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

“I’m not sure you fully understand the message of that story,” I say, walking toward the giant. Mira lingers behind, staying by the tree, which is a good choice.

Ares spits purple blood. The wad lands near my feet. I stop. No need to put myself at risk for the sake of bravado. “You should have stayed in Tartarus.”

He frowns at this. I’ve actually managed to strike a nerve. “We all have to live with our choices,” he says, then he glances at my arm. “How are you feeling, Ull?”

I glance down at the arm. The wound looks the same. I ignore the question, and focus on the earth around Ares’s legs, willing it to rise up and lock him down. But he’s quick and leaps back into the air before I can catch him. For a moment, I think he’s going to flee and get help, which would be a serious problem, but this is a Nephilim warrior. He’s proud, like a hunter. He won’t ask for help, he’ll—

“Solomon, watch out!” Kainda shouts.

The tip of Ares’s spear resolves in my vision. I drop down and feel the blade pass over my head. A blond tuft of cut hair tickles my back as it falls. The spear slams into the tree, just feet away from Mira who had already leapt to the side.

But how did I not see the spear coming?

How was I not aware he was going to attack?

He couldn’t have been moving too fast. Both Kainda and Mira reacted before I did. It’s me, I think. My perceptions are slow.

To punctuate the realization, Ares swoops down, lands in front of me and backhands me. I slide across the jungle floor, cushioned by leaf litter and mud. Had I struck a tree, like Ares did, I’d be dead. Of course, I’m now in so much pain that death might have been a mercy.

I fight against the pain and get to my feet, happy to find everything working and no bones broken. As Ares stalks toward me, Kainda throws her hammer at his head, but the weapon just clangs against the metal ring and falls to the ground. The ring should have come free.

Ares laughs, and my anger surges. I leap into the air, carrying myself up with the wind and tug Whipsnap from my belt. I arc up above the warrior and as I drop down, a focused burst of air strikes the metal ring from below. The plan was to remove the ring and plunge the spear tip into Ares’s head, but the ring does not come off. Instead, it simply moves a little. But in that motion, I catch a glimpse of what’s happening.

The metal rings worn by Nephilim warriors typically rest on the head, like a metal headband. It’s goofy looking, like the headbands worn by some basketball players, but it protects them. That is, unless you knock it off, which isn’t too hard to do if you know what you’re doing. But this metal band is held in place by four spikes that have been driven into Ares’s head. It’s not coming off.

A second gust of wind carries me up and over the warrior. As I pass by, his scorpion tail, which was concealed by a long red cape, lashes out and nearly strikes my chest. But I don’t see it until it’s already retracting for another strike. I survived by dumb luck alone.

What is wrong with me?

I land beside Kainda and stumble.

“Are you all right?” she asks.

“The crown is nailed to his head,” I say. “I can’t get it off.”

“Then you’ll have to remove it,” she says.

“I just said—”

“Not the crown,” she says. “His head.”

My eyes widen. How am I going to do that? Whipsnap’s blade isn’t nearly long enough to do the job. Sure, if Ares laid down and patiently waited, I might be able to hack through his neck, but he’s going to heal just as fast as I can swing.

A wave of dizziness swirls through my body. I grunt and stagger.

“Damnit, Solomon,” Kainda growls and then leaves my side. When I look up, I see her charging out to meet Ares, who is headed toward us. She dodges two blows and manages a strike against his shin, but he merely kicks her away. I reach out with the wind, catching her before she strikes a tree. Nausea tears through my body as I lower Kainda to the ground.

When she’s safe, I fall to my knees and vomit. Hard.

“Feeling ill?” Ares says, stomping closer.

I know he doesn’t want to kill me. Nephil will want me alive. I am his vessel, after all. But that’s a fate worse than death.

“Shut. Up!” I scream, my voice more of a roar. I’m filled with a rage so intense that I wonder if my Ull personality has once again taken over.

Ares chuckles. “Feeling...angry?”

I grind my teeth, seething with raw hatred. Just as I’m about to leap up and launch myself at Ares, I see the wound on my arm again. It’s pink around the edges. Hot. Raw. The arrow wasn’t poisoned...it was laced with blood.

Infected blood.

I’m becoming a berserker.





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