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

I put my hand on her arm, holding her back, hoping to buy time while I pull the oxygen out of the air surrounding the group. The girls will fall unconscious, along with these monsters, but they won’t be harmed.

“Solomon!” the largest of them roars. “Destroyer! Thief! King of light! Enemy of the dark! Solomon! Ull!” His eyes go wide. His head turns down, focused on my daughter’s chest, as though only now realizing the significance of the prize he has captured. Whatever these things are, they’re not very bright. You think they would have realized who I was when I dropped out of the sky. The knife comes up in the beast’s hand.

“Norah! Aquila!” Kainda shouts our daughters’ names. “Defend yourselves!”

I’m surprised when I see all of the fear in my daughters’ eyes disappear at the sound of their mother’s commanding voice. I’m even more surprised by the swiftness of what comes next. As the knife plunges down toward Aquila’s chest, she lifts an arm and blocks the blow. While spinning to face her adversary, she flicks out her wrist and suddenly there’s a sword in her hand, glinting in the afternoon sun’s light. I quickly recognize the weapon. Strike. Her grandfather’s sword, dropped in our realm before he entered Tartarus. The blade is unlike any other, amazingly strong, yet so flexible it can wrap itself into a tight coil. Easy to conceal and uniquely deadly. The blade slips into the monster’s chest before the creature can react.

Both of my daughters have qualities of their mother. Aquila is passionate, about nearly everything. Norah, on the other hand, got her mother’s brute strength and ferocity. The seven year old leans forward and slams her head back into her captor’s face. If it had a nose, she would have broken it. But the blow is nothing compared to what comes next. Like her mother, Norah carries a hammer with a stone head the size of a brick. With a roar, she swings the weapon and clocks the shocked creature in the side of its head. The Nephilim drops to the ground. But Norah doesn’t stop there. Two more of the creatures quickly fall to her miniature might, before the girls stops to take stock of the situation.

By then, Kainda and I have joined the fray, kicking and slashing, pounding and pummeling. The enemy is disorganized and caught off guard. They lack skill. They fall quickly, under the combined might of my three girls. As the final monster falls, I feel a welling pride. I had no idea my daughters were such skilled warriors. But the Nephilim intruders have one more surprise for us.

A gurgling shriek emerges from the river. I spin to find what looks like a curtain of undulating pale flesh falling toward Kainda. I’ve never seen anything like it, but the moment I see its face, covered with dried out feathers and a clacking beak, I know what this is. More than that, I know who this is.

Gaia.

The breeder who birthed feeder upon feeder, breaking my spirit, turning me into a monster. The torture she oversaw began my horrible ordeal. I had hoped her dead, along with the rest. All of her bulbous fat, from millennia of gorging herself, has fallen away, leaving only loose flesh.

I send a burst of wind in her direction. Lifting the fifteen-foot-tall body of sail-like skin will be an easy thing, but it turns out to be unnecessary.

Twin hooked blades stab into the Nephilim’s shoulders, arresting her fall. Kainda leaps away as the loose skin sags toward the ground. Frozen in place for a moment, Gaia looks up and meets my gaze. To my surprise, she looks wounded. Almost sad. “My son,” she says, and reaches out for me.

I almost feel sorry for her.

Almost.

But her fate has already been decided by another. The chains attached to the hooked blades go taut. Gaia flails as she’s yanked backwards, into the river. There is a struggle beneath the flowing current, and then nothing. I glance at Kainda, who is knee deep in little Nephilim bodies. She shrugs.

The calm waters roil briefly and then give way to a rising form. A woman with dark skin and very little in the way of clothing—just some brown leathers—rises from the river. She shakes her head, sending spirals of water in every direction, while fluffing the only afro I’ve seen on a hunter. She gives the chains in her hands a tug, pulling the blades of her Kusarigama out of the water, catching both of them in the air. With a few quick and practiced moves, the chains are wrapped around her torso and the weapons stowed on her hips.

“My King,” Zuh says, with a nod in my direction. She has become a fierce hunter of Nephilim, spending more time in the underground than above. She has even earned Kainda’s respect and friendship, something I never thought would happen, because the pair had once been adversaries. I sometimes think Kainda is jealous of Zuh’s subterranean exploits, though she’d never admit it.

Zuh smiles and drops to one knee, reaching out for my girls.

“Aunty Zuh!” Aquila shouts, throwing herself into Zuh’s strong arms.

Norah tries to hide her happiness, fighting against the smile forming on her face, but she leans in for a hug nevertheless. Zuh stands and greets Kainda. They clasp their hands over each other’s wrists.