The Last Hunter - Collected Edition (69 page)

And then I am. “Thank you,” I whisper. It’s only the second time I’ve ever prayed. The first was at Tobias’s funeral. This time is short and sweet, and though I’m not entirely sure who I’m speaking to, I’m pretty sure the message is received. My energy returns and I stand again to more uproarious cheering. For my coup de grâce, I raise a hand, silencing the prisoners. I reach out with my mind, feeling the air, the stone and the metal of the locks. I focus on the molecules binding the iron together, and slowly push them apart.

“My name is Solomon Ull Vincent. I am the leader of...”
What am I the leader of? A small band of hunters? No, it’s more than that. The world may not yet know it, I’m the leader of
, “...the human resistance. And you,” I say, looking at the men around me, “are free.”

I clench my hand shut and the locks all up and down the hallway snap free and fall to the floor.

6

The soldiers emerge from the cages slowly. There’s a palpable sense of bewilderment as they try to comprehend the things they’ve seen here. Not just Pan and my unnatural abilities, but the ease with which Wright and Em killed the giant that had made their lives a living hell.
How many of them had he taken
, I wonder. But before I can ponder the question, a wave of dizziness spins my vision.

Setting the men free with one bold act, while impressive, has further drained my strength. Struggling to stay on my feet, I take Wright’s arm. Sensing my weakness, he helps prop me up. “You okay, kid?”

“We’re the same age,” I remind him with a weak voice.

“Right,” he says.

“I’ll be fine in a minute,” I add, and then change the subject. “Your people are on the coast, right? At the end of the river?”

“There’s an aircraft carrier group just off the coast. I’m sure they’ve got an FOB set up by now.”

“FOB?” I ask.

“Forward operating base,” he explains.

I make a mental note to find a book about the armed services and read it cover to cover. Would make speaking to Wright a lot easier. Then I dig into a satchel hanging from my hip and take out the modern mapping device I christened
maptrack
. I found it on a Chinese general who’d been killed by the Nephilim. It helped me find Em, Kainda, Luca and the others, but I have no need for it now. I show it to him. “Can you program the coordinates so these men can find their way to the FOB?”

He takes maptrack and looks it over. The touch screen display is in Chinese, but he seems to have little trouble navigating through the options.

“Can you read Chinese?” I ask.

“No,” he says, pushing buttons. “But the interface is fairly common, and the icons are universal.” Then he’s done. “All set. They can follow the river most of the way.”

I take the device and look at the map. “There aren’t any dots.”

“It’s a GPS device.”

I’m about to ask what GPS means, but I think he’s catching on to the fact that I’ve missed out on the last twenty years of technological advances. “Global Positioning System. It uses satellites in orbit. The signal can’t go through a mountain, so the positioning dots will appear once it’s outside.”

When I look up from the device, a sea of faces is staring at me. The freed prisoners have gathered around us, filling the hallway. Kainda and Em have taken up defensive positions on either side of me, their hands hovering just over their weapons.

“They’re waiting on you, boss,” Kat says to me.

My dizzy tiredness is replaced quickly by a horde of frantic butterflies in my stomach. They’re waiting on
me
.

“Kainda, Em,” I say, “Can you keep watch?”

Both nod and walk through the crowd, heading for either end of the hall. While the citadel is fairly quiet, this is still a Nephilim stronghold. There isn’t a lot of time. Now if I can just figure out what to say.

Maybe it’s the lack of a threat, or the laser-like focus of my captivated audience, but I’m suddenly very uncomfortable. “Umm, hi.”
Stupid
. Next, I’ll thank them for coming. Not that they’d understand me.
Ahh, that’s where I’ll start, the language barrier
. “Can those of you who speak English come closer?”

“I believe we already have, mate,” says an Australian man in green fatigues.

I look at the inner circle of men and see a kaleidoscope of nationalities surrounding me. “Where are you all from?”

