The Unforgiven (20 page)

He watched closely for a reaction but saw none so continued. “Brax figured a way around the problem of proximity. He cross-referenced near-death reports from hospitals with police records of hellfiend activity. You came up on the radar.”

“How would hellfiend activity lead to me? I’ve never seen or even felt a hellfiend. I’m not even sure I believe they exist!”

“They exist,” Cade assured her. “They’re foul, evil beings, always looking for a way into a human mind. But if they sense the presence of a Watcher, they back off. They can’t influence or possess us. Our life essence is too similar to theirs.”

“DAMNers say the Nephilim are archdemons. That the hellfiends are under their command.”

“Such control is possible,” Cade admitted. “But difficult. Some Watcher clans try to use hellfiends as slaves, with varying degrees of success. My clan does not. We’d rather see them annihilated.”

“You’ve killed hellfiends?” Maddie asked.

“A few,” Cade admitted. “Druid magic can create strong
illusions. A Clan Samyaza adept can shield his Watcher nature very effectively. We can get close to hellfiends, though it’s still tough to catch one. They’re disgusting things, though; as a rule, we avoid them, unless we’re after an outright kill. That’s not the case for other Watcher clans, however. Some pursue hellfiends with the intent to enslave. Which is why the hellfiends tend to flee whenever they sense a Watcher. After your near-death experience, the hellfiends fled your territory. That was the red flag that alerted us to your Watcher nature. Also, you joined an archeological expedition searching for evidence of the Watchers. That was no coincidence.”

Maddie frowned. “The moment I saw Dr. Ben-Meir on TV, I became obsessed. My dreams started even before I arrived in the Negev.”

“Not dreams,” he told her. “Memories.”

She shook her head. “Hardly. I dream about the Watchers. The original ones who lived five thousand years ago.”

“Your dreams are really ancestral memories of real events. All Watchers have them. They’re encoded in our genes.”

She blinked. “You mean what I see in my dreams is the memory of something that actually happened to my ancestors?”

“Exactly.” Cade watched her. It was time to discover how useful Maddie would be to Clan Samyaza. “Tell me what you’ve dreamed.”

A small vertical line appeared between her brows. “I dreamed I was at a well, drawing water. The same well we uncovered at the dig. There was an older man nearby polishing a sword.”

Cade’s pulse quickened. “Who?”

“My father.” She flushed. “Or rather, the girl in the dream’s father. A Watcher.”

“Which one? Do you know?”

“Yes.” Her fingers twisted in her lap. “It was Azazel.”

Azazel.

Cade’s fist clenched on a visceral rush of triumph. He could hardly believe his good fortune. Maddie’s power came from the same root as Vaclav Dusek’s. With her enslavement, Clan Samyaza would bring Dusek’s power under their command. The field of battle would be level. The death of Cade’s son, and all the others who had died in the massacre, could be avenged. For the first time, Cade began to believe Artur’s desperate scheme would actually work.

Maddie’s eyes were troubled. “According to the Book of Enoch, Azazel was the worst of the Watchers. He was utterly depraved. But in my dreams he doesn’t seem like such a monster. He was kind to his daughter. She loved him.”

Cade went down on his haunches in front of Maddie’s chair. Taking her hands in his, he waited until she met his gaze. “There are two sides to every story,” he said. “Enoch was a man of Yahweh. The Watchers defied God’s law. Having done so, they remained unrepentant. Of course Enoch would describe them as depraved. In his eyes, the Watchers deserved the curse flung down upon their heads.”

“So they weren’t really evil at all?”

“I’m not saying that. Azazel was no innocent. Neither were his brother Watchers. Their descendants are far from blameless. Some have committed atrocities against humanity.” He brought her hands to his lips and kissed her fingers one by one. “I won’t lie to you, Maddie. We share an ugly legacy. But we do
share
it. I don’t intend to let you face it alone. Remember that promise and cling to it when the darkness closes in.”
Even after I betray you.

She exhaled an unsteady breath. “Thank you.”

He felt nothing but trust radiating from her mind. The trust he’d worked so hard to put there. Trust he didn’t deserve.

