The Last Hunter - Lament (Book 4 of the Antarktos Saga) (31 page)

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.”

“You will answer to me,” I say, and make sure it’s loud enough for everyone to hear. I let a grin show.

A gust of wind strikes his back like a charging bull. He falls forward. The impact arches his back and flings his arms out to the sides. I don’t even have to move. The blade tip of Whipsnap stabs through his chest, tearing through breastplate, flesh and heart, if he has one. With a crunchy slurp, the blade emerges from his back, covered in purple gore.

I will need to clean Whipsnap’s staff where the blood runs over it before I can touch it again, but it doesn’t matter now. The fight is over, though Amaguq doesn’t quite realize it yet.

He laughs loudly, straightening himself. I see his fingers hook and the shimmer of his red, scaly skin as his biceps flex. He’s going to try grabbing me. If he succeeds, I’ll die quickly. But I don’t intend on giving him the chance. Without moving a muscle, I send a gust of wind in the opposite direction, slamming him away from me.

There’s a hard tug on my arms as the blade pulls free from his already healing body. But the wound is grave and he’s not so quick to recover. He sits up, clutching his chest. Purple blood flows from the wound, and from his mouth. For anyone else, it would have been a mortal wound. For Amaguq, it’s a speed bump, which is all I wanted.

He laughs again and I hear a moan of fright from some of the spectators.

Purple blood covers his double rows of sharpened teeth. It’s a sick grin. And I take pleasure in wiping it from his face.

“You should have got the wings,” I say.

The look on his face says,
huh?
but then understanding fills his eyes.

Amaguq is scooped from the earth by an invisible force. It happens so quickly, so violently, that many of his bones break. He’s launched skyward like a rocket, his scream fading into the distance. Inside of ten seconds, he’s just a speck.

That’s when I let him go.

The scream returns, growing louder as the ten foot, devil-like giant reaches terminal velocity.

As I watch him fall, I hear gasps, excited talking and even a few claps. But this won’t be the end of it, and I don’t intend it to be. Not quite yet.

The impact is horrible, disgusting in every way imaginable. The sound is a wet, dull thump combined with a crack loud enough to be a fireworks explosion. The impact shakes the ground. One of his arms flies free, separated at the shoulder joint. Fluids, purple and white, flow from the body. The head cracks open and for the first time, I get a glimpse of a Nephilim brain—it’s as black as I imagine their hearts to be.

The slowly rising cheer around me cuts off quickly when Amaguq moves.

He’s broken, but not yet dead.

“It’s alive!” someone shouts. It’s the voice of a young man, perhaps someone who has never seen battle before and is now faced with this. Amaguq’s body begins to reform, though very slowly. There isn’t a part of him that doesn’t need to heal. I’m not even sure he can think right now.

I could kill him. Take off his head right now and be done with it. But I have one more demonstration, and for Amaguq, it will be far worse than having his body reduced to sludge.

“He
is
alive,” I shout to the men and women surrounding us. “You have probably heard that your enemy, these Nephilim, are monstrous and impossible to kill. But now you have seen it for yourself. You have seen what your bullets can do against them.”

It’s not the most inspirational speech, I know, but it’s the truth and it is the only thing that will prepare these soldiers for what is coming.

“They delight in pain. They revel in death. After they have killed you, they will consume your flesh. And when they are done with you here, they will move out into the world like a plague, bringing terror and death to all of humanity.”

I turn slowly, looking as many of the soldiers in the eyes as I can. I find Em in the crowd. She looks unsure. I give her a wink that says, “I know what I’m doing,” and she’s put at ease, though just a little bit.

Are you still with me, brother
?

I am here, Solomon
,
but time is short
, Xin responds.
Your method is intriguing
.

Can you connect me with Kat
? I ask.

It is done.

“All of this will come to pass,” I say aloud. “Unless you follow me.”

A wet gurgle of a laugh fills the air. Amaguq is recovering. I glance over my shoulder. He’s on one knee, struggling to stay upright, but healing faster now.

Kat walks toward me, responding to my request. Amaguq cannot see her, but our audience can. She slowly unwraps the bundle in her arms, which garners confused comments from the crowd.

“Turn,” Amaguq demands. “Face me at your end!”

Kat stops in front of me. I drop Whipsnap to the ground and take her delivery in my hands.

“Bold move, kid,” she whispers. “I like it.” She glances over my shoulder. “By the way, I think he’s going to kill you now.”

I feel the rumble of Amaguq’s footstep behind me. He’s just ten feet away. Two more steps and he’ll be close enough to kill me.

I let him take one more step before turning around.

The look in his eyes when he looks down at what I’m holding is priceless. The abject fear and horror that cuts into his face is so pure that every man and woman watching will recognize the expression.

The unkillable monster is terrified.

I put the Jericho shofar to my lips, and I blow. Hard.

The sound that comes out is both deep and high pitched—not exactly pleasant on the ears, but Amaguq reacts to it like he’s just been doused with acid. He falls to the ground flailing, thrashing and spitting. He screams in agony—real agony. All of the pleasure is gone from his voice, replaced by unadulterated pain. And torture.

The soldiers watching don’t know what’s happening, but I do. Amaguq’s heart is softening, perhaps breaking, as he is made to understand the darkness of his kind. The weight of all the evil, corruption and death that he has spawned over the past few thousand years is landing square on his shoulders. An impossible weight to bear.

When I end the horn blast, the words that come from his mouth bring a smile to my face.

“Please stop!” the monster wails. “Please! I’m sorry!” His words descend into a blubbering mess of desperate pleading and sorrow. I hand the shofar back to Kat, who carefully wraps it again. Turning back to Amaguq, I crouch and pick up Whipsnap.

Amaguq sees the weapon in my hand, and then begs me, “Kill me, please! I don’t want to live anymore.”

I step closer. “You will cease to exist.”

“Please, kill me!”

Even I am surprised by the shofar’s effect. I expected something less, maybe a painful distraction. But not in my wildest dreams did I think the Nephilim would drop to the ground, bow their heads and beg for death. The effect will wear off, I know, but the result is far more powerful than I expected, which is also a testament to Nephil’s power. The horn hurt him, but it did not do this.

I grip Whipsnap well below the poisonous purple blood coating the bladed end. I step closer, intending to grant the beast’s request.

Wait
.

It’s Xin.

Why
? I ask.

Place your hand upon his head. In his weakened state, we will have full access to his mind
.

Quickly understanding the benefit of this, I stand above the bowed form of Amaguq and place my hand on his forehead. I feel the force of Xin’s will move through my body and into Amaguq’s mind, then I’m tugged along for the ride, entering the consciousness of a Nephilim.