“I’m a Kiwi,” says the man I thought was Australian. Kiwi is a nickname given to people from New Zealand. “One of the few remaining, I’m sad to say.”

I look to the next man.

“Turkey,” he says with a nod.

I look from one man to the next, and they rattle off their respective countries. India, Russia, Pakistan, Iran, China, North and South Korea and Germany. When they’re done, Wright and Ferrell are tense. “What’s wrong?” I ask Wright.

“Not all of them are exactly friendly to the U.S. or each other,” he whispers.

Some of the nations represented here were enemies twenty years ago. It’s disheartening to hear that things haven’t changed. They will now, I think. “Your individual countries no longer matter,” I say.

Several of the men tense. I’m offending their national pride. But I don’t back down. “You’re all here because of a global catastrophe. Billions died. Entire countries were wiped out. Many of you probably lost families. Maybe your home towns.” I have their attention now. “This event was
not
natural. It was the opening attack in a war on all of humanity.” I leave out the fact that the repositioning of the Earth’s crust was caused when Nephil’s spirit momentarily took control of my body and supercharged my abilities. I don’t think that would go over too well.

“You are no longer men from opposing forces. You are united.” I realize I’m not asking if they agree with this. The truth is they don’t have much of a choice. Then I add the real kicker, “You are
my
army.
My
soldiers. And if you want to stop
our
enemy, you will do as I say.”

I fully expect some of them, if not all of them to object.

But they’re silent.

I look at the men around me. They’re unsure. Their training and loyalty to their individual countries is no doubt at war with the things they have experienced on Antarctica.

It’s the Kiwi who responds first, perhaps because, like he said, there isn’t much left of his homeland to be loyal to. He snaps a salute and says, “Lieutenant Elias Baker, at your service.”

One by one, the other men around me offer salutes. The gesture is different from country to country, but the intent is the same; I have their allegiance.

I motion to Wright. “This is Captain Steven Wright of the United States Special Forces. He’s going to tell you how to reach the U.S. forward operating base.”

“And then what?” Elias asks.

“You wait for us to join you,” I say.

“But they will shoot us,” says the man from Iran.

I hadn’t thought of that.

But Wright has it covered. “If just one unarmed man approaches the gate, hands up, you can deliver a message from me. It will go straight to the president. They’ve seen what we’re up against. They’ll take care of you.”

“Until then, Lieutenant Baker is in charge,” I say. “The rest of you can translate his orders.” I don’t think they’ll like it, but if memory serves, no one has a beef with New Zealand. The fact that no one argues proves it.

“Captain Wright is going to take you to an armory,” I say to Elias. “Take everything.”

He nods and grins, clearly happy at the idea of being armed again.

I turn to Wright. “Have Kainda explain the quickest route to the jungle.”

Back to Elias. “Stay under the canopy. Move quickly. If you’re confronted by Nephilim—”

“Remove the ring,” Elias says. “Shoot the forehead.”

I smile and nod. These men are experts. A real army.

“Go,” I say.

Wright and Kat make their way through the crowd. Baker and the other English speaking men follow them and soon the entire mass of men moves quickly and quietly around the corner, headed for the armory that will give them a fighting chance.

Despite the number of soldiers, they move in near silence, fully aware that they are deep in enemy territory. I stand my ground, nodding at the men who make eye contact as they walk past. Some whisper their thanks in a variety of tongues, and I do my best to repeat the words back to them. I’m as thankful for them as they are for me.

Then they’re gone. As the last man rounds the corner toward the armory, I turn around and look at Pan’s corpse. I feel nothing for the eater of men. He’s now just an empty vessel, his spirit, or whatever Nephilim have, has become nothing. I’m struck at that moment by the realization that I now believe men have souls that continue living after death. After everything I have seen and learned, how can I not? The belief that men are like this dead Nephilim is so sad, so horrible, that I cannot comprehend how atheists live, believing they will simply cease to exist at the moment of their death.

