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

She nods like she knows what I’m talking about. “It’s what they’ve been working toward. People killing people. Only things haven’t worked out the way they want. Which is why they need you. To speed things up. Set mankind against each other.”


At first I have no idea what she’s talking about, but then I slowly put the pieces together. There are Nephilim in the world. I don’t know where or how, or what they look like, but they’re out there. And if what she’s saying is true, then they’ve been influencing the outside world for a long time. Causing wars. Building tension. Hoping humans will pull the trigger on themselves. And while wars have raged and millions died, humanity is still here and more populous and powerful than ever.

But how can I change that? Even instilled with the spirit of Nephil, I’m still just one person. I might be able to control the earth, air and water here on Antarctica, but that won’t help with the rest of the world, and those powers might fade when I leave. Could Nephil be that strong of a leader that the giant Nephilim are afraid to proceed without him? Perhaps his presence will erase tension between the different classes and unite them against the surface world? All of this is possible, but none of it feels right. There’s something else at work. Unfortunately, the only way to figure out what that is, is to take on the mantel of Ull and offer myself—willingly—to Nephil. And by then, it might be too late to change anything.

I’ve lost my appetite and fling a fist full of centipaste on the cave floor. “We should go,” I say. “Before I change my mind.”

Em swallows her last bite with an, “Ugh,” and begins to pack up.

I squat by the river, washing my hands. I see my face, lit by the glow of the crystals, reflected in the smoothly flowing water. I inspect my hair. It’s still red with Em’s blood. But then I see my face, and for the first time I notice how different I look. My jaw is square and when I bite down the sides of my face bulge with muscle. But even stranger than that is my skin. It looks fuzzy. I put my hand to my face and rub. I’m covered in coarse red fuzz. I realize what it is at the same time Emilie speaks about it.

“Leave your beard alone,” she says, and then notices my stunned face. She draws two knives. “What is it?”

“I have a beard?”

She puts the knives away and squats next to me. “You’re of age.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why would I? You’ve always had it.”

That I’ve now had a beard for months, maybe longer, without realizing it stuns me. “Why didn’t Aimee say anything about it?”

She shrugs. “She had other things to say.” She spins a knife between two fingers. “Do you want me to cut it off?”

I look at myself again. The hair makes me look older. Stronger. Like a man. “No,” I say. “Leave it. Ull would like it.”

I stand and take the cresty hood and cloak out of a large satchel. I shake out the cloak and wrap it around my shoulders.

“What would Grumpy think of that?” Em asks.

“Depends,” I say.

“On what?”

“If they were friends.”

Em gets out a final laugh. And then we’re down to business. We pack out what’s left of our gear, I position the skull hood atop my head and we set out for the great cavern.

We reach our destination quickly and stop where the river divides and criss-crosses into the distance. Maybe a half mile to our right is a line of fire rising ten feet tall. Through its flickering flames I see hunters and smaller Nephilim. Standing high above the flames are Nephilim warriors facing our direction. They’re not looking at us, though, they’re looking beyond us. I follow their gaze and find the subject of their attention.

Behemoth.

The giant is squatting, but still looks like a living skyscraper. Its body heaves with each breath and I realize that the wind in this cavern might be partly generated by the thing’s breathing. Tendrils of its rope-like hair twitch like the tails of angry cats. Behemoth is ready to pounce, but maintains his distance.

Em sees the confusion on my face and says, “The flames keep him at bay. Not because of the heat, but the light.”

“Ahh,” I say. Behemoth lives in total and perpetual darkness. There are no crystals here. No natural sources of light. This doesn’t stop the giant from seeing—it’s adjusted to pitch black just like the rest of us—but it does make the creature sensitive to light. The thing is probably tortured by the bright glow of the flames even at this distance. The question is, can it be agitated enough that it will ignore the flames? After all, Ull should make a grand entrance.

I turn to Emilie. “So, this is it.”

Sadness creeps into her face. “Will I see you again?”

When I don’t reply, she adds, “You can lie to me.”

I grin. “Then yes. But don’t focus on me. Look for Doug first. See if he recovered Luca. If he did, take him and don’t look back. If he failed and they still have him, wait for a distraction, and then strike.”

“What distraction?”