Guilt sliced at his innards. He was a bastard, to use her this way, to lead her, blind and trusting, to bondage. He released her hands and stood. Pacing to the window, he opened one of
the shutters. The narrow street, two levels below, was painted with the long shadows of early evening. A shabbily dressed man trudged past without looking up.

“What time is it?” Maddie surprised him by asking. Such a mundane question.

“There’s a couple hours of daylight left.” He turned back to her. “You should rest. Before tonight.”

He phrased it as a suggestion but in reality it was a command; the urge to blurt out the truth to her was very strong. He had to put some space between them before that happened. With the strengthened link between their minds, it was easy to force her acquiescence without her even knowing he’d done so. She yawned almost immediately. A moment later, her eyelids drooped.

“I don’t know why I’m so tired all the time,” she groused.

“It’s normal during transition.” That wasn’t completely false.

He guided her to the bed. Unprotesting, she stretched out on the mattress and said, “Maybe I will sleep, just a little. But”—she blinked rapidly, fighting the heavy droop of her eyelids—“what happens tonight?”

Cade didn’t answer.

Lead was for the earth, bronze for war, silver for joy. But gold—pure, shining, perfect gold—was the essence of enlightenment, the divine spark from which all creation sprang. If one possessed gold, one possessed all. To truly possess gold, one must create it. To create, one must sacrifice.

Lead, bronze, silver, gold . . .
Lilith breathed the progression as she scraped metallic, orange-red dust from a silver tray. The powder, every grain, dropped into a rounded clay vessel. She lifted her eyes to Azazel’s.

“
Go on, Daughter.
”

She nodded. The hilt of the knife felt slick in her left hand. She adjusted her grip and pressed the tip of the blade to her right palm; her white skin opened in a red slash. Curiously, she felt no pain. She opened her hand over the clay vessel. Blood dripped. Silently, she counted seven drops before pulling away.

“
Now, replace the cover.
”

A silver moon shone down from a brilliant sky, illuminating her task. The vessel was completely round except for three supports that kept the sphere from tipping. A copper sheet lined the inside. Under the watchful gaze of her sire, Lilith joined the two pieces. She twisted the top once, until the ridges on its edges locked into place with the grooves on the crucible’s base.

“
Good,” Azazel said.

Hands trembling, Lilith took up a beeswax candle and touched its wick to the flames in the forge. Tilting the taper above the crucible, she dripped wax over the top and along the seam of the two pieces she had joined. She filled the gaps carefully, not lifting her head until
she was satisfied every crack had been sealed tight, and she let out a breath when Azazel once again nodded his approval.

“
The crucible is the woman’s womb,” he said. “The flame is man’s desire. Join the two, Daughter.
”

Lilith lifted the small vessel—it was surprisingly heavy—and placed it on the fire. The flames rose; the wax melted, sizzling as it struck the coals. Lilith stared into the conflagration, aware of an all-consuming tension. Was she worthy of her father’s faith? Would she succeed?

Azazel did not speak until the clay turned black. Then he indicated for Lilith to take up a small bronze rake and drag the crucible from the fire. She did so. Long moments passed. The cooling clay whistled and groaned.

Lilith waited, not speaking, not daring to raise her eyes. She would rather die than meet her father’s eyes and reveal her rising fear. At last Azazel dipped his chin. Lilith stepped forward. Bare hands trembling slightly, she cupped them around the heated vessel. The air left her lungs in a rush. The burned clay was cool!

Her lips parted in surprise; her father’s deep chuckle sounded behind her. “Come now, Lilith. You did not think I would allow your tender flesh to come to harm, did you?
”

Flushing, she looked up at him in wonder. “But . . . it emerged from the fire. How is it possible?
”

“
The greatest virtue is knowledge,” he told her. “All things are possible to the one who comprehends the divine.
”

“
I do not understand,” she said.

“
You will.” His dark eyes flowed over her. “Open the vessel.
”

It was more difficult to open the crucible than it had been to seal it. Azazel handed her a bronze knife; she inserted the tip between the vessel’s two halves. Steam hissed free in an almost human sigh, and diaphanous yellow mist seeped into the air. The two pieces of clay parted. Lilith gazed into the top half of the crucible.

