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

“Yes,” I say quickly, but it almost sounds like a question.

Kat grunts. “Going to have to work on your lying, too.” She heads for the ledge, stopping at the edge. The cliff is two hundred feet thick and the ledge stretches the entire distance. But I see nothing to indicate a human presence on the other side.

“How far are we from the coordinates?” I ask.

“Almost on top of them,” Kat says, then raises the radio to her lips. “This is Katherine Ferrell looking for General Kent Holloway, does anyone copy?”

There’s just a moment of static before a deep voice with a thick Russian accent answers, “Da, we read you. Please state business.”

Kat switches to speaking Russian and the conversation flows much more quickly. After a brief exchange, Kat lowers the radio. “This is the place.”

“This is where my parents are?” Mira asks.

“Da,” Kat says. “Welcome to Mother Russia.” With that, she steps out onto the ledge and starts toward the far end. Grumpy and Zok take some coaxing, but eventually follow us onto the ledge. I really don’t know if the stone will hold their several ton weight, but if we fall, I have no doubt I can catch us all, despite how insecure my words might sound.

Halfway across, Em says, “This seems too easy. Too undefended.”

“There are bombs under the ledge,” Kat says.

“How do you know?” I ask.

“They told me,” she replies. “Said they would blow us up if we did anything funny.”

“And you’re telling us now because?” Mira says.

Kat smiles. “That aghast look on your face never gets old.”

Before Mira can retort, the same deep Russian voice, no longer distorted by the radio, shouts out. “Is far enough. State your business.”

“I already did,” grumbles Kat, and I can tell she’s about to volley a string of angry Russian in their direction.

“Let me handle this,” I say, stepping forward.

“You sure you—”

I shoot her a look that shows how serious I am, and then reach a hand out to Mira. “Light, please.”

Mira puts the crystal in my hand. I give Kainda a wink, which makes her smile, and step forward.

With every step I take, the light grows brighter. The end of the ledge is lined with thick brush hiding the Russian from view.

“That’s close enough!” the Russian says again, sounding angry now, almost like he’s in pain.

“They’re wearing night vision goggles,” Kat hisses from behind. “The light is hurting their eyes.”

I stand my ground. “Are you in charge of this outpost?”

“Da,” says the Russian.

“Can you see me?” I ask.

“Da,” he says again.

“Do you know who I am?”

Silence.

They’re either obstinate, unsure or unconvinced. “You know the name, Katherine Ferrell?

“Da,” the man says again, “But we also know of the shifters.”

They’ve been educated. This is good. “Then you know that shifters can’t do this.” A wind picks me up off the ground and I float closer to the end of the ledge. I set myself down again, encouraged by the fact that I haven’t been shot at. I’m just ten feet from the brush when I say, “Show yourself.”

To my surprise, the brush stands up. And it’s not just one man, it’s twenty, each sporting a high caliber weapon. The largest of them, a man who looks like a bush, whose face is painted black, steps forward and removes a pair of night vision goggles. His eyes are bright blue, the kind of eyes I picture women swooning for, but they also look deadly.

He raises an assault rifle at my face. “Your name?”

I speak calmly and confidently. “I am Solomon Ull Vincent, the last hunter and your leader. You will let us pass now.”

His bright white teeth flash with a grin. He steps to the side and the other camouflaged men follow his lead. They watch us pass with intense stares, but give the dinosaurs a wider birth. Once we’re past, the men resume their positions, becoming the forest once again.

Kat slides up next to me. “Good job.” I start to say, “Thanks,” but she speaks over me. “Lucky they didn’t shoot you, though. Spetsnaz aren’t known for their patience.”

Spetsnaz? While I don’t know much about the details of military weaponry, I do know about the major military units. Spetsnaz are the Russian special forces whose training regimen isn’t that dissimilar from the breaking of a hunter. It would make Rambo cry like a little girl. In fact, hunters might be the only fighting force on the planet whose training is more grueling.

“Well, I say, if I can impress Spetsnaz, maybe there’s hope for me ye—”

I stop in my tracks. We’re standing at the top of a hill leading down to a massive clearing where a mind-numbing sight awaits us.

Mira says, “Holy—”

“Now this is more like it,” Kat adds.

Kainda says nothing, but she’s smiling, and takes my hand in hers, our still fresh bonding wounds pressed against each other.