Murder Game (GhostWalkers, #7)(31)

“I’m going to teach you a few exercises to help you strengthen your defenses against anything invading your mind.”

She frowned and sat up. “What exercises?”

“There are things you can do, practice, to help filter things out. Like meditation.”

“I do that already. It’s never helped.”

Kadan stood up and pulled her with him. “This is going to help. Sit at the table.”

She studied his face for a long time before she complied, taking the seat opposite him.

Kadan turned out to be all military and very serious as he showed her the mental exercise of building a wall in her mind, one brick at a time. It was far different from the simple mental image she employed of a door keeping back the voices and images in her head. The barrier had to be built and become second nature. When she wavered, or got it wrong, Kadan barked orders at her like a drill sergeant.

“You’re giving me a headache,” she finally said, glaring at him. “And I’m not under your stupid command.”

His jaw tightened. “You already have a headache so it doesn’t count. These exercises work and you need to learn them fast. I’m not going to be here to take away the pain.”

She couldn’t very well tell him it wasn’t going to work, because in just an hour she could already tell her mind was calmer. If she did the exercises every day, she could strengthen her filters and barriers and keep the voices at bay.

“Fine. I didn’t say I wasn’t going to keep working. If you have to leave soon, let’s at least try to make sense of some of the impressions I got from the ivory stallion. There’ve been ten murders that you know of so far, right?”

“We don’t need to talk about it anymore. I don’t want you involved.”

“I heard you say that. Did you mean it?”

This time she was in his head. Waiting. Holding her breath. Watching him. Kadan slowly nodded. “I can find them. It’s not worth it to me to use you to save my friends.”

She let her breath out. “Are you doing this to save your friends or to stop murderers?”

“Both. Someone has to stop them, and there’s no way I’m letting the GhostWalkers take the fall. We have a powerful enemy in the White House and he wants all of us dead. These are good men, Tansy. I’m not going to let them down.”

“Have you considered asking the other Ghostwalkers for help? If you believe in them so much and they’re capable of doing the kind of thing I do . . .”

He shook his head. “No one is capable of doing what you do. And you have a mind for it. You fit puzzle pieces together at an astonishing rate.”

Tansy looked around for a water bottle. “I’m thirsty.” She needed time to think.

Kadan immediately got her a bottle out of the cooler. Tansy accepted it and gratefully took a long swallow.

“What are the other game pieces? Do you have them with you?”

He shook his head. “I only brought one. I thought I’d be bringing you back with me.”

She tapped her nail on the small table. “So let’s say we have two teams and each team member has his own game piece that he leaves behind when it’s his turn to play.”

He held up a hand. “Back up. What do you mean, ‘his turn to play’?”

“I’m telling you, this is a game. They’ve established rules and it stands to reason that each person takes a turn and commits a predetermined murder. Maybe they’re copying crimes from the past. Have you checked for similarities in the killings with historical killings?”

“No, but I can do that fast enough.”

“I would. They might be copying murders. They have cards of some kind.” She frowned, forcing her mind to open a little and let herself remember. “Not playing cards. A little larger, like tarot cards.”

“You got that from just holding that game piece?” Kadan wanted her for a partner. Her information was much more thorough and clearly presented than any report could ever be. And she had invaluable experience.

“I need to know what the other pieces are.”

“Are you sure?” He didn’t want to drag her in any deeper, not when he knew he had to leave her there. As it was, over a distance, he couldn’t protect her mind, and those voices were still wailing. Distant, but there. The best he could hope for was that the exercises he’d given her to do would help after he was gone.

“Just tell me.” She was impatient, her mind trying to solve a puzzle with too few pieces.

“Frog, there is a frog, carved out of ivory as well. If I had to guess, I’d bet the same man carved both figurines.”

“I’d be able to tell you if you’d brought both.” There was a slight edge, a reprimand, to her voice. “The frog and stallion, were they both left at different murder scenes on the East Coast?”

He nodded. “A frog, a stallion, a snake, and what appears to be the blade of a knife.”

Her head went up alertly. “All out of ivory. Even the blade?”

“Yes.” He could see her mind was working double time.

“That’s significant in some way. Three animal forms and the blade of a knife,” she repeated, more to herself than to him. “What were the pieces left on the West Coast?”

“A hawk, a scorpion, an anatomically correct and very well-endowed bull, and a perfect replica of a long-handled scythe.”