“
Oh!” The copper sheet had changed. It was now a mystical, translucent red. “How beautiful.
”

Azazel smiled. His crimson aura sparkled. “The color tells us your effort has succeeded. Well done, Daughter.
”

Her eyes flew to the base. The reddish dust she’d scraped into the vessel had transformed into a shining black residue. When Azazel handed her a curved bronze scraper, she used the tool to transfer the dark material from crucible to a small stone bowl.

“
The prime substance,” her father said. “The seed of creation. Utterly devoid of light. As was the universe before illumination by the divine spark.
”

Lilith cupped the bowl in her hands, tilting the black powder—the prime substance—so that it spilled back and forth. The material was so black it seemed to cause everything nearby to brighten.

Some might have called it ugly. Frightening, even. But truly, it was the most wondrous thing Lilith had ever seen.

“
And I created it,” she breathed.

“
That is only the beginning, Daughter.
”

Maddie woke, disoriented, the dream image burning the inside of her skull. She sat up abruptly, shaking her head as if to dislodge it. The mental experience was so real, almost as if it were her own memory. According to Cade, her dreams were actually her ancestor’s. Lilith. A few days ago she would have scoffed at the notion. Now she believed him. Against her better judgment, against all instinct, she was beginning to trust Cade Leucetius.

Where was he? Her eyes darted around the shabby room. Something squeezed inside her chest when she realized she was alone. She let out a long breath, fighting a quiver of panic. She should be glad for a bit of privacy. Just thinking of what had happened between her and Cade caused her body temperature to rise several notches. She could hardly believe what she’d done. What she’d let him do.

It had been the most incredible sex she’d ever had. No. Scratch that. To call what she and Cade had done “sex” was like calling a category-five hurricane a summer shower. She felt stretched more ways than she’d thought possible. She was sore between her legs, and the tops of her breasts stung from the scrape of Cade’s stubble. A red mark graced her shoulder from his teeth and lips.

The lock on the door, she found, was broken. But though the knob turned freely, the door itself wouldn’t budge. She set her shoulder against it and shoved. Nothing. Kicked it. Nothing. She pounded on it with her fists and called out. No answer.

The door had to be bolted from the outside. There was a bright light in the hallway, illuminating the door’s edges. Frowning, she ran a hand down the crack beside the jamb. The light was an odd color, dark and silvery, and when she pulled her hand away, opalescent ribbons followed her fingertips. Strange.

A day ago, she would have blamed the visual disturbance on the tumor. Now she wasn’t so sure. If Cade’s assertions were true, her cancer was gone and she was in the midst of some kind of transformation from human to Nephilim. Could the light be . . . magic? Some kind of protection?

Not protection. Imprisonment.
The words rose in her mind, almost independent of her thoughts, a whispered voice in her ear. A chill ran through her. It intensified when she spied a flash of movement near her toes.

A snake! She jumped back, heart racing, and the creature slithered to a position in front of the door. She backed toward the bathroom as it lifted its head. It hissed in her direction, forked tongue darting past twin fangs.

Thankfully, the reptile stayed in position by the door. Almost as if it were a guard. Maddie frowned, examining the animal more closely. Red and black markings decorated its body. The thing might have been a twin to the one she’d
shooed out of her hut two nights ago. Or the two snakes might be one and the same.

On that disturbing thought, she slipped into the bathroom and shut the door, questions rising into her mind like so many bubbles in a bathtub. Where was Cade? Why had he left her? What was he doing? Did she even want him to return? She couldn’t help thinking of the snake tattoo on his leg, the one that looked so much like the snake in her hut and also like the snake in front of the door. Coincidence? Hardly. What the hell was going on?

Trembling hands braced on the rim of the sink, she stared at her reflection in the cracked mirror. Her hair hung limply, too dirty to curl. Her face was pale, her eyes underscored with dark half-rings. Dried sweat clung to her skin. She hardly felt human.

Her eyes locked with the eyes in the mirror. According to Cade, she wasn’t human. She was like him. Part angel. Or, if she preferred, part demon. Soulless. Cursed.

If Cade was to be trusted, she was on the edge of a crisis. A crisis that brought overpowering sexual cravings. It might kill her. After it drove her insane.