Free Abraham Allegiant (Chronicles of the Nephilim Book 4) by Brian Godawa Page A

law-twisting over lawlessness.
    Mastema’s reptilian eyes penetrated Canaan’s countenance. Canaan shuddered.
    “Do you fancy my little flesh bag of bones?” said Ishtar. “Delectable, is he not?”
    “Is he an offering?” asked Mastema, salivating.
    Canaan stepped a little more behind Ishtar. The hairs on his neck stiffened. His breath shortened. Mastema could smell the fear.
    “Unfortunately, no,” said Ishtar. “But trust me, he has more far reaching benefit than an orgy of torture, rape, and dismemberment could ever provide.”
    “Pray tell,” replied Mastema. All his senses tuned in on Ishtar.
    Ishtar grinned. She had him in her grip. “I am reminded of a certain prophetic promise in a certain garden so long ago. ‘I will put enmity between your seed and her seed,’ I believe are the actual words, though I could be mistaken.”
    “Do not remind me,” grumbled Mastema.
    It hung over Mastema like an axe waiting to strike off his head. The Creator, Elohim, had cursed Mastema and engaged a war between the Seed of the Serpent and the Seed of Eve. For generations, the Watchers had tried to corrupt that seedline with their commingling of heavenly and earthly seed. They had sought out the bearers of that bloodline to hunt them down and exterminate them: Enoch the giant killer, then Noah ben Lamech. But they had failed; the Deluge had crushed their accomplishments under its cleansing waves and frightened them from ever cohabiting with the daughters of men again. And they had lost track of the sons of Noah.
    Until now.
    Ishtar grinned. “We may not have the Chosen Seed,” she said. “But we do have the Cursed Seed.”
    She pulled Canaan forward and cuddled him with a sensual playfulness.
    Mastema was only beginning to understand.
    “I introduce to you, Canaan ben Ham, son of Noah. Say hello to your master, Canaan.”
    Canaan croaked out a trembling response, “M-my Lord, I am y-your servant.”
    “Indeed?” said Mastema, stroking Canaan’s head down to his crotch with his finger.
    Ishtar continued, “He is the fruit of incestuous rape of Noah’s wife by her son Ham. The Chosen One cursed him.”
    Mastema’s scaly brows rose with greater interest. He knew of Anu and Ishtar’s experiments before the Great Flood. He had even known of their test subject, Ham, who was called Canaanu in Uruk. The irony of the name similarity did not escape him.
    “So, this one is a carrier of the Nephilim blood?” asked Mastema.
    Ishtar answered, “From within the bloodline of the Chosen Seed himself. I know. I performed genetic alteration on his father.”
    Mastema was following well. “What better bloodline to create the Cursed Seed from than the line of the Chosen Seed.”
    Ishtar added, “And what better location to breed that seedline than here in the Levant? We could call it the land of Canaan after our own chosen one as a slap in the supreme despot’s face.”
    Mastema paused. “What about Elohim? The Watchers’ original breeding program brought down the deluge of judgment. If we pursue that agenda again, we risk another cataclysm that will surely imprison the rest of us.”
    “But Elohim promised to never flood the earth again with water,” replied Ishtar.
    “There is always fire,” countered Mastema, “and other disasters.”
    Ishtar disagreed, “It makes the Creator look like an incompetent moron to be destroying and recreating his creation over and over again. He will not risk that kind of foolishness. He is a vainglorious peacock.”
    Mastema listened with intent. Ishtar was onto something here.
    Ishtar continued, “The problem with our antediluvian scheme was that the Watchers took control and sought to reign outwardly . Our breeding program was too bold a scheme. If we avoid fornication with the humans ourselves and simply breed the Nephilim strain through the humans already tainted, then we will not draw undue attention to ourselves. It will take a little longer, but our precious little Canaan