The Last Hunter - Lament (Book 4 of the Antarktos Saga) (30 page)

But Aimee knew me this whole time
, I think.
How could she forget me so quickly
?

Xin is quiet for a moment, and I know he is searching her mind now, too.

Her memories are similarly locked
, Xin determines.
But much more recently. The mental scarring is fresh.

Can you undo it
? I ask.

With your help, yes
. I will check the daughter’s memories as—

Something the General has just said pulls me out of my conversation with Xin. I use my perfect memory to replay his words.

“Now if you’ll kindly follow these men to the brig, we can all stay safe until we sort this out.”

I blink, back in the present conversation.

“Son, did you hear me?” he asks. “Did you hear a word I just said?”

“No,” I confess without thinking. My eyes wander to Merrill and then to Aimee. They look the same, confused and concerned, as they should be. My eyes go to Mira. She’s blinking oddly, twisting with discomfort.

Xin’s voice smashes into my mind along with a flood of emotions.
It’s her
! He shouts.
The daughter
!

The surge of emotion squeezes my eyes shut. It’s just for a moment, but when I open them again, Mira has freed her handgun and leveled it at my chest. And when she pulls the trigger, I am too stunned to even react.

32

The striking mechanism inside Mira’s handgun springs forward, connecting with a bullet. The gunpowder ignites, propelling the round out of the gun faster than the speed of the shot’s explosive report. Despite the differences in speed, it all seems to happen in the same fraction of a second, though the moment is dragged out as though moving through tree sap.

Pain stabs my ears as the gunshot reaches them. Then again and again.

Three rounds fired in quick succession.

An impact, like being punched hard, strikes my chest.

The world spins. I see blue sky. The wet, muddy earth of the trampled quad slaps against my back as I topple over.

Air rushes out of my lungs as something heavy pushes down on me.

For a moment, I’m dazed, but then my mind clears, the pain fades and I know without looking that I am not severely injured.

What happened?
I think, looking down.

The weight on top of me. It’s Xin!

“Xin!” I shout, “Are you—”

He lifts his head slowly and looks into my eyes.

She is a shifter
, he thinks.
Not your Mira
.

I look around him and see Mira with her hands raised. Several guards are taking the weapon from her hands. Several more think they are keeping Kainda and Em in place. Kat is the only thing holding them back. Merrill and Aimee look horrified, and honestly, so does the General.

I am sorry, Solomon
, Xin thinks. Though he’s not speaking audibly, he sounds different. Distant.
Mira is dead. Shifters
—

I know
, I think. Shifters kill the people they duplicate. They are an elusive tribe of Nephilim that I only recently encountered after returning from Tartarus. From what I understand, they have only recently returned to Antarctica as they spent most of their time among humanity, in disguise, causing strife, instigating fear and causing wars. They were, and perhaps still are, the trickster gods—Loki, Hermes, Asmodeus, Puck and the like—sons of the most notorious demon, Lucifer. The Devil himself. It is they, not the warriors, who are regarded as the most dangerous of Nephilim. They simply lack the numbers or desires to lead. They’re all about deception, and they excel at it.

You must kill her
, Xin thinks.
Avenge me
.

Avenge you
?

I am lost
, he thinks, pushing himself up a little.

I look down and see a golf ball sized hole in his chest. The bullet must have struck his back and exited through his chest, missing me entirely. Red blood drips from his chest to mine.

I will last a little while longer, but I will not survive. You must kill her before she realizes her assassination attempt has failed.

Xin... Brother...

Act now, Solomon! My death has always been inevitable. Show them why only you can lead!

His words and urgency fuel my brewing rage. I roll Xin onto his back as gently as I can. As I stand and face the doppelganger, Xin transmits a name into my thoughts.
Amaguq
. Countless encyclopedias worth of knowledge flits through my head. Amaguq. The Inuit trickster god. A massive wolf that killed hunters at night.

Not this hunter
, I think, then call out the name. “Amaguq!”

