“Sam.” Mira’s head dips toward the floor. “His name was Sam. Well, Samuel, but I never called him that.”
I’m more than a little surprised when Kainda lets go of my hand and puts two of her fingers under Mira’s chin. The touch is gentle and caring in a way that was never modeled for Kainda, so this is all her. She lifts Mira’s face so they’re looking eye-to-eye. “If he died defending you, and you believe you were meant to be here, then it was not a stupid thing to do. It was brave. That’s how you should remember him.”
Mira sniffs back some tears and gives a nod. “Maybe, except that he was more like Sol when we first met. Kind of a nerd. Clumsy. Never really stood a chance.” She looks at me. “But that’s not exactly true either, because look at you now. You’re like Tarzan or Ka-Zar, or something.”
We smile together.
“Seriously, do you swing from vines?” she asks with a sniff, signifying the conversation about her past has come to a close.
I chuckle and say, “I can sort of fly, remember? Don’t really need the vines. But I probably could.”
Kainda is once again lost by the pop culture references and looks resigned to wait for the shifting conversation to end. But then Mira pulls her back in. “Can I see that?” Mira points to the hammer lying beside Kainda.
“My hammer?” Kainda asks. I’m not sure she’s ever let anyone hold her hammer. Not even me. Not that I’ve asked, but I think I’ve always assumed it would be a bad idea. They seem kind of attached.
“Yeah,” Mira says. “Looks intense.”
“Intense,” Kainda says slowly, thinking on the word. “It has tasted the blood of human, Nephilim, crylophosaurs and countless other denizens of the under-world. ‘Intense’ is a good word.” She lifts the hammer as though it weighs little more than a dead branch, and holds it out to Mira.
As soon as Mira has the handle, Kainda lets go and the hammer yanks Mira’s arm down. The stone head clunks against the cave floor. Mira laughs and takes the handle with two hands, grunting as she lifts it up. “Holy damn, woman. You’re strong.”
Kainda beams with pride. Maybe its that the legendary “girl in the photo” is giving her such high praise, or that she could clearly take Mira in a fight, I don’t know, but she’s enjoying the moment.
But then Mira goes and steers the conversation into a telephone pole. “This looks like Mj?lnir, but smaller.”
Kainda and I both stare at her, unmoving.
“Mj?lnir,” she says again. “You know, Thor’s hammer. You’d think you two would know this since...”
I can see her mind working. She’s figuring it out.
“Since what?” Kainda asks, her face grim.
“You knew him?” Mira asks. “The real Thor, I mean?”
“Yes,” Kainda says, taking the hammer back. She stands, clips the weapon in place and starts walking away.
Mira looks to me for an explanation.
“Hunters are trained to use the preferred weapon of their masters,” I say.
It takes a second to sink in, but then Mira’s eyes go wide with understanding. “She was Thor’s...but...” She stands quickly, shouting, “Kainda, wait!”
I know for a fact that chasing Kainda down when she’s just stormed away to be on her own is a bad idea. I jump up and head off after Mira, but she’s running now and has a good lead.
Also, Kainda has stopped walking. She turns and faces Mira with a look that could make a Nephilim warrior squeal in fright. She’s about to say something, but Mira beats her to the punch—luckily, not an actual punch.
“You must have just missed it,” Mira says, oblivious to Kainda’s dark mood. “Back on the river, when we escaped in the boat, Thor was one of the Nephilim chasing us.”
“Then you are truly lucky to be alive,” Kainda says and starts to turn away.
Mira puts her hand on Kainda’s arm, stopping her.
“Mira,” I whisper, but before I can finish my warning, Mira finishes her story.
“Kainda,” she says. “We ran Thor over in the boat. The water washed right over him. He drowned.”
Kainda whips around toward Mira. “Drowned?”
Mira nods. “Thor is dead.”
I have seen the transformation a hunter goes through upon learning his or her master has died. It’s like an invisible bond is severed and all the tension and hatred created by the connection is released. I saw it with Tobias, Em’s foster father, when he learned that I killed Ull, his former master. But his reaction is mild in comparison to what Kainda experiences.
Her hammer slips from her hand and lands with a thud. She falls to her knees beside it, arms shaking. She looks up at her quaking hands for a moment, clenching them tightly, probably frightened by the intensity of her own emotions. Then a sob escapes her lips, and I’m by her side, on my knees, wrapping my arms around her.
The Last Hunter: Collected Edition (Antarktos Saga #1-5)
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