. "Oh God. I have to get it off of me."

  Kadan held her at arm's length, inspecting her as she writhed away from him. She fought in earnest, tearing at her skin, scrubbing at her breasts and belly, scratching and rubbing frantically.

  "Help me. Why aren't you helping me? Hurry. Get it off of me." A sob welled up in her voice. She choked.

  "Tansy, you're safe," he repeated. "There's nothing on you."

  She erupted into violence, punching and kicking, trying to shred her clothes, tearing long scratches in her arms. He caught both wrists in one hand and pinned them together while she fought like a wildcat. He used the weight of his body, not wanting to risk hurting her, but she was gone again, her eyes sliding from awareness to opaque. Once again calmness receded a little to let fear slide in. He didn't want her anywhere near the puppet master in her condition.

  "Tansy, look at me." He used his most commanding, his most compelling voice. For a moment she went still, her gaze locking with his. "What's all over you?"

  "Blood." The one word was chilling.

  His heart nearly stopped. He could hear the voices in her head screaming, the victims pleading, the sound of their sobs. Over the top of the dead came the taunting laughter of the murderers, so many of them, their vile sickness spreading like a cancer.

  She began to squirm again, her breath coming in ragged gasps, tears welling up. "Why won't you help me? I didn't do this." She flung her head back and forth in denial.