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

I’m vaguely aware of Mira asking about Luca and Em giving an explanation as I focus on my thoughts and reply. Luca! Are you in the new base?

Under the temple, he thinks. It’s where the leaders are. General Holloway is here. So are Merrill and Aimee.

Why are you there? I ask. I would prefer that Luca be far away from the action. Someplace safe.

I’m a general, he thinks. Well, not really, but I’m important. I’m coordinating everyone.

With your thoughts, I deduce. Luca is just six, but he has my extraordinary mind and a telepathic ability given to him by Xin. A regular Professor X.

I’m not controlling them, though, just giving orders.

Well, that’s good, I think to myself. But in the heat of battle, Luca might not fare so well. He might have my mind, but he also has my six year old temperament, which was about as tough as runny mashed potatoes. Of course, he was also raised in the underworld for a time and then trained by Tobias, who was loving, but demanding. He’s probably tougher than I was at his age. He might even be tougher than I was at thirteen.

Well, here’s my first orders for you to issue, I think to Luca.

What is it? The thought is so powerful that I can actually feel his excitement.

Open the gates and try not to shoot us.

Open the gates! The thought explodes from the center of the base and reaches the mind of every single soldier, including Em, Kainda, Kat and Mira.

“The hell was that?” Kat says, rubbing her head.

“Luca,” Em says, smiling.

“He’s practically running the place,” I tell her and then start down the slope toward the side of the base where a gate is swinging open.

Our pace quickens and we reach the open gate at the same time as a welcoming committee that has hurried out from beneath the pyramid. Mira reacts first, seeing her parents. She breaks ranks, runs the distance between them and leaps into their outstretched arms.

Em runs next, scooping up Luca, who is dressed in green camouflage. If not for the wild, long blond hair that matches my own, he’d look like any other kid from the outside world. Em wraps her arms around her little brother and spins him in the air.

As I pass through the gates, I glance up at the watchtowers to either side. Both contain a mix of hunters and black clad snipers. The ones I don’t know just watch. Then I see Adoni, the Australian Aboriginal teacher, now wielding an assault rifle. He gives me a smile and a nod.

Next to Adoni stands Zuh, her pom-pom of curly hair now tied back against her head. She once tried to claim me as her own, vowing to beat Kainda in combat for the right of being my wife. I told her that wasn’t going to happen, and she seemed to respect that choice, but just in case it might come up again, I hold my hand up to her, revealing the wound on my hand. She looks momentarily surprised, but then smiles ruefully and nods in greeting.

A man next to Zuh, a big smile on his face, leans over the rail. “Chica!”

Mira waves up to him. “Cruz!”

“Am I glad to see you alive and kicking,” he says.

I recognize him as one of the men from the team that raced toward the South Pole and rescued Aimee along with Wright, Kat and Merrill. He sees Kat next.

“Dios mío!” he says. “Kat!”

She nods up to him, stoic, perhaps knowing what his next question will be. But Cruz doesn’t ask it. His eyes wander around our small band and he frowns. Wright’s absence speaks for itself.

“Relieved to see you in one piece,” he says.

“Likewise,” Kat says, and offers him a casual salute, which he returns.

General Holloway stops before me, looking me up and down before staring into my eyes as though evaluating my worth. He’s got at least a week’s worth of growth on his face and bags under his eyes. The man has been pushing himself.

“You look...rested,” he says. “Been on vacation?”

“If you don’t mind me saying, sir, you’ve looked better.”

This cracks a smile in his grim demeanor. He nods toward Mira.

“Got her back, I see.”

I nod.

“The Clarks are good people. They deserved it. But now it’s time to get the house in order. We don’t have much time.”

“How much time?” I ask.

He looks at his watch. “Eight hours. Give or take. We’ve been tracking them by satellite.”

“Then you know what we’re up against?”

He sighs and looks defeated for just a fraction of a second. “It’s going to get rough, but we couldn’t have asked for a better position. We’ve got cliffs on both sides. If they want us, they’re going to have to come straight down the middle. It’s a natural bottleneck, a half mile across. Call it the shooting gallery. It’s ten to one right now, but we have more men, weapons and vehicles arriving every hour.”

“Which nations are involved?” I ask.