For the first time in their history, they are forced to face the fact there is a group who can match them power for power.

What the Amazons don't know is if that group will choose to try and destroy them.

Full noon sun in the middle of a busy downtown street, and I was about to steal a baby.

An older white two-door, with a bumper that obviously wasn't original to the car, angled its way into a parking spot. I whistled, signaling the two warriors I'd brought with me that our target was close.

Thea Caras, our new high priestess, opened the door to our Jeep and set one foot on the pavement. I motioned for Tess, a hearth-keeper and our driver, to be ready. Then I followed suit, trying to look casual, although Thea with her full-sleeve tattoos was not your usual downtown Beloit shopper. For that matter neither was I, nor were the two warriors hidden in shaded doorways nearby. Still, I grabbed a hoodie from the seat beside me and threw it at Thea. She frowned but pulled it on.

It was the middle of July and hot, but better she be sweaty than flashing her unusual art.

The men took their time getting out of the vehicle. I glanced over my shoulder, checking to make sure the fifth member of our team, Lao, a three-hundred-and-fifty-year-old hearth-keeper, was in position to take the child once we had retrieved her from the sons who had stolen her.

Finally the men exited the car. The tallest reached into the backseat and pulled out the carrier. I could see the baby inside, fast asleep with a blue-and-white checked blanket tucked around her. The shorter of the two, maybe six foot three to the other man's lanky six six, scanned the street. I ducked down in a pretense of checking my tire. Thea cut around behind the back of the Jeep to approach them from the street.