My eyes linger on the giant for just a moment before turning and seeing a second corpse—the man that Pan killed. I stumble toward the body, still feeling drained. When I see the pleading look frozen on his upturned face, the last of my strength fails me and I fall to my knees. His dead eyes stare at me.

“I’m sorry,” I say to the man as tightness clutches my throat. “I should have saved you.”

A gentle hand touches my shoulder. I can tell it’s Em without turning around. “You can’t save everyone,” she says.

She’s right, I know. The Nephilim are likely killing human beings all over Antarctica as we speak. But this man was right in front of me. I
saw
him die. One moment, he was living and looking at me with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. The next, he was dead, killed violently to spite me. My logical side can get past it. The man would have died if I hadn’t been here. His decapitation might have even been merciful compared to what Pan had planned. But my emotional side, the part of me that used to be Ull, feels a burning hatred for the killing of this man, and a deep sadness for those who will miss him.

I’m about to tell Em how I feel about the sanctity of human life, when an angry voice says, “In the name of Zeus, what happened?”

I look up into the eyes of a hunter I do not know. In the second it takes me to see the man’s Olympian garb and the twin whips strapped to his hips, Em has flung a knife at the man’s heart.

7

The knife is knocked to the ground by an unseen force. It lands at the hunter’s feet. The man’s eyes go wide with understanding. “It’s
you
.”

Em draws two more knives, but it’s not necessary. The hunter backs out the way he came—and runs.

“What did you do that for?” Em says, wheeling around on me. I can’t remember her ever being so angry with me before. I see the look of a hunter in her eyes. But then she reels it in. “He’s going to get help. All those people you just freed are going to die.”

“I don’t think so,” I say, still on my knees.

She helps me up. “Solomon, even if those men get their weapons, if they get caught in Olympus, surrounded by hunters, warriors and who knows what else, they are going to die. And don’t tell me you will protect them. You can barely stand.” She sighs, shakes her head and says, “If only Tobias had a few more weeks with you.”

I note that she no longer calls Tobias her father. It seems she’s come to accept that her actual father might still be alive somewhere. But I don’t bring it up. “He’s not going to get help.”

“Are you part gatherer now?” she says, oozing sarcasm. “Did you read his mind?”

“I don’t have to read his mind, Em.” I step away from her, standing without help. “He’s a
hunter
. Think about it.”

She understands after just a moment of thought. “Fine.”

Hunters do not run from a fight. They don’t back down against insurmountable odds. And they would never, even in the face of death,
run
for
help
. Death would be preferable. They wouldn’t even call for help. That this hunter saw me, recognized me and then bolted can mean only one thing, and before I can explain it, the man returns, saying, “There he is.”

There are five of them, three men, one woman and a girl around my age, which is to say she looks eighteen, but could be forty for all I know. All are strangers to me, but Em says, “Zuh?”

The younger girl steps forward. “Emilee,” she says. “What are you doing here, you—” She sees the cages and her eyes go wide. Her mouth clamps shut for a moment and then she says. “Where are they?”

“Wait,” I say. “Don’t answer that.” They might not be attacking us, but that doesn’t mean I’m a fool. “Let me see your hair.”

It’s a vague request, but they all understand what I’m getting at. Zuh, whose dark black skin would make her nearly impossible to see in the darkest recesses of the underground, steps forward. Her blood red hair is like a pom-pom around her head. It’s the first bona fide afro I’ve seen on a hunter, but it fits her. She’s scantily clad, wearing brown leathers, but also has a menagerie of chains crisscrossing her waist and chest.
It’s her weapon
, I think, but I can’t identify it.

“Like what you see?” she says with a smirk.

My cheeks instantly flush.

She chuckles. “It’s a kusarigama.” She turns so I can see the sickle blade attached to the end of the chain. “He’s as innocent as they say,” she says to Em. Then she takes some of my hair and rubs it between her fingers.

I recover from her teasing and do my best to sound nonplussed. “Now yours.”

