They both realized that they were mortal, and that both had survived this long only through the intervention of the spirit world.
Trent and the Hunter loathed one another, as did Ka’a and the Elder. The path to bring all four of them together had not been a straight one, but as Trent and the Hunter stood there, preparing for what would be their final fight, Trent somehow knew that their nexus had been unavoidable.
The Hunter grinned darkly as he walked with ease toward Trent, still hip-deep in the stream.
Trent waited—his face set, he realized, in an animalistic snarl.
As the Hunter drew nearer, Ka’a’s darkness spread rapidly throughout him as he became more animal than man. Not only could he see the Hunter approaching, but he saw the fish under the water as they swam past; he smelled the Hunter’s fetid breath and the sour odor from his body; he heard every step even though the Hunter’s feet were under water; and he felt his own body drop into a crouch, coiled and ready to strike.
The Hunter looked at Trent as he drew his hunting knife and said something that Trent could no longer understand.
The details didn’t matter. He knew what the Hunter intended.
Trent wouldn’t have answered even if he were capable of doing so.
Instead, he heard a low growl boom from his own throat.
Before the Hunter could even lift his knife, Trent jumped across the last ten feet that separated them and landed on top of the surprised man, knocking the blade from his hand. Trent pulled back his right arm and clubbed the Hunter in the head, just as the Hunter brought his knee up and struck Trent in the stomach.
In less than a second, the two of them were exchanging furious blows in the moonlit stream, at first while ankle deep in the water, and then later while covered in cold mud from the wet shore.
The Hunter fought with superhuman strength, but it paled in comparison to Trent’s animal ferocity. If Trent had possessed the size and the claws of an actual bear, he would have disemboweled the Hunter in two seconds.
The two men rolled in the mud and Trent saw himself punch the Hunter hard in the throat, crushing the man’s larynx. With one blow, the man was defenseless, and as much as he despised the Hunter, Trent would not have pressed his attack further if it had been his decision to make.
But Trent was not the one in charge.
Instead, he watched as his own hand slashed out at the Hunter with Ka’a’s claw. In one fatal second, a bloody seam opened up across the Hunter’s abdomen.
The Hunter gripped his stomach, literally trying to hold himself together while he wheezed and also struggled to breathe. As the Hunter stumbled backward, Trent stayed on him, not allowing the Hunter even a second to regroup.
Trent knew that the Elder’s spirit was still inside the Hunter, desperately trying to heal his son quickly enough for him to live, but it looked to Trent like he had finally done enough damage that the battle had turned for good.
At one point, the Hunter put his hands up to shield his face from Trent’s relentless strikes. He half-expected to hear the man beg for mercy.
But he did not.
Trent’s disdain for the Hunter was no less than it had ever been, but up until now, the man had always been a survivor.
With nowhere left to go, the Hunter fell to his knees and backed into the freezing stream again, like some mangled crab doing his best to escape someone trying to step on it. Trent wondered if the Hunter was trying to get to the middle of the stream where the water was deepest so that he could let the current whisk him away to safety.
It was the last hope of a fool.
Before the Hunter could get to the middle of the stream, Trent pounced on him again, picked him up, and threw him back in the direction of the shore. His body landed with a crumpling thud on top of a large, flat boulder sticking out of the water.
Trent waded over to his broken opponent, but the Hunter didn’t move.
The Hunter lay on his back, sprawled out across the rock, with blood and entrails seeping out of his abdomen as he pathetically tried to fill his lungs with air. His swollen face contorted in pain, and his eyes squeezed shut.
The Hunter was almost done.
Trent stood over him and watched as the man opened his eyes and looked around in a stupor.
It was then that Trent smelled the familiar odor of fish and death he had come to know so well.
He turned to look behind him. The sky was slowly starting to lighten with the approaching dawn, and Trent saw six grizzly bears at different locations alongside the opposite shore. He had not heard them approach, and didn’t know how long they had been watching. As he took in the scene, several gray wolves emerged from the dense foliage on the far side of the stream as well.
Trent turned back to the Hunter, whose eyes were opened wide in fear.
Behind the Hunter, on the near shore, four grizzlies and two large black bears were illuminated by the half-moon overhead as they watched in stony silence.
Trent had no compassion for the Hunter, but he felt an unexpected connection with the man as his fate drew closer.
Ka’a felt no such connection with or empathy for the Hunter, and Trent watched as his own hand grabbed a large rock, lifted it over his head, and brought it down with a sickening crack—first onto the Hunter’s left leg and then—lifting it again—down onto the man’s right leg.
The Hunter howled in pain, crying and grabbing at his now useless legs as Trent watched in horror at his own actions from inside his head.
Next, he watched himself lunge forward and grab the Hunter’s right arm. With a single movement, Trent braced his knee on the Hunter’s elbow and pulled back on his arm as hard as he could.
No human arm was meant to bend in that direction, and the joint easily snapped, causing the Hunter’s eyes to roll into the back of his head. The Hunter lay on the rock and whimpered. His breathing was erratic, and he seemed as if he would soon black out from the pain.
