Spider Game (GhostWalkers, #12)(72)

Before Trap could make an enquiry, she hastened to assure him. Still fine.


The moment she opened the path, she caught a glimpse of the “iceman.” She knew his team members often referred to him by that nickname and she knew why. She’d experienced his ice, but that little glimpse enlightened her further. Trap was completely removed from what he was doing. He moved like a wind of sheer death through the trees, taking the hottest location and using a knife, getting in close and going for the throat just as she’d advised.


Her heart stuttered, realizing what he was doing. She didn’t like the fact that he put himself in danger without so much as flinching. He simply took point and went after the other soldiers aggressively. She wasn’t a woman to swear, but she managed a few curse words as she moved locations, crawling along the ground until she was well back in the cover of the swamp where she could stand and begin to run.


She went on the hunt now. She knew the sniper would have to move, but she had a good sense of where he was. She could determine where he would go. In the distance she heard a gun go off, and her heart nearly stopped and then began to pound.


Trap. She had to know. She had to be human in spite of her resolve, because the thought of him injured was more than she could bear.


Fired at Gino. Missed. Gino was already on top of him. You don’t want to miss Gino when he’s coming at you. Two down.


Three. I’m going after the one in the trees with a rifle.


Gino says a five-man team hit us. That means with the sniper we’ve got one other man. Be careful, Cayenne, their focus is on getting you.


She knew that already and she wasn’t afraid of them. Spiders didn’t have fear, just purpose, and she was hunting now. She ran fast, making no sound, not even allowing a whisper of movement against the brush. Where she could, she used silk to aid her, swinging from branch to branch to cover greater distances above the denser foliage.


When she was close to the tree where the sniper had set up shop, she climbed high, going up the trunk fast, flattening her body against the bark to keep from presenting a target for anyone to see should they be looking. Again, because she was so slight and didn’t weigh much, there was no movement of branches or leaves – and that was what saved her.


The breeze was slight and it shifted just enough to warn her. He was still in the same tree. He hadn’t moved. She cursed again, silently this time. Very silently. The sniper, the moment he knew his spotter was dead and he’d given his location away, should have moved. Would have moved. She’d walked into a second trap. This time the sniper was the bait.


Breathing very slow and evenly, she stayed very still, flattened against the tree trunk, hidden in the crotch of two branches. They were thin, barely there, but large enough to shield her body from view – if she didn’t move. Whoever was on the business end of a rifle had a scope and he’d be able to see her quite clearly if she moved. This close, it was a huge risk to reach telepathically to Trap. Sometimes just that psychic energy could draw attention with an enhanced individual.


She closed her eyes and drew in another shaky breath. The sniper was just out of her reach, but so close if he turned his head and looked up he could possibly see her. She could use silk, but even that was risky. The shooter had to be close enough to ensure he wouldn’t miss, with a good view of the sniper and tree. The tree didn’t have much foliage. The sniper was hidden from view below due to the way the trunk split. He was in the very lowest point, his rifle set up along the thickest branch. He could almost lie down, and clearly he was comfortable.


He wasn’t nearly as confident as his first spotter had been. He didn’t like being the bait. He was used to lying up somewhere, far removed from hand-to-hand combat, and taking out his enemies from a distance. He certainly wasn’t used to being the one drawing out his foe. She smelled sweat on him. Determination and that same revulsion of what she was. He especially disliked her after what she’d done to his spotter.


She had always relied on herself. She went over every move she could make in her mind. She was in sight. The wrong breeze. Her hair moving. Anything at all might draw attention. Just being in such close proximity meant eventually the marksmen would look up and spot her. She practiced jumping on him in her mind. Jumping, biting and rolling off the tree. The problem was, she didn’t know which way to roll.


Trap. She touched his mind delicately. It was the only play left to her until she knew where the man with the rifle was. She hoped Trap would understand that ultra-fragile brush in his mind.


At first she thought maybe she hadn’t used enough strength to reach him, but their connection was so strong she couldn’t imagine that, so she stayed still and waited.


Coordinates.


Just that. His touch was every bit as subtle as hers had been. He knew. He understood she was compromised and he was already coming to her. A part of her didn’t like that she’d reached out, asking for help. Not in a combat situation. She always worked alone and that suited her, but she couldn’t deny that there were moments she could have used help and it was sheer luck that she survived and not her enemy.


She sent the coordinates and the information that she was pinned down. One sniper in the tree with her and the other focused on the first marksman. She didn’t want Trap dead, so that meant risking communicating even more information. She kept her gaze just to the right of the marksman below her. She didn’t want a steady gaze to alert him, but she had to see what he was doing at all times.