Stygian's Honor (49 page)

And that moment—that heartrending second—when Honor Roberts had slept, and who Liza Johnson had been had slipped inside her.

It had begun slowly, moments after Cassie Sinclair had
left the room. A fragment here. A fragment there. Nothing solid or concrete yet, but enough—

The loss of who she had been had saved her.

The death of two young women, buried with the utmost ceremony, and in the utmost secrecy, had allowed her and Fawn to live in peace—for a while at least.

Tonight, she wanted to dance them out of her mind, drink them from her consciousness and deal with them tomorrow.

Not tonight.

Besides, she also needed to discuss a few things with Claire.

Did the other woman remember as well?

Was that the reason for the fear each time Liza had nearly given herself away?

“Liza?” She nearly flinched as he moved to her, his tone deep, rasping as the backs of his fingers grazed her cheek. “Where did you go, baby?”

Swiping her tongue over her lips nervously, she gave a quick shake of her head. “I’m right here, Stygian. I’m just hoping you’ll take me somewhere. I have yet to leave this damned room and I can’t handle it any longer.”

Thoughtful, with a gleam of disbelief and skepticism, he stared down at her before nodding slowly.

“Let’s see if we can get you out of here for a few hours then,” he said, sending a flare of anticipation racing through her.

“Thank you.” Relief raced through her.

“I’ll go arrange things with security so the others can go as well,” he told her as he moved away from her, taking the sense of warmth that wrapped around her whenever he was near.

Turning, she moved to the windows and gazed at the darkness surrounding the hotel.

Rubbing at her upper arms to dispel the chill racing up them, she eased back from the window, suddenly wishing Stygian were still there.

The windows were bullet and laser resistant, the room itself highly secured.

Yet Gideon Cross had managed to bug Jonas Wyatt’s room, which she was certain was even more secure.

There was something not quite right, though, something out of place, out of sync.

Tilting her head, she stared out into the darkness, wondering what was missing, or what was added.

Something wasn’t right—

As the thought raced through her mind, a blinding flare of light suddenly flashed through the room. The resulting explosion seemed to rock the entire hotel.

Liza went to the floor, rolling, instinct and her photographic memory of the location of each piece of furniture flashing through her mind as she scrambled behind the sofa.

Shards of glass scattered around her as though World War III had erupted in the Navajo Suites. Flashing a brilliant red and yellow, the emergency lights sent a kaleidoscope of color racing through the room as Liza came to a crouch and quickly peeked around the couch.

Three dark-clad, masked figures were moving through the room. Two to the bedroom, while one began tossing furniture aside, throwing it out of his way. The electronic black shield covering his face gave him an automaton look, while the scrolling red ribbon of the auto-detection technology glinted at the top of the shield.

Shit!

Flipping behind the furniture before his head turned her way, Liza drew in a hard breath. She had only seconds to find a place to hide, or to reach the door.

The inner security lock had engaged when Stygian went out. It would take precious time to slide it aside—time she didn’t have.

Hurriedly moving to the opposite side of the couch, Liza dived behind the heavy chair that had already been thrown aside within a heartbeat of the couch bouncing against it.

The opened door to the connecting suite was just ahead of her, two figures racing from the room.

“She’s not there,” one rasped.

“She’s here. We tracked her before the window went in.
Find her, damn it. There wasn’t enough time to get through the door.”

“Bright fucking idea blowing the lights,” another snapped.

The other didn’t speak.

Where was he?

Liza stared around her, heart racing, terrified to make the move to sprint for the connecting door and the exit leading into the hallway.

With her hands planted against the floor, her body ready to vault across the distance, she considered her chances—

The chair went flying.

Screaming out Stygian’s name, Liza sprinted for the connecting door as hard hands gripped her arm and a growl echoed through her senses.

Turning in the grip and kicking her leg out to connect with her assailant’s knee, she was gripped with rage. The heavy padding over the vulnerable area minimized the force of the blow, bringing no more than a guttural grunt as his grip tightened.

As he brought his other arm up to grab her neck, his fingers only brushed her flesh before she knocked them away, twisted again and dropped, screaming at the wrench in her arm a second before he released her.

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.

Fate, Terran had whispered, his niece and her best friend had met fate, and provided Honor and Fawn the means of escape.

Orrin Martinez waved his hand to the two makeshift beds that lay beside each girl. “Take your place,” his voice rasped through the hastily erected sweat lodge. “The sand is falling through the glass of life, and time is running low.”

Honor lay down, her heart racing, her throat tightened, as the blond man she’d been told was Audi Johnson and his wife, Jane, took their seats on the other side of the fire.

One of the medicine men whispered something; a second later, Audi and Jane reached out and dropped what appeared to be a handful of dried plants on the burning embers and rocks in the center of the shelter.

Sparks flew up, showering the air with pinpoints of red as the acrid then sweet smell that suddenly filled the air swept through her senses.

“Do you know, young children, the decision you have made this night?”

It was a scene from the oldest western movie they had ever watched. Not that they had ever been allowed to watch much television where they had spent most of their lives.

But she knew, as her eyes met Fawn’s, that this was the only decision they could make.

The steam that rose from the center pit, the hiss of water trickling upon the red-hot stones and the acrid scent of the pungent dried herbs that wafted thick and heavy in the air, all added to the sense of disbelief that swirled through her head.

“I know the decision I’ve made,” she answered, though her voice cracked with fear, and with tears.

Wizened, his lined face and deep, dark gaze reflecting his sympathy, the chief of the Six Tribes nodded slowly.

She turned her head to watch her friend. As always, stoicism defined her. Staring at the ceiling above, her gaze resigned, her expression still. It was more than courage that filled her. There was no fear, no panic—nothing but that resignation that tore at her heart.

Fawn had known no peace, no lack of pain, both physical or emotional, for nearly the whole of her life.

Even here, amidst these whose only concern was that of her safety and her comfort, she knew no peace.

But then, neither of them ever had, not really. The reasons for it had merely been different, the years of being so ill, of knowing such pain, were now too much a part of them.

“Know you, that when it is over, strength will be yours. There will be no fears, no nightmares to combat. You will be the child you have whispered to the Almighty that you wish to be,” he whispered to Fawn, his expression so gentle, so filled with tenderness that even she felt a part of her calm at the sound of it.

Watching Fawn, she saw the shame that filled her friend. The fear she always felt shamed her, made her feel weak. She wouldn’t listen when they tried to tell her it only made her stronger.

“Ah child, such heart and compassion you hold within your small body,” the chief seemed to understand each of those fears, to the point that as Fawn finally turned her head and stared into his dark gaze, her lips had trembled and Honor had watched her eyes fill with such hope.

The sense of pure peace and certainty that filled her expression left Honor suddenly thankful that Judd had convinced them to take this only path they could find to safety.

“Child.” He turned to her then, holding out his other hand to her.

She wasn’t afraid.

She had faced her fears and knew the monsters that lurked in the dark. The unknown wasn’t nearly as terrifying as all the terrors her past held.

“See you these four?” She followed as Orrin reached out a hand and gestured to the warriors, their faces streaked with war paint, their dark eyes flinty in the light of the burning embers of the fire. “They will guide you on your journey. You know not their faces, but their strength will ease your way and help you keep the secrets you have hidden for so very long.”