But whether the Hunter was really that tough or the spirit of the Elder was still trying to help him, the Hunter remained conscious, even as Trent broke his other arm, leaving him an immobile torso of a man.
Trent backed away. He had done so much damage that he doubted the Elder’s spirit could ever put his son back together again.
What he did know was that neither the Hunter nor Trent would ever find out.
Trent heard himself growl in a low tone, then watched as he waded back to shore.
The Hunter sneered and said something in a broken voice that Trent could not understand.
Trent kept walking as the Hunter continued to speak.
He walked casually by one of the eight-foot tall grizzlies that moaned as he passed. When Trent made it to the top of the bank, he turned around to see over a dozen animals slowly moving toward the defenseless Hunter.
Grizzlies, black bears, and wolves—animals that would normally be at odds with each other, came at the Hunter from both sides of the stream. Tonight they were united in purpose for the kill that was about to occur.
Trent and Ka’a watched the scene unfold as the animals descended on the Hunter, slashing at him with their claws, rending his flesh with their teeth, and pulling the skin from his body, piece by agonizing piece.
The Hunter’s screams were short-lived, but seemed to echo long after his life was over.
Unlike the mauling he had received from the homeless people back in Vegas, there would be no surviving this slaughter.
The attack ended as suddenly as it had begun, with each of the animals turning around and returning to the forest from where they had come, their fur and teeth stained with human blood.
On the rock where the Hunter had lain, there remained only a thick stain of liquids and internal organs with the occasional fragment of bone poking out.
It was a sight that was beyond gruesome, but even as Trent felt the spirit of Ka’a subside and the control of his mind and body returning, he felt no pity for the man. He was sure that, even in death, the Hunter had learn
ed nothing of his errors in life.
The Hunter had been dealt a poor hand by his father, but everyone had choices to make. And the Hunter had just paid for his.
Trent looked up and saw the dawn breaking. The sky was a light grey instead of a clear blue, and a new snow started to fall.
The world was a better place without the Hunter, and Trent suspected that Ka’a’s spirit was one shade closer to white. As Trent turned his back on the carnage, his thoughts returned to Zana and Christina.
He touched the necklace around his neck and looked at his partial reflection in the polished silver disc. As much as the battle with the Hunter had been the hardest thing he had ever done, he looked forward even less to deciding what to do about Zana and Christina.
Trent slowly made his way back up the mountain and found the entrance to the Shaman’s forest, where he had marked the trees with Ka’a’s claw. As he entered the mystical woods, he weighed the pros and cons of being in a relationship with either woman or of just remaining single.
He chuckled as he realized that he was falling back to his old ways—that he was trying to apply logic to an inherently illogical problem. Instead, he decided that he had to listen to his heart.
He knew that he was falling in love with Zana, even though they had been together for only a short period of time. There was something about the two of them together that made one complete person out of them both.
Chapter 47
THE HUNTER lay, incapable of movement, on the flat, ice-cold slab of rock.
There’s no coming back from what he did to you this time, boy. Not with those animals waiting to finish you off…
Up until this point, the Hunter thought that his father’s spirit would save him again, but the old man was right. There would be no surviving this.
The Hunter had heard that people watched their lives pass before their eyes when they brushed up against death, but all he saw were the horrible things he had done to both human and animal alike since he was a young man. He didn’t regret anything, but he knew that the paths he had chosen had led him to the death he was about to face.
As Walker turned his back on him and left him to his fate, the Hunter heard his own voice threatening the man, but they both knew that his words were meaningless and hollow.
The Hunter only had to wait a matter of seconds before the end began. He saw, heard, and smelled the bears and the wolves walking through the stream and then surrounding him, nudging him with their heads and claws.
I’m not going to lie to you, boy. This ain’t gonna be pretty, and it’s gonna hurt like hell.
“I’ll get back at him,” the Hunter whispered. “Those animals aren’t the only ones who can come back from being dead.”
Hold onto that thought, son. This’ll be over soon.
For the first time in his life, the Hunter thought that he heard a hint of compassion in his father’s voice.
His thought was cut short as the first bear tore open his guts with a slash of its claws. He struggled to remain conscious as he was eviscerated, but it was not to be.
The Hunter was stronger than most men.
But he wasn’t strong enough for this.
By the time his body finally died, he was already gone—overtaken by his final darkness and on a different plane—one without pain, where he could finally rest.
He didn’t know where he was or even what he was, but as he experienced a floating sensation, he recognized the voice that spoke to him and filled the space around him.
Don’t get too comfortable, boy. If you want some payback, you’re gonna have to work for it.
Chapter 48
TRENT SQUINTED his eyes against the blowing snow. After only fifteen minutes of searching, he found his way back to where he had marked the trees at the edge of the Shaman’s forest.
With surprisingly little effort, his mind recalled the virtual map it had made of his earlier journey through the mystical woods.
Take a right at the third tree, then a left, then three rights again, he heard, as his own voice guided him.
He twisted and turned his way through the dense woods, certain that his twisted path would lead him to the Shaman’s camp, where he hoped Zana and Christina were waiting for him.
