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

Em laughs and takes Krane’s sword from me. After handing it back to the big man, she pulls me up. “We need to move.”


The serious tone of her voice cuts through my relief. “What’s been happening?” I ask.

“The jungle is a dangerous place. Outsiders have come. Their weapons are…”

“We lost a few hunters,” Krane says.

I nearly scoff at the idea, but remember the Arab man’s reaction to seeing me. And the Chinese soldiers were armed for war. But if they’re shooting at people and are clearly not prepared to fight Nephilim, then who are they looking to fight?

Each other, I realize. They’re here to kill each other.

Feeling discouraged by this revelation, I look up and find the eyes of twenty hunters on me. Are they looking for guidance? Leadership? I meet the aborigine’s eyes. He seems to understand my plight and gives me a slight nod of encouragement. They’re looking for hope.

I’m not ready for this, I think. I can’t lead these people. They’re all older, and… I nearly say they’re smarter than me, but my intellect revolts. They’re not smarter than me. Few people are. And they’re not stronger than me, either. Even without my powers, the group had trouble fighting me, not to mention the fact that I’ve killed a Nephilim warrior and survived Tartarus. Maybe I am the best person for the job, but I still don’t feel ready. I’d rather be home, lying in bed and staring at a map of Antarctica, the place where I was born but never meant to go.

But I’m here. And they’re watching me. So I do my best to look strong and fearless and say, “Take me to…”

I falter. Take me where? To your leader? Home? Your base? Where the heck do they live anyway?

Then I realize what I really want to say. “Take me to Luca.”





24



We make our way around the lake like a military platoon, quietly stalking, wary of enemies. Kainda takes the point position, scouting ahead and then giving the all clear. A small group brings up the rear, erasing our trail. I’m essentially in the middle of the group, protected like I’m the President of the United States and the hunters are my secret service. The attention makes me uncomfortable, and I don’t need protecting, but there was no stopping them.

Em is near the front, too, though I can tell she doesn’t want to be by the way she keeps looking back at me. We have a lot of catching up to do, not to mention strategizing, but I get the impression that she, and Kainda, despite being two of the younger hunters in this group, are in charge. Em gives orders with the calm of someone who has done so for a while, and her words are followed without question.

Her new authority feels strange to watch. When we last saw each other, we were both outcasts. Alone. And now, here she is surrounded by an army of hunters.

My army of hunters, they say.

But since no one is asking me what to do, they are still, quite clearly, Em’s army. And I think I like it that way. I’ve caused a lot of damage and ruined a lot of lives on my own. I don’t want to consider the cost if all these hunters tag along with me. I’m not saying I won’t need their help. I’ll need it, there’s no doubt. But I will not put them in danger until I’m sure it will matter, until the benefits outweigh the risks.

“Are you okay?”

I turn to the voice and find the aborigine walking next to me. He is a skilled hunter. I didn’t hear him coming, probably because I was lost in thought. “Yeah. Fine,” I say.

“You seem…distracted,” he says. When I don’t reply, he continues. “I don’t blame you. You’ve been through a lot.”

I almost say, “You have no idea,” but stop, first because it’s rude, and second because I don’t know who this man is, or what he’s been through. Thankful for the distraction, I offer him my hand. “I’m Solomon.”

He shakes it and with a grin, says, “I know.”

The man’s smile creases deep crow’s feet on the sides of his eyes, and I wonder how he could have ever been a hunter. He’s kind, soft-spoken and his eyes lack any trace of the ferocity that hunters, rehabilitated or not, cannot hide. I stop in my tracks. “You’re not a hunter.”

His smile is wide and full of gleaming white teeth. He reaches up and pulls the wig of red dreadlocks from his head. The hair underneath is short and black—not corrupted. “You’re smart and a skilled fighter.”

“And you’re a teacher,” I say.

“Have you met many other teachers?” the man asks eagerly. I suspect he hasn’t met any, but would like to, perhaps to share, and work through, their tribulations.

“Just one,” I say. “Aimee. She serves under the Norse.” It strikes me that Aimee would have a place among these hunters. “She was my friend.”

“A hunter and teacher…friends? Before this, before we escaped, most of these hunters might have beaten me for looking at them the wrong way.”

He’s telling the truth. Though he lives among the hunters now, and is quite skilled himself, he still fears them.

“We were friends before I was taken,” I say.