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Her foot slammed into his shin.
Padded.
Throttled rage escaped her at the triumphant laugh that echoed around her as another suddenly grabbed her other arm and within seconds she found her arms twisted behind her.
“Hurry, damn it, we don’t have all day.” The order was harsh, a sudden, ear-splitting automated shriek began blaring through the halls outside.
Throwing all her weight against the grip the two men had on her, Liza kicked both her feet out, connecting with the third’s chest and sending him stumbling back as the other two lost their grip on her.
Crashing to the floor, she ignored the bite of pain that drove into her flesh through the denim of her jeans and her undefended hands as she hit the shards of glass below.
Kicking out again, she tripped another while grabbing the heavy base of a lamp that had fallen from the table next to her. Swinging out, she let a satisfied snarl leave her lips as it connected with the face shield of the assailant who had been giving the orders. The crack of the sensitive shield sent a thrill of pleasure racing through her mind as she ducked from the other before twisting around, gripping the shield and tearing it from his face.
Let them join her in the fucking dark.
“Fuck. Get that little hellion. She just tore off my shield!”
“We have Breeds in the hall! We have Breeds in the hall!” another yelled.
“Move out!”
Liza twisted around in time to see three dark figures jump from the shattered window, arms outspread. A breath later, three shadows seemed to streak through the air as flares of light erupted outside.
The door to the suite exploded inward and in a blinding, horrified flash, Liza watched as a dozen Breeds rushed the room.
It had happened before…
Soldiers had rushed the room, forcing Honor, Fawn and Judd to begin firing. They couldn’t use caution not to kill.
They had to kill or be killed.
Rushing into the night, a vehicle screaming to a stop as the door was thrown open and Judd rushed them into it.
The rest was a flicker of a memory. The race through the desert, the Navajo warriors who were trying to explain their plan.
Two girls were dying an hour away from a crash into a canyon. The daughters of two highly trusted members of the Navajo Nation. No one would ever question their identity. No one would know who they were, or what had happened if the ritual worked.
A ritual that would cause Honor and Fawn’s spirits to sleep while the knowledge, partial memories, and the identity of the other girls became theirs instead.
Not their spirits. There was no magic that could hold their spirits, and those who loved them would never countenance it. But memories, knowledge—that was different.
But they had to hurry.
Time slowed.
Candles flickered as she and Fawn were drawn inside the rough sweat lodge. Six Navajo medicine men were seated in a semi-circle around the glowing fire.
On one side of the burning embers, lying on two beds of folded blankets, were two young girls, so broken, so close to death that she felt agony tearing through her.
These were the girls whose places they would take.
The explanations had been made hastily an hour before as they raced through the desert with Terran Martinez, the son of one of the spiritual elders now sitting across from her.
The two girls had crashed into a canyon hours before. Their spirits had been taken, they’d been told, having already moved beyond life, but a part of them remained. Enough that an ancient ritual could be performed before the bodies took their last breath.
That ritual would give Honor and Fawn the lives that had been taken in a remote canyon when the girls’ car had exploded and thrown them free.
Too much speed, the confidence of youth and inexperience behind the wheel had resulted in the crash.