Turn after turn. Tree after tree, passing the bone pit, and finally arriving at the clearing where the Shaman made his camp. No sooner did he poke his head out of the dense forest than Zana and Christina were both running toward him, racing to embrace him.
Zana threw her arms around his neck—tears of joy in her eyes.
“Trent,” was all she could manage to say.
Christina hugged both of them, then took a step back. Her face was serious.
“Is he following you? Otsioza is better, but he still needs to rest.”
Trent looked around the campsite and saw the Shaman sitting on his favorite log, with a sad smile on his face.
“The Hunter’s dead. He’s not coming back this time.”
Christina’s shoulders relaxed as she and Zana walked Trent over to where the Shaman was sitting. The old man looked weary, but Trent couldn’t see any trace of the wound from the Hunter’s arrow. Next to the Shaman, Trent saw the same bottle of salve the Shaman had used to heal Zana’s arm earlier.
Trent sat down next to him, and the Shaman looked directly into his eyes.
“I know that my grandson deserved his fate, but…some people are dealt cards they can’t overcome. Not all of this was his fault.”
The Shaman looked down at the ground, avoiding Trent’s gaze. Trent wanted to tell him that everyone made his or her own decisions in life—that the Hunter’s wicked life had been his own fault.
Instead, he placed a hand on the Shaman’s shoulder and squeezed gently.
He looked back to Zana and Christina, then lifted his head to the sky. The snow had stopped coming down, but the sky was still grey high above them.
“We wanted to go looking for you,” Zana said.
“I’m glad you didn’t chase after me. It was…savage out there. And when Ka’a finally took over. I’m glad you weren’t there to see that. I don’t think he would have hurt either of you, but I wouldn’t have been able to stop him if he decided to.”
Trent looked away, then back at Zana and Christina.
“I understand Ka’a better now. He doesn’t speak, but I could sense what he was feeling.”
“Is it over?” Christina said, turning to the Shaman. “Have the animals been avenged now? Can we finally put all of this behind us?”
The Shaman slowly shrugged.
“Whether the spirit of the great bear is ready to rest, I can’t tell you. Ka’a speaks through your friend now. He would know better than me.”
Trent almost imperceptibly nodded his head. The old man was right.
“It feels like he still has unfinished business in this world, even though I couldn’t tell you what that was. He’s not as angry as before, and his spirit feels lighter than it used to.”
The Shaman stood.
“If you still want, I will try to exorcise him. You have done more than anyone could ask already.”
“I’ve been wanting to be free of Ka’a since the first time I felt his presence. But after today… I feel like I did something right for this world—something besides entertaining a crowd of gawking audience members who are looking for the illusion of belief. Today, I took care of an evil that would still be here if Ka’a hadn’t worked through me.
“I know this sounds insane, but I think I want to help him with whatever he has left to do.”
Zana hugged him, and Christina raised a doubtful eyebrow.
“You’re going to let a vengeful animal spirit possess you just so you can feel like you have a purpose in life? When I first met you, you didn’t even believe in the supernatural, for God’s sake. You thought it was all a sham.”
“I still think most of it probably is,” Trent said. “But I also know that some of it is real, and that spirits really do exist.”
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Zana stared at Trent’s shoulder. Her face drained of color.
“The spirit’s not there anymore. Ka’a’s gone.”
“She’s right,” the Shaman said. “The spirit of the mighty grizzly is no longer here.”
Trent closed his eyes. He searched his mind and his heart, but he found no traces of the dark spirit that had become so familiar to him. Without him even realizing it, Ka’a had abandoned him.
Trent shook his head slowly.
“I don’t understand.”
It was the Shaman’s turn to put a consoling hand on Trent’s shoulder.
“The spirits are thankful for what you have sacrificed and for what you have done. Ka’a is thankful, I am sure. But we don’t know what paths he must still follow—what evils he must face that still infest this world.”
“I want to help,” Trent said softly, to himself.
“I’m sorry, but Ka’a is on his own journey now.”
Trent remained silent.
“But we still have one more thing to do,” the Shaman said, “before I can move on at last. Will you help me with my task?”
“I won’t kill you,” Trent said.
“You will not need to, but I still need your help.”
Trent nodded, and Zana and Christina did the same.
Zana and Christina packed up their things, while the Shaman grabbed a can of gasoline and a cloth sack. The four of them made their way through the mystical forest once again, and within minutes, they were back at the familiar pit that was filled with bones.
The Shaman handed the cloth sack to Trent.
“You must collect Ka’a’s remains. For his spirit to remain free, so that he can continue his purpose, his bones cannot burn with the others.”
Trent took the sack and hopped down into the giant hole in the ground.
It was hard to believe that only a short while ago, he had almost died there. He could still see blood on the white bones and on the snow beneath his feat. He knew that some of it was his, and some of it belonged to the Hunter.
Trent walked to the center of the pit and stared down at the massive skeleton of the grizzly bear that was once the mighty Ka’a. With care and reverence, he kneeled and began placing Ka’a’s bones into the bag. When he got to the bear’s skull, he held it aloft and stared into the chasms where its eyes had once been. Even stripped of its muscle and flesh, it was obvious that the skull had once belonged to a giant of a creature.
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