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

“No,” I say. “I need to do this.”


“Sol,” Em says, “Eshu nearly—”

“I remember. But I need to do this for me.” I nod to the Clarks and then to all the soldiers watching. “For them. As their leader.”

“Be careful,” Em says.

“No,” Kainda grumbles. She looks me in the eyes and speaks with conviction. “Be merciless.”

An explosion of flesh pulls me back to the shifter. His ten-foot form is now fully exposed. Red skin and shiny scales cover his devil-like body. Double rows of sharp teeth gnash. The six fingers on each hand are hooked like talons, each sporting a sharp, one-inch long fingernail.

The soldiers, rightly terrified, open fire. Ten of them empty their magazines into the beast. Purple blood pours over the red body. Amaguq reels back, roaring in pain. But this is a Nephilim. The bullets piercing his skin and spilling his blood, delight him. Still, he is wounded and off balance.

I could end it. Right here. Right now. He wouldn’t be able to stop me.

But I don’t.

I wait.

They need to see. They need to understand. Hearing stories is one thing, seeing is believing.

“What the hell?” a man says behind me.

Wounds cover Amaguq’s body. The small dark holes oozing purple blood are easy to spot. But one by one, the wounds disappear.

“Get back!” I shout. “Everyone back!”

They listen. Even the general. And just like that, I’m in charge. At least for the moment.

Now all I need to do is survive this fight.

Amaguq rights himself, twists his neck from side to side, and roars at me.

I roar back. And charge.





33



Rage fuels my attack, and for a moment, I feel like Ull again. All of my cunning, intellect and yes, mercy, take a back seat. The problem with this is that Amaguq fights in the exact same way, but with one enormous advantage. He heals, fast. So it doesn’t really matter that I draw first blood, stabbing the bladed tip of Whipsnap into his shoulder and yanking it out, cutting muscle and flesh. The arm hangs limp for just a second, and as a result, I’ve left myself open for a counterattack.

The wind aids my leap away, responding to my instincts rather than any mental command. If it hadn’t, the fight would have been lost. Amaguq’s long fingernails would have eviscerated me, spilling my guts. Instead, the bone-like nails leave six horizontal scratches across my belly.

The sting should have sobered me up, but I’m still drunk with fury. This monster, this abomination, killed Mira—the girl who filled me with hope all those years in the underworld. For the longest time, the Polaroid photo I carried of her was all that kept me sane. And then she was here, returned to her mother. She even managed to kill Enki before falling unconscious into the lake where she was saved by Gloop.

Gloop.

If Mira was captured by Amaguq, it would have happened while Gloop and the seal pod were transporting her out to sea. I come to the conclusion that Gloop is also dead. How many friends and allies is that now? Six?

A roar builds from deep inside me and I lunge at Amaguq. I strike out several times with the blade tip, thrusting, swinging and spinning. The ceaseless flurry forces the shifter back, but he is in no danger. He stands ten feet tall. To kill him I must remove his head, which means I either need to get airborne or bring him to his knees. I’d prefer the latter—I don’t just want to kill him, I want to humiliate him—so I press the attack.

Purple blood flies as I hack away. Bones break as the mace, powered by the flexible staff, crushes Amaguq’s forearms again and again. But the beast never slows. Never tires. And has even begun to laugh.

“Pitiful thing,” he taunts. “If you mean to impress your flock, I believe you are failing.”

I glance to the side and see a terrified line of faces. They’re not just afraid of Amaguq’s horrible visage, they’re afraid I can’t win because no matter how much I hack away, he keeps on fighting. Worse, he’s making a show of how much he enjoys the pain.

Pointing this out was Amaguq’s first real mistake, because it returns some sanity to my mind. I’m not just fighting to avenge Mira, and Xin, I’m fighting to show these people that the Nephilim can be defeated. I had hoped to do it without using my powers, to reveal a man can kill the beast, but that’s not what they need.

They need inspiration.

I twist Whipsnap around, pointing the tip at Amaguq’s chest. We square off, circling each other.

“Any last words?” I ask.

He squints at me, perhaps confused by the confidence leaking into my voice.

“I will kill you,” he says.

“I am the vessel of Nephil,” I reply.

He sneers, understanding the message. He cannot kill me. The Nephilim need me alive.

“I am a son of Lucifer,” he growls back. “I do not answer to Ophion, or to any warrior.”