Mira’s eyes lock on mine, confirming that she is not, in fact, Mirabelle Whitney.

Whipsnap cracks to life in my hand, making those around me jump back. Some of the soldiers point their weapons at me. “Put them down,” I growl.

“Don’t kill her,” Merrill says, stepping in front of me. “She’s my only daughter.”

“Mirabella...” Sadness threatens to dull my anger, but I remind myself that the creature responsible for all of this is pretending to be Mira. “Your daughter is dead.”

Merrill just looks confused. Mira appears to be alive and well.

“Amaguq,” I say, repeating the name, confident that he’ll understand.

“The Inuit trickster god, but what—” Merrill has seen the Nephilim. He knows that strange and otherworldly things have happened here. He might not remember me, but he remembers his encounters with the Nephilim—the giants who posed as gods to the ancients. “No...”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “But this is
not
your daughter. You might not remember me. Or trust me. But you know your daughter. She tried to kill me, and instead killed my brother.” Merrill glances down at Xin, who now has a crying Luca kneeling by his side. Neither are speaking, but I’m sure they are saying goodbye in a more private way. Luca is Xin’s brother as much as I am. “Look at her, Merrill. That is
not
your girl.”

Merrill glances back at Mira, sees the hate seething in her eyes. When he turns back to me, tears have begun filling his eyes. Without another word, he steps aside. The message is clear to everyone.

“Merrill!” Aimee says. He holds her back, whispering urgently into her ear.

When I step toward Mira, who is being held by two soldiers, General Holloway blocks my path. “Son, I will not let you—”

When the air suddenly leaves his lungs, Holloway loses his voice and stumbles back. I didn’t make a move, but the soldiers surrounding us somehow know that I am to blame. Weapons turn in my direction. The only two soldiers not pointing weapons at me are the men holding Mira. Right now, they’re in the most danger. Again, without making a move other than to step closer to Mira, I command the wind. It drops down fast from above, directly over Mira’s head, sending the two soldiers sprawling away.

Half the men with guns turn their weapons on Mira now, believing her to be the source of the strange power that sent their comrades flying. It’s not accurate, but it’s a welcome shift in attention.

Mira hisses at them, and then at me.

The inhuman sound elicits a sad wail from Aimee. Merrill has no doubt told her the truth. The hiss confirmed it, but I know they’re about to get a much less subtle confirmation that this is not their daughter. I’ve seen the transformation from human form to Nephilim once before, when I killed the shifter known as Eshu. It is something I would like to forget, but it is also something I need to instigate now. If I kill it now, while it looks like Mira, I will appear to be the monster, but if it changes...if these men who have not yet seen the enemy, get a taste of what they are facing, and see how I handle it, they might very well recognize the need for my leadership.

“I killed your brother,” I taunt. “Eshu.”

Another hiss, a bit angrier than the last.

“He was weak,” I say. “Frail. He died pitifully. Begged for mercy.”

It doesn’t sound like much of an insult, but to a Nephilim, it is blasphemous.

Mira’s fingers stiffen into hooks. The beast inside wants to tear me apart. But first it must expose itself.

I point Whipsnap’s blade at its face. “You will beg, too.”

Mira turns her head skyward and screams, “Father! I will not bear these insults any longer!” She hooks her fingers into her open mouth.

And pulls.

A wet tearing sound makes me cringe. I know this is not Mira, but seeing her form tearing itself apart makes me feel ill.

The roar grows louder as Mira’s light brown skin tears in two. Two horns, each nearly a foot long, emerge from the forehead. Her body expands, as though pumped full of air from within, then the weak spots burst. Purple blood sprays in every direction, forming a circle around her body.

The mass of spectators who had not yet backed away, do so quickly now. As the monster grows, shedding its human skin and clothes, Em, Kainda and Adoni arrive at my side. All of them have their weapons ready.

“Same as last time,” Adoni says with his thick Australian accent. When I faced Eshu, I was not alone. It took the four of us to defeat him. But this fight is mine to face on my own.

“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.