The breath slammed out of her lungs as the thick, bloody mud rushed into her mind, and for a moment she couldn't remember how to breathe properly. There was the terrifying sensation of being dragged under, of gasping, desperate for air, pulling in filthy, oily muck instead, so that it filled every corner of her mind and packed her lungs so solid there was no hope of breathing. She was drowning-drowning-and she wouldn't be able to get back. It happened too fast; her quarry was too strong.
She felt a mouth move against hers. Feel me, baby. I'm with you. Warm breath pushed into her lungs. She inhaled, took air in to push out some of the thick goo coating her insides. Another breath. He can't have you. I'll breathe for both of us.
She could do this! She accepted another stream of air, shuddering with effort, forcing it into her lungs, concentrating on pushing past that first wave of violent energy that threatened to consume her mind. Snake couldn't have her because she had her own personal guardian angel. Kadan Montague was the strongest man she'd ever known. And he was on her side-not only on it, but at it, breathing in and out, sharing air with her.
She found him there in her mind, and a tiny part of her held tight to him while she allowed the familiar expansion to push her own spirit out, to make room for the beast pouring into her, threatening to devour her.
He was eager for the kill. Couldn't wait. He wanted them alive, lasting a long time while he hurt them. The places he'd been where he'd discovered appreciation of his talents were long gone, but now he could have fun again. This cool opportunity brought back memories of the tunnel in Vietnam where he'd trapped the two farmers. They'd lasted two days. Glorious fun. Both were babbling when he ended them-and he almost hadn't. He'd been so tempted to leave their raw, bloody bodies for the rats to find, but he hadn't, and he'd thought of that ever since. Maybe this time-and he'd set up a camera where no one would find it just so he could go back later and watch them being devoured alive. Such fun. The pleas were starting, growing stronger, although Tansy tried to keep the victims away for just a little longer.
She needed to escape the snake and look for the other one, the master behind the puppets. All powerful killers, tied to strings. He pulled-they danced. The masculine whisper grew stronger. She found the thread, faint but there. The master. She had him now. She was an elite tracker and he wouldn't escape no matter how subtle he was. She blocked out the surge of oily sludge that was Snake spilling around her and kept on track. This was what-or who-had been eluding her. Elation filled her as she targeted the thread.
A hint of satisfied amusement. No one ever would know. Genius surrounded him. Psychics, all of them, but they didn't suspect, didn't have a clue. It was his orchestra, his play, and he was the maestro conducting his performers to play their instruments with such flair. He fed the egos and raked in the cash. Millions, with millions more to be made. Untraceable millions and all for him.
Tansy struggled to stay on the thread. It was so faint, so subtle alongside Snake's violent need for pain. The victims grew louder, as they always did, demanding she recognize them. See them. Give them justice. She shook her head in an attempt to dislodge the wailing. The accusations. The oily muck swirled with enjoyment, building to a crescendo. Ah, just give me all night with these three. Not as strong as the ones in the tunnel, but I don't have as long. He would let the rats feast and he'd come back later to see his handiwork and enjoy the entertainment. Screams. Pleading. Begging. Tansy shook her head again, stretching for that subtle thread. The master didn't kill, so the violence edged him out, but he was there, imprinted in the ivory. Seeing it. Part of it. That subtle weave of influence feeding the killers at each site. She just had to keep pulling at the thread to unravel the mystery.
She knew him now, knew she'd seen this trail before, so light she'd missed it in the first two murder scenes, but he'd been there. How was it that he was with each one? Had he been on the West Coast too? Was he present? Was he…
She felt Kadan's sudden alertness, his warning system roaring in full-blown alarm. Icy fingers of fear crept down her spine. Something moved-something alive in the midst of all the blood, in the midst of all the victims. Something that was bloated and shadowy like a giant spider at the center of a web. She drew back as the shadow turned, and she knew it was as aware of her as she was of it. Terror poured into her as it-he-blinked his eyes and looked at her. For one instant there was a flicker of astonishment followed by grudging respect, almost camaraderie. He wasn't afraid. She got the impression of smug amusement.
Hello, beautiful. Who do we have here?
Everything in her froze. She couldn't move or speak, paralyzed by the knowledge that she was leaving just as many tracks as he was. The puppet master. And he could stalk her just as she pursued him.
You're a dead man. Kadan's voice was low, a whip of menace, startling both Tansy and the puppet master.
Tansy felt Kadan's hand on hers, prying her fingers open, ripping the ivory snake from them and flooding her mind with his ownership, his strength and his resolve Kadan, the killer, icy cold and without mercy, delivering a fact, not a warning, even as he shielded her.
She felt the startled fear of the carver of the ivory figures, quickly masked. And then all awareness was gone. The puppet master had snapped the thread and was gone from her mind.
Kadan dug his fingers into Tansy's upper arms. She still had that faraway opaque look. She was pale, icy cold, her body trembling. Fear rolled off her in waves.
"It's all right, baby. I'm right here. You're safe."
She shook her head. "I'm not. He saw me."
Kadan drew her into his body, his arms tight around her. "We saw him. We can find him, Tansy. No one even knew he existed. Hell, if I hadn't been there with you, I might not have believed it."
He spoke aloud in a cool, calm voice, mostly to bring her wholly back to him.
"I've never run into anyone who can do what I do. He's a tracker."
Kadan was already aware of that and the ramifications of it. Whoever had realized she was on his trail was going to have to go on the offensive and hunt her. Kadan had felt the man's shock and then the sudden interest in Tansy. The puppet master had recognized female and a bright shining light. She didn't have violent energy, but she was a magnet for it. Kadan didn't want her to know how disturbed he was over finding the puppet master, as Tansy had dubbed him.
"Yes he appears to be a tracker." He hadn't known they existed until he'd found Tansy and realized exactly what she could do. He kept his tone mild, realizing she was really afraid.
"Not just a tracker, Kadan," she corrected, "An elite tracker. I left footprints all over those scenes. If he accesses them, he'll find me there."
"It will be a faint trail, probably thinner than the one he left behind. In any case, he won't be able to identify you any more than we can him."
The puppet master had been all too curious about her, all too aware of her as being his equal. That would arouse his fascination, and that was the last thing Kadan wanted.
"Come on, baby, let this go for this evening. We have to plan a rescue." He needed to divert her attention to give himself time to think about the best way to protect her.
She shook her head. "I have to give you details before I'm all the way back."
Her response unraveled the knots in his belly. It hadn't been as bad this time. The short times she was slipping her exercises in, even a few minutes at a time, seemed to be helping. Their connection grew stronger with each time he shared her mind, and she was turning to him more and more without realizing it, allowing him to strengthen her barriers while she worked. It offered her a little more protection to lessen the adverse affects of both the killer and the victims on her unprotected brain.