The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)

When he answers, I know Em pegged him right. “I am traveling to the gates of Tartarus, to represent my master, Poseidon, who must continue work on the fleet.”


I can tell he thinks Poseidon’s name will generate some fear or respect in me, but I am Ull, who will one day bear the essence of Nephil and rule over all Nephilim, including Poseidon. I fear no Nephilim.

At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. In truth, I’m terrified of the Nephilim. Of this hunter. But I need to keep up the act, for Luca. “And who is it you wait for in Tartarus?”

He scoffs. “You truly are a pitiful one, pup.” Even in the face of death, he taunts me. Are all the hunters like this? Like Ull?

I push the blade a little deeper, careful not to accidentally open his jugular. I stop when he winces. “Had you half a brain you might realize who it is you are speaking to.”

With a sneer, he says, “Tell me, please, so that I might pass on your name to—”

“I am—Ull!” I shout, drawing the blade back and kicking the man in the gut. When he pitches forward I give him a hard chop to the back of his head and send him to the floor at my feet. “Vessel of Nephil, Lord of the Nephilim. And it is me whom you go to see at the gates of Tartarus!”

While he recovers, Em takes my hand and squeezes it.

I’m shaking.

I take a deep breath and speak slowly. “Do you know who I am now?”

He nods without looking up, which is a good thing because my hand is still shaking.

“Tell me,” I say. “Why shouldn’t I kill you?”

As I ask the question, I hope his answer is good, and that he doesn’t just go ahead and ask for death.

“I am shamed and forever your servant,” he says.

Ull might still run him through, but his answer is enough for me, and useful.

“What is your name?” I ask.

“Doug,” he says.

I nearly laugh. Doug? Really? It’s the most mundane and normal name I’ve heard in the underworld. Like Norman. Or Chuck. Or Bob. The name also reminds me that he wasn’t born here. He wasn’t always a hunter. He had a family once. Maybe children. And the menace he feels toward me and everything else was instilled in him by the Nephilim. “Do something for me, Doug” I say.

“Anything.”

“The hunters, Preeg and Pyke, do you know them?”

He shakes his head, no. “Then you will learn who they are.”

“I will find them,” he says.

“They will have a boy with them. A boy who has yet to be broken. Find him and take him, but do not harm him. I would break him myself. Make him my first protégé.”

“And if they do not release the boy?” he asks.

I hadn’t considered that possibility in my hasty plan, or considered the fact that Luca might now be with Ninnis and Kainda. I give the only answer that Ull could give, “You will give them no choice.”

“Understood.”

“Now go,” I say. “Speak of this to no one. Succeed and I will elevate your status. Fail and I will finish what we began here today.” I turn to Emilie. “Fetch his weapon.”

She picks up the meteor hammer and hands it to me. I hold the weapon in my hand, feeling the strength of the chain and the weight of the spiked balls. A single blow from this weapon would have been enough to kill me.

We got lucky, I think, and I decide that this visit to Asgard should be brief.

I drop the weapon at my feet and show no fear at the fact that I’ve just armed the man who moments ago would have killed me. He collects it and stands, his head still downturned. He gives a slight bow, “My Lord,” and then heads on his way.

I stand there, watching him leave. When I can no longer see him, I listen. When the sound of his feet fade away, and his scent fades along with it, my legs begin to shake.

“I can’t do this,” I say, returning to myself.

Em catches me and holds me up. “Where are we going?”

“To my room. You know where the hunter’s quarters are?”

She gives me a look that says, duh, and adds, “I grew up here, remember?”

She leans me against a column, against the face of Ull of all places, and quickly collects her knives. “For the record, a wife is allowed to defend her husband’s honor. Had his wife been present, we would have fought to the death.”

My face pales at the thought.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I would have won.”

With her knives returned to their sheaths, she steps up to me. “Can you walk? Because I can’t help you.”

I nod and take a shaky step. I push through the weakness and by the time we reach the end of the hall, and enter the next, I have regained the confident strut of Ull. The walls here stretch forty feet high to accommodate the Nephilim warriors. The hallway stretches far to the left and leads to several other hallways, rooms and the grand chamber where I consumed the blood of Nephil. To the right is the curving staircase that leads to the human-sized living quarters, where I hope to find Aimee, and give her something that is more hers than mine—something that will soon do me very little good and might yet save her life. Or at least her soul.





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