The Unforgiven Read Online Free Page B

Cade.”

 
     
     
    The whole number of the angels, the Watchers, who descended from above, was two hundred. The first of their leaders was Samyaza; the last, Azazel.
    The sons of Man had multiplied in those days, and daughters were born to them, elegant and beautiful. When the sons of Heaven beheld the daughters of men, they became enamored of them. They said to one another: Come let us choose wives among the children of men and have children with them.
    Samyaza replied: I fear that I alone shall suffer for so grievous a crime. But all the Watchers answered Samyaza and said: We all swear, and bind ourselves by mutual execrations, that we will not change our intention.
    So the Watchers took wives, teaching them sorcery, incantations, astronomy, and the dividing of roots. And the women conceived and brought forth the Nephilim, born of spirit and of flesh. The children of the Watchers became evil spirits upon earth, turning against men in order to devour them, to eat their flesh and to drink their blood.
    —
from the Book of Enoch

Chapter Three
    Negev Desert, Israel
    The new laborer was tall and broad and bare to the waist. A veritable Adonis. His back muscles rippled beneath an expanse of smooth skin. He was tanned, though he was not nearly so dark as the two Israeli men working with him.
    He’d pressed his T-shirt into service as an impromptu bandanna, wrapping it around his head turban-style. A short black ponytail protruded from the faded green fabric. The ends of his hair curled at his nape.
    Even from a distance, the sight made Maddie’s skin tingle. An aura of danger seemed to cling to the man, reinforced, no doubt, by his extensive body art: a dark sleeve of Celtic knotwork covered his entire right arm. A nasty-looking dagger was inked on his chest. A third tat—a black and red snake—curled around one calf.
    He worked the roped-off area to the north of the main dig site, about thirty feet away. Lifting a substantial stone, he hefted it into a wheelbarrow without apparent effort. He was left-handed, she realized, watching him maneuver a crowbar behind the next boulder. That was a trait only another lefty would notice. She experienced an odd feeling of familiarity.
    Then pain stabbed behind her left eye, a light flashed, and all thoughts of the man fled. Panic bled ice water into her veins.
    Oh, God, no.
    She tore off her glasses. Roughly, desperately, she rubbedher eyes. But the soft red glow remained, encircling the laborer like a halo.
    A full minute passed before the light faded. Too long to pretend she hadn’t seen it. Impossible to pretend it was a trick of the Israeli sun or her overactive imagination. Her head began to pound. She swallowed a bitter taste. Somehow, she managed to keep her breakfast from churning its way up her gullet.
    So begins the end.
    How long did she have? A couple months? Six? Certainly not more than a year. Oh, God. She’d been feeling so normal, so damn
healthy
. Brain surgery had almost killed her. Weeks of chemo to shrink the remaining cancer had left her weak. But once the poison had stopped dripping into her veins, she’d fought her way back tooth and nail. Her health had rebounded. Her hair had started to grow back. Her strength and sense of well-being had returned with amazing rapidity. She’d clung to every good day.
    But she knew better than to hope. The reprieve wasn’t permanent. All the doctors agreed, it was only a matter of time before the cancer returned. When that happened, she’d be back in the States, hooked up to machines and IV drips, mind fogged with drugs. Staring death in the face. Again.
    But not yet. Not today, at least. And not tomorrow. She didn’t intend to give in easily, even if she knew the battle was lost. She’d fight every step of the way. Grab every second she had left.
    With a hand that barely trembled, she slid her glasses back onto her nose. The new laborer had hefted one final rock into his wheelbarrow. She blanked the future from her