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

Do you know about the experiments? I think to Xin. The duplicates of me?

Abominations, he replies. Destroyed as they should have been.

Not all of them.

How do you know? Xin asks.

A teacher, I think, but I keep Aimee’s identity hidden. She told me some were left alive. Six of them.

The blood of six Nephilim races around the carved out tracks that end in six straight lines. The lines lead to the circle surrounding me. It won’t be long.

Impossible, Xin says.

I’m not sure where Xin is. It’s possible he’s not even in the chamber, but I ask, Can you see the boy with Kainda?

I can.

Search his face. His eyes. They are mine.

Xin says nothing for a moment.

During his silence, the six trails of blood reach the inner circle simultaneously and begin to surround me.

Search his mind if you have to!

More silence. The blood is close to spilling over into the shallow bowl in which I stand.

It’s true, Xin says. He is you.

Not me, I think. My brother.

Xin is intelligent. Like me. So I know he’s understood what I’m telling him. But I say it clearly for him so there is no chance of a misunderstanding. You are my brother, Xin. As is Luca, the boy. You were both created…from me. We are family. We are brothers.

Xin doesn’t reply and I fear the silence will be permanent this time. Xin, in many ways, is a monster. He is half Nephilim, after all, born from a breeder, unlike Luca, whose mother was human. But Xin is also good. He showed that to me when he saved my life. I believe he sensed the bond between us even then. But I fear the revelation of his true origin might be more than he can process.

I reach out to him one more time, Xin! Speak to me! But he does not return and even if he did, I would not hear him. The blood circle overflows. Trickling paths of blood slip over the side and roll toward my feet. As it does, Enki shouts a command.

Chains snap taut and fifty Nephilim giants grunt as they put all their strength into pulling open the gates of Tartarus. Enki turns his face toward me. “Ull, chosen of the Nephilim, do you willingly give yourself to the spirit of Nephil?”

My breath quickens as my heart pumps adrenaline through my veins. I glance to Luca. He looks as terrified as me. My eyes shift to Kainda. She’s watching me with an expression that catches me off guard.

There is pity in her eyes.

She knows I am not Ull. She knows what I am sacrificing for the boy.

Her eyes glisten and a single tear falls.

I look back up at Enki. “I do.”

The blood reaches my feet.

A searing heat reaches up through my body, burning like the sun. I scream, but remain rooted in place. My body convulses. I feel my mind and thoughts fading, but I fight for lucidity.

There is chanting all around me now, loud and insistent.

A strong wind billows past me, but it has nothing to do with my abilities. Until Luca is safe, I cannot reveal myself. A loud groan like a fog horn rolls out of the opening doors. Through blurry vision, I see only blackness beyond the doors. But somewhere in the dark, something moves.

I hear the name of Nephil repeated again and again as the chanting grows more fervent. And then I see it. A black shape, like a cloud, reaching out for me, stretching its limbs out like a striking squid.

The black tendrils reach me and stab into my chest, clutching my chest in a frigid grip. I feel my heart stop, but the heat burning up from my feet restarts it. I die again and again, but am quickly brought back each time.

Pain explodes in my stomach and then surges through my body as though it’s flowing through my veins. I’m not sure if I’ve stopped screaming yet, but I’m suddenly aware of my shrieking voice again. The pain moves up through my chest. My jugular feels like it will burst as the pain moves higher. And then it’s in my head. There is a flash of white hot pain and then the world ceases to exist.

The circle of blood is gone.

The army of Nephilim is no more.

The cavern. Behemoth. Luca. Kainda. All gone.

I am alone in a world of painless white.

A voice booms around me. “Who are you?”

“Solomon Ull Vincent,” I say.

“The chosen?”

“I am,” I say.

“Why have you locked me away?”

This is Nephil, I realize. And he knows I’ve locked away the small bit of his personality that was transferred to me when I consumed his flesh.

“Because,” I say, flexing my hands and gritting my teeth. “This is my body. My mind. And it will never belong to you!”

“You think you can resist me?” The voice shouts and suddenly I’m standing in front of the mental vault door Xin helped put in place. The black form is there too, flowing with black tendrils. It reaches for the door, snakes its way into the cracks and pulls.