Untouchable. Stephanie Doyle
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From: [email protected]
Re: Arachne’s child
Christine,
I think we’ve found another one of Jackie Cavanaugh’s offspring. I hesitate to call her Jackie’s daughter. After all, Jackie only provided the egg and the funds for genetic experimentation. As far as we know, Jackie never even visited her three children, much less provided any emotional support.
This woman has received a package that we’ve tracked to the remote hills of India. We know next to nothing about her, but I’m betting she has enhancements. Her sibling in Hong Kong was a genius trapped in an immobile body. Who can guess what curses—or gifts—this other child might have?
I’m putting all of our research resources into finding this woman—and any sisters she has left. If she’s anything like her mother, we don’t want her to get her hands on any of the information Jackie accumulated over the years.
I’ll be in touch when we know more.
D.
Dear Reader,
I’m super excited about the release of Untouchable for two reasons. One, being asked to write an Athena Force book was like being asked to write for my favorite television show. As a fan of the first Athena Force series I was honored to be part of such a fabulous continuity. Then there was the added bonus of getting a pretty detailed preview of what was coming next. I go crazy for spoilers. I can’t help myself.
Two, I’ve always wanted to write a heroine with superpowers. It goes back to my Wonder Woman days. Who didn’t want those gold bracelets? When I learned that my heroine’s special gift was poisonous skin I knew it was going to be a challenge, but I couldn’t wait to dive in. I hope you have as much fun reading this story as I did writing it. It goes without saying I would love to hear what you think. You can visit me at www.stephaniedoyle.net
Stephanie Doyle
Untouchable
Stephanie Doyle
MILLS & BOON
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STEPHANIE DOYLE,
a dedicated traveler, has climbed Croagh Patrick in Ireland, snow-shoed on Mt. Rainier, crawled through ancient kivas of the Anasazi and walked among the blue-footed boobies of the Galapagos Islands. A firm believer that great adventures can lead to great stories, she continues to seek new challenges that will trigger her next idea. Readers can find out more about Stephanie by visiting her Web site, www.stephaniedoyle.net.
To my brother Pat, who, like my heroine, lives in a foreign land.
Can’t wait to visit.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 1
“Lilith! You must come quickly. Lilith!”
The sound of her name penetrated her sleep. She focused on the language that was being used. English. Not Hindi. One of the nuns rather than a villager. Slowly she opened her eyes and turned her head toward the noise. The heavy tarp that served as the door to her hut was pulled back. Sister Joseph filled the space.
“They are asking for you on the hill. You must hurry.”
The plump older woman stepped inside and instantly Lilith pushed herself farther back on her sleeping mat. “Do not get too close. I am not dressed.”
The sister obeyed and turned away. Lilith got out of bed and began to assemble what had become her unique habit. First, a cotton slip. Then, a long bolt of silk she pulled over her head that covered her from neck to foot, shoulder to wrist. Ties secured the material to her body, making the uniform less cumbersome. At times she was sure she must be mistaken for a mummy.
Finally she reached for the gloves that sat on her writing table, which was the only other piece of furniture in the small hut other than her sleeping mat. As she slid the gloves up her arms Lilith felt the material cling to her skin. It was a sensual feeling that she allowed herself to enjoy for only a second.
“The brothers have need of your…medicine,” Sister Joseph told her with her back still turned to her. The brothers were Buddhist monks rather than Christian brothers, but the nuns who lived in the village situated below the monastery treated them with as much reverence.
“They have a visitor among them. Looking for retreat, I think. I believe a leg wound has festered.”
“Leprosy?” Lilith asked. “Has he become infected by one of the villagers?”
“No.” Sister Joseph shook her head. “He hasn’t been exposed to anyone long enough. Unless he contracted it somewhere else. Listen to us,” she said sheepishly. “A man comes in with a wound and we automatically assume it is one of the rarest and hardest-to-contract diseases in the world. We’re growing paranoid I think.”
“But this is our world,” Lilith reminded her. “It is what we see every day. It is natural to make assumptions. I will go to the brothers. I’ll see what can be done.”
The woman backed out of the hut and Lilith followed her at a distance. It was still night, but nearing morning. Animals in the forest just beyond the village sent signals to their comrades to start the day. They were familiar sounds but still exotic to Lilith’s ears even after all this time.
She followed the path that led from her camp up a steep hill that was flattened at the top. A hundred years ago devout monks had come together to build a monastery as a tribute to Buddha. Today it served the same purpose.
Deep in the region of Arunachal Pradesh, near the China border, this track of forest was almost forgotten to the rest of India. As were her human inhabitants. It was why the monks had claimed this space in their search for solitude. It was why the lepers had been banished here, ejected from society.
It