The Last Hunter - Collected Edition (44 page)

The majority of hunters surrounding me break ranks and run.

But not everyone runs. Enki remains. As do the other ancient kings. They stand among Lord Nephil now and flight is not possible.

And Ninnis. He doesn’t show any reaction to Behemoth’s approach. He continues his calm walk toward me. I look into his eyes and sense the power there. Even with Behemoth’s distraction, I will not be able to escape. Ninnis on his own would be a challenge, but he’s now powered by the body and spirit of Nephil.

With the last of my strength, I direct the wind at him, hoping to knock him back and give me a moment to run—if my legs can still manage it. But he walks through the gust as though it’s a gentle breeze.

“You cannot run,” Ninnis says, his voice more sinister than ever before.

I step away, matching his pace in reverse so that there is a constant ten feet between us.

“And you cannot live.” Ninnis unfurls Strike at his side.

Cannot live?

But they need me alive.

Nephil wouldn’t—

This
isn’t
Nephil!

Ninnis contains all of the power and strength of Nephil, as well as the allegiance of the Nephilim, but he has retained control of his body and mind. And to keep it that way, he needs me dead.

He sees the realization in my eyes and smiles. “Little Solomon, you never were strong enough to claim this power as your own.”

He feints a thrust and I jump back.

I look behind me. The depressing darkness of Tartarus is just five feet away.

If Ninnis kills me, he wins. The Nephilim win. I cannot let that happen.

I take a step back and ready my weapon.

Ninnis laughs. “You are weak, boy. You pose no threat to me now.”

“I know,” I say, “But I will not let you kill me.”

“You have no choice.”

“There is always a choice,” I say. It’s a lesson I wish every hunter in the under-world would learn. To punctuate my statement, I take another step back.

Surprise registers on Ninnis’s face. “You wouldn’t.”

I take another step. I can feel the darkness tingling around me.

“Why?” he asks.

For some reason, I think him not knowing will eat him up inside, so I simply say, “I hope you figure it out someday. Goodbye, Ninnis.”

I see his face contort with confusion, as I take one more step back.

Then I see nothing.

The darkness has swallowed me.

And in an instant I realize I’ve made a mistake.

I’ve never felt such sadness. Such loneliness. Even the voice of Ull is gone once again.

I step forward, hoping to stand before Ninnis again. I would prefer a thousand deaths to the sorrow that consumes me. I try to gather my thoughts. I’m still me. My mind is still intact. But when a shiver wracks my body, I realize just how helpless I have become.

I can no longer feel the land, water and air. This realm is physical, but somehow separate from Antarctica. And for the first time since setting foot on the continent of my birth, I feel…

Cold.

Epilogue

Lieutenant Ninnis felt proud once more. After a lifetime of servitude and submission he had finally proved his worth. As a man. As a hunter. And now, as Lord of the Nephilim. While Nephil had not fully bonded to him, mind and spirit, he contained all of the power and desires of the ancient demon.

Except for one. Nephil still wanted the boy. Solomon. Only then could Nephil be fully in control. And while Ninnis served the Nephilim with all of his being, he did not want to give up this power.

He could feel it burning inside him, rotting him from the inside even as he grew stronger. But he believed it would be better to burn bright, like a star, for a moment than to remain in the shadows. He would lead the Nephilim to the surface. He would wage war on humanity. And he would instill a new era of Nephilim rule on this planet.

Having completed all of that, his death, and Nephil’s, would be acceptable to him. Though he knew the ancient being, whose spirit wouldn’t carry on in death, disagreed. That said, there was also no choice. The boy was gone. Far from their reach in the realm of Tartarus.

Ninnis frowned as he remembered Solomon’s final act. His willingness to not just die, but endure eternal torture rather than give himself over to his enemies, revealed a strength Ninnis did not believe possible. He’d been wrong about the boy. He wasn’t just strong enough to contain the spirit of Nephil, he’d been strong enough to repel it.

Pain gripped Ninnis’s chest. He rubbed his hand over the spot, thinking of Solomon’s face disappearing in the dark grip of Tartarus. It was a sacrifice he could not comprehend. His thoughts drifted to the message Solomon had once carved in a wall. ‘I forgive you.’ He’d thought the words hollow. Left to taunt him. To make him feel weak.

But now? The boy’s convictions proved real.

And were he not confined in Tartarus, Solomon might actually be a threat. His power wasn’t simply physical, it was also transformative.

In the aftermath of Solomon’s departure, Ninnis had ordered a census. Behemoth had devoured hundreds. The dinosaurs killed another thirty. Ninnis himself had slain twenty-five before claiming the flesh of Nephil. He wanted to know the state of their forces before the battle was waged. What he discovered was surprising, not because of how many were dead, but because of how many had deserted. Thirty-six hunters were missing, including his daughter, Kainda. He couldn’t be sure they’d all turned against the Nephilim, but it was possible some, inspired by the boy’s sacrifice, found some part of themselves that had been buried since their breaking.

If that spread, if all the hunters were won over, a war would need to be fought here on Antarctica before they could move to the outside world.

But that would never happen. With the boy gone, his influence would never spread.

A hot wind surged past Ninnis. He turned his eyes up, looking at the bright sun which now hung in the sky for so long.

When he bonded with Nephil, he became aware of everything the demon had experienced, including his battle for control of the boy—a battle that identified at least one traitor—Xin, who had thus far eluded capture. But he also recalled the very first moments of the bonding, when Nephil’s spirit nearly took full control of Solomon. As he realized the host was not willing, he reached out and grasped the land, the whole Earth, and wrenched it free from its moorings. It was the opening salvo of their assault on the surface—a first strike that had already claimed countless lives.

Ninnis smiled as he looked at the scene around him. He stood atop a mountain that just a month ago was covered in snow, but which now held the first signs of green growth. The Earth’s crust had shifted. Antarctica had been relocated to the equator. From his perch, he watched rivers of melt water flow into the ocean. Far in the distance, he could see giant ice shelves floating away. They had reshaped the world and made the Nephilim’s home a paradise once again. And the land became fertile, spurred on by the healing properties of Nephilim blood spilled into the earth. But that wasn’t all. The continent was expanding. Growing. With trillions upon trillions of tons of ice flowing away, the massive weight pushing the continent deeper below sea level had lifted.

Ninnis let out a laugh that rolled down the mountainside and over the exposed citadel of Olympus.

Antarktos was rising.