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

I’m almost surprised when I find Whipsnap, at the ready, in my hands. Almost. I might have been kidnapped from my comfortable, normal life in the outside world, but since then I have been, and still am, a hunter. And now I’m insulted.

Without using my elemental powers, I lunge forward, sweeping the bladed tip out at her. It’s a dangerous strike, a killer blow to most, but this is Kainda. I have faith that she’ll avoid the blow, and if I hold back... Well, I’d rather face an army of Nephilim warriors than be on the receiving end of that verbal barrage.

She slaps the spear tip away and swings her hammer toward the side of my face. I quickly spin Whipsnap up, grip it with both hands and block the blow. But the staff of my weapon is flexible. It bends with the hammer’s impact, slowing the strike, so the hammer’s head gently kisses my cheek.

I glance at the hammer, resting against my cheek, then at Kainda. She frowns. “That was half strength.”

I flex Whipsnap in the opposite direction, letting the energy stored in the bent staff fling the hammer, and Kainda, away. I follow through by kicking her hard in the back. She slams into a tree, striking her face.

I cringe. Fighting my wife goes against all my instincts. In the outside world, I’d probably be arrested and put in jail. Luckily, the laws of the outside world don’t apply to hunters. Or Antarktos.

Kainda wipes some blood from her lip, and I can’t help remembering Bruce Lee doing something similar in his movie The Chinese Connection. I only saw it once, on one of the few Saturday mornings I didn’t watch Creature Double Feature, but I don’t really forget much...or anything.

“Better,” she says and points at me. “But I’m going to knock that cocky grin from your face.”

I didn’t realize I was smiling. Or enjoying this. But I am a hunter. Combat is as much a part of me as it is Kainda. It’s just a part I’ve been ignoring for a very long time.

I spin Whipsnap with a flourish, ending in a pose of readiness. “You can try.”

She charges.

I rush to meet her.

A scream stops us in our tracks, weapons raised.

“The girls,” I say.

“Hurry,” she says.

I summon a powerful wind that sweeps us up into the air and carries us toward the sound of the scream. Trees bend in our wake, creaking and swaying. My fear has summoned a wind so powerful that trees begin cracking. I reign in my powers, so I don’t accidentally summon a tornado.

We clear the forest and reach a river that empties into the ocean with a dramatic waterfall. My two girls are just ten feet from the continent’s end and a hundred-foot drop to the ocean. Normally, this would not frighten me—Kainda has trained them well—but the girls are not alone.

They’re surrounded.

By Nephilim.

At least, I think they’re Nephilim. I’ve actually never seen anything like the bevy of creatures below. But the red hair on their heads reveals their Nephilim corruption.

Several tactics for handling the situation flit through my mind, but I quickly dismiss them. The small creatures, each about three feet tall, wield an array of weapons. A taller pair, standing closer to four feet, hold blades against my daughters’ throats.

I place Kainda and myself down on the warm stones lining the river, just ten feet from the small horde. They eye us warily, their jet black eyes—like a feeder’s—are wide with surprise. We were not expected. The girls must have stumbled upon them.

Before speaking, I scan the group. Aside from height, the creatures are nearly identical to one another. They’re slender, almost malnourished in appearance, but twitching beneath their pale, nearly translucent skin, the sinewy muscles look strong. They wear the ragged skins of underworld animals covered with plates of giant-centipede carapace for armor. Their blood-red hair grows in gnarly patches. Their faces are nearly featureless—nubby noses, holes for ears. But their mouths are wide, stretching from one side of the head to the other, full of sharp triangular teeth. “They’re like feeders, with bodies.”

“Kill them,” Kainda whispers to me. The only thing holding both of us back are the knives at our daughters’ throats.

“I need to focus,” I reply. Finding a way to attack all of these things without injuring our girls is going to be hard, even for me. I decide that a distraction is in order. “I am Solomon, King of Antarktos and you are—”

“Solomon!” the largest of the bunch, holding my eldest, shouts. He narrows his eyes and hisses.

The group tenses.

Kainda takes a step forward, but even she is not fast enough to save the girls.