Toxic Game (GhostWalkers #15) - Christine Feehan Page 0,55

one of them. It was, but he still intended to do as much damage to them as possible. And Shylah, once you breathe on them, they could get infected. You have to kill them.

I’m perfectly aware, Draden. She held up the mask and gloves he’d given her and then slipped them on.

He heard the resolve in her voice. She knew what they were dealing with. She had accepted her fate—that she would die from the virus. He hadn’t quite gotten there when it came to her. He was still determined to find a way to save her. He was counting on Trap and Wyatt. Once on a task, they might spend hundreds of hours, with little food or drink, just working to find answers. Draden counted on his friends’ intense concentration and brilliant minds to come through for him.

Good hunting, sweetheart.

Same to you.

Then she was gone, fading into the trees. He crouched on the branch, wishing he had the time to track her, to see her in action, but he had to make certain to get any virus left out of the hands of the MSS. In his opinion, no one should have such a weapon, something that could wipe out the majority of the population of the world, but he couldn’t control everything. He could go after this group and he could point his fellow GhostWalkers in the direction of the three men who had deliberately created and then sold the virus, allowing the MSS to set it loose on innocent people.

Draden was forced to move slowly as the new commander had spread his men out, so that they walked along the forest floor in twos. A few checked out the trees overhead, but that was rare. As he approached the village, he was tempted several times to drop down and kill a couple of the enemy, but he couldn’t tip them off that he was anywhere close and about to infiltrate their stronghold.

From the branches of the closest ironwood trees and further camouflaged from view by the abundance of supplejack vines wrapped around and hanging from branches, Draden watched the flow of the village. It appeared, at first, as business as usual. There were people moving in the marketplace, but after a few minutes, it was evident to him that only men were out, and no one had taken the boats for market. The village traded and sold goods from their boats out on the river, rather than depending on others to come to them.

The men pacing back and forth seemed to be concentrated around the commander’s cabin. The man taking over had moved in and doubled his guards, thinking that would make him safe.

Once Draden understood the flow of the guards, their patterns and the way the rest of the village was moving, he leapt from the tree, landing on legs that acted like springs, an inheritance from the big cat genetics Whitney had given him. He donned the gloves and mask he’d found in the remote lab and remained still while he allowed his senses to give him the necessary information to begin his infiltration of the village.

It wasn’t hard to look the part. He needed clothes and he chose a soldier approximately his own height and weight. He took the guard as he approached the river with his automatic carelessly thrown over his shoulder. The man was too busy eating and drinking as he walked his rounds, certain that the enemy wouldn’t be foolish enough to come back.

Draden left him in the heavy brush, removed his mask and then walked boldly back to the village. He cradled the weapon as if it were his best friend—and right then it probably was. He moved with absolute confidence, keeping his face hidden in a hood, presumably to avoid the steady downpour. No one challenged him as he went past the guards right into the heart of the village.

He skirted the small marketplace, snagging a papaya off the rickety table of one of the local farmers. The man made a rude gesture but didn’t stop him, and two nearby soldiers snickered. Calmly, he pulled out a large knife and peeled the fruit, dropping the peelings as he walked in the general direction of the commander’s cabin. Again, he wasn’t challenged, not even as he got close enough to see into the windows.

There were three guards rotating around the structure and they were bored beyond words. One was smoking. A second stopped briefly to chat with the smoker before