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

I focus my eyes in the distance, searching the canopy of lush trees that somehow manage to grow green in this underground tropical Shangri-La, far away from the sun—a subterranean rainforest, sans the rain. Despite my genius intelligence and photographic memory, I have yet to figure out how this is possible and have chalked it up to being one more magical mystery that is the underworld. Trying to understand how grass, trees and flowers can grow green without photosynthesis from a scientific perspective is maddening. I gave up the task long ago.

Movement catches my eye. That’s when I see her. Alice. Her head, shaped similarly to the large palm fronds, stands fifty feet away, her yellow eyes staring at me. Despite my being here for some time, she still sees me as an intruder. Perhaps it’s because I escaped her wrath before, or maybe it’s the scent of my hair. Originally a stark white blond, my shoulder length hair turned dark red, like the Nephilim’s, as I was corrupted by them. A blond streak had emerged—some of my innocence recaptured—but for the most part, my hair is still blood red. And the scent of it, of the Nephilim in me, offends the cresties.

And there is Nephilim in me. The spirit of Antarctica. The physical body of Nephil. And I became one of their best hunters, serving under the Norse house. They transformed me into Ull, and while I was him, I reveled in their violent, mankind-hating culture. And a part of Ull still lives in me, calling for blood and for dominance. But far more frightening than that dark side of myself, is Nephil. His voice, buried deep, surfaces in my weakness and in my dreams. He is hunting for me, too.

Everyone is. “Including you,” I say to Alice, letting her know I’ve seen her.

With a snort, Alice ducks back. I hear her feet pounding away. She prefers to ambush prey. And I’m pretty sure she realizes that’s the only way she’d be able to kill me.

“Someday, Alice,” I say, “you and I are going to have it out.”

A distant roar responds. I don’t know if she heard me or not, but I find humor in the moment, and allow myself an uncommon smile. Then I jump from my cliffside hideaway and drop thirty feet to the ground.





2



A sudden wind kicks up just before I land, slowing my fall. Then I’m on the ground and running. Staying still in this cavern, other than on my perch, invites trouble. My scent is strong and easily tracked by the cresties, who have come to know it well. But they’ve just eaten and are no doubt lounging with full bellies.

Except for Alice. She never seems to rest.

But even she can’t follow where I’m going.

Low hanging tree branches slap me as I pass. Brush clings to the leather clothing I wear. The best phrase I can think of to describe it is a loin cloth, but I find the term embarrassing, even in my own subconscious. If the kids at the high school I attended—several years ahead of time—saw me now, their teasing would never end. Not that it ever did, but it would be magnified to a scale I can’t even comprehend.

Would it? I wonder?

My body is strong now. Athletic. I can kill (and have killed) dinosaurs. What would a few stupid jocks be to me?

Nothing! The voice of Ull shouts from inside me. They would bow before me.

Images of football players strung up and filleted fill my mind’s eye. But these thoughts are not from Ull. He would simply run them through. I fought with the dark thoughts conjured by my imagination long before coming to Antarctica, but since taking in the body of Nephil, they’ve reached a new level of depravity.

The graphic images cause me to stumble for a moment. I pause, sucking in a deep breath. I’m growing accustomed to the images, and I’m sometimes able to push them away with thoughts of Mira, Aimee or my parents. When all else fails, I look at the photo.

I pull the Polaroid photo out of the watertight pouch I made for it and look at the two smiling faces. The first blond haired kid is me, sporting an uncommonly genuine smile. The second blond, with pouffy hair and dark skin is Mira. She’s the first girl that took an interest in me, and we came close to kissing once, though it was accidental. Still, the sight of her squeezes my chest even after all this time.

The darkness fades and my thoughts clear. I’m me, I remind myself. Solomon. Not Ull. Not Nephil. I am in control.

I secure the photo back in its pouch and set out again, but I don’t have to run for long. The lake is just ahead. I normally come here to fish these waters, but not today. Since arriving in this underground sanctuary, I have searched for a way out. The walls here are as solid as they are vast, and I have been unable to locate a single tunnel leading out. The only obvious exit is the one I came in through—the waterfall pouring into the lake from two hundred feet above. But even with the wind at my beck and call, I haven’t been able to leap high enough nor scale the cavern’s polished walls. I believed myself stuck in this place forever, until this morning.

The waterfall pours a continuous stream of water into the lake—thousands upon thousands of gallons every hour. But the water level never rises. And the air in the cave is far from humid. There is an exit beneath the water. I’m sure of it.

I just need to find it.