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

I find myself more nervous standing in front of Aimee’s door than when I crossed the threshold into Asgard. Seeing her again is going to hurt. Not like it did when I last saw her, when the very sight of her face ripped my surprised Solomon personality back to the surface and buried Ull. This will be different. She’s been here for some time now and I’m afraid I’ll see horror in her eyes. My first memory after being born is Aimee’s smiling face. And I’m terrified the love she normally exudes will have been tainted.

Because of me. I took her. I brought her here. And I’m coming to tell her there will be no escape.

Em looks both ways. She’s nervous for a different reason. We’re standing in a hallway filled with human sized doors, behind which any number of hunters could lurk. One of the rooms behind us belonged to her and if anyone was going to recognize her, it would be here.

But we haven’t seen another soul since Doug.

“What are you waiting for?” She whispers.

“I’m nervous,” I reply, and for a moment I feel happy that I have someone I can be honest with about how I’m feeling. It’s a rare thing in the underworld. In fact, it’s probably unheard of. Of course, the only other person I can be open with lives on the other side of this door.

I knock on the wooden door.

Em shoots me a confused glance. “What are you doing?”

“I’m knocking,” I say, but then remember that no one down here knocks. “It’s like asking permission to enter.”

She shakes her head, twists the doorknob and enters. I follow her in, hoping the rude entry will not make a bad impression. But there is no one inside to impress. The walls are covered in graffiti—symbols and images drawn by hunters and teachers past. But Aimee has been living here. I can tell by the collection of topside trinkets she’s managed to collect somehow and the red knit blanket on her bed. How did she get yarn? I wonder. I run my hand over the red blanket and recognize the texture. It’s feeder hair.

There are many other items in the room that I’d like to look through, but time is short. We need to begin the journey to Tartarus soon. But I need to see Aimee! I can’t leave her here not knowing what I’m about to do, not knowing that the next time she sees me I might not be myself. I might be Nephil.

My disappointment shows on my face like a lighthouse beacon in the night.

Em takes my hand. “Sorry.”

I see a roll of parchment and sticks of charcoal. “I’ll leave a note.”

“Wait,” Em says, her face smiling with revelation. “She’s a teacher, right?”

I nod.

“Teachers spend most of their time in the library. Studying and teaching. It’s likely we’ll find her there.”

I head for the door.

She stops me. “The library is on the other side of Asgard. It’s likely we’ll run into someone along the way. We didn’t have far to travel here, but we’ll have to cut through the core of the city to reach her.”

“It’s a risk we’ll have to—” An idea strikes as I glance into the hall and see the door to my quarters. I pull Em behind me, rushing for the door. “I have an idea.”

There’s no hesitation as I enter my room. Memories try to come back and haunt me, but I fight them away. My focus is the clothing laid out on my bed—primarily the cloak made of cresty skin and its cresty-head hood. It’s a miniature version of the garb the Nephilim Ull wore and will be instantly recognizable to anyone who sees it. My identity will be revealed, but since no one but Kainda and Ninnis knows I’ve changed, no one should dare to challenge me, outlander wife or not.

Em sees the cloak and offers three slow nods. “Good idea.”

I throw the cloak on, button it over my chest and pull the hood up over my head. The hood still has the cresty’s upper jaw and skull, so it’s heavy on my head and the teeth bite into my skin. But it has the desired effect. When I turn to Em, she looks uncomfortable. “How do I look?”

“Awful,” she says.

“What about you?” I ask. “Do you think your clothes are still here?”

“It’s been too long,” she says. “They would have been destroyed.”

“Then let’s go,” I say. I lead the way out of the room and toward the human quarters’ exit. Halfway there, I freeze.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“This is where it happened.” I say.

Em looks at me, trying to figure out what I’m talking about.

“This is where I killed him. Ull. His head lay here, where I’m standing, with his own arrow buried in his forehead.”

Em looks at the stone floor. “It’s a good memory.”

It’s hard to think of an act so violent as a good memory, but I find myself feeling better as I remember how I fought the giant, using my skills as a hunter and my connection with the continent to defeat a monster thousands of years old. It was one of my finer moments, and it allowed Tobias to die a free man.