She gives me a wicked grin that’s full of mischief, but then tilts her head down and parts her pom-pom of hair. At the core is a dark bundle of black hair that she has curled up tight and tied down so that it cannot be seen. I nod and step past her. One by one, I inspect the others and see their carefully hidden shocks of untainted hair.

When I step back, I ask a question none of them are expecting. “How is this possible? None of you have met me. None of you have been with Kainda or Em.”

“Word is spreading,” says the man who first discovered us. “At first, we doubted. Then we heard that you had returned from Tartarus.”

“But the underworld is full of hunters seeking me out,” I say.

He smiles, but seems confused by the genuine nature of it. “Not all of them are your enemies. There are those still loyal to the masters. The oldest generations. But many of those seeking you out simply wish to follow you. And others are guiding the masters on false trails.”

“They are no longer your masters,” I point out.

He concedes the point with a nod.

“We would like to join you,” Zuh says.

It’s a tempting offer. Having five more hunters along would make us a formidable force. But I really don’t know these people and the mission we are on, and currently being distracted from, is too important to risk telling them about. I remember Xin’s warning, to trust no one. One of these hunters could be a shifter, a shape-changing child of trickster demons like Lucifer, the most famous of them all. I don’t think so, given the nature of our chance encounter, but I cannot risk the mission.

“Actually,” I say, “I could use your help with something else.”

Zuh nods, speaking for all of them, and I lead them down the hall. When we round the corner, we’re faced with a fully armed human army. Kainda, Wright and Kat stand at the front of the two hundred strong group. Elias is with them, discussing the best route out of Olympus.

Kainda tenses when she sees the hunters following me, but she draws her hammer when she sees Zuh. Great.

I hear a rattle of chains and turn to find the sickle end of Zuh’s kusarigama in her hand.

“Seriously?” I say. “Are you two for real? Look, whatever issues you two have had in the past, suck it up and get over it. You’re not those people anymore.”

Kainda opens her mouth to object, but I speak over her. “The men behind you are from countries that have been warring since before any of us were born. Their feuds go back hundreds of years, if not more. Yet they stand here, united against a common enemy. I expect the same from you.” Kainda backs down, though she’s clearly not happy about it. I turn to Zuh. “Both of you.” She puts her weapon away.

I wave Elias over and introduce him to Zuh and the four other hunters, whose names are Jozz, Felix, Pietr and Kaleb. “These five, are hunters, like Kainda, Em and I.” Elias nods in understanding. “They know the land, and the enemy as well as I do.”

To the hunters I say, “These men are capable soldiers. They know how to kill the Nephilim. But they can also reach the outside world and get a much larger army. I want you five to lead them out of Olympus and to the coast. Elias will point the way and lead the men. You five do what you can to protect them and mask their progress.”

Zuh doesn’t look pleased with the assignment, but then asks. “Can I train them?”

“You can start with me,” Elias says, flashing a winning smile.

Zuh returns the smile, but her mischief is impossible to hide.

“Gently,” I tell her. “We need them to survive the trip.”

She chuckles. “I will not lose a single man, my king.”

King? What the?
I’m about to object, but Zuh claps Elias on the shoulder and starts giving orders, which he relays to the other English speakers and they translate for the rest of the group. Soon they are all moving, swarming into a tunnel leading down.

Elias pauses at the rear and says, “We will wait for you.” He grins and adds, “my king.” Then he’s gone with the rest and our number is back to five.

I know Elias was teasing, but I’m really uncomfortable with this king thing. Honestly, I don’t really want this leadership position and think that if some kind of higher power selected me for the job, like Cronus believes, then it made a poor choice in me. I can put on a good show now. Flex my muscles. Bend the wind. But I’d still rather be in my parent’s living room eating Captain Crunch and doodling with Justin.

Before I can join Kainda, Wright and Kat, Em takes my wrist and squeezes hard enough to get my attention.

“Ouch,” I say. “What’s wrong?”

“Zuh,” she says in a tone that makes me wonder if I shouldn’t have sent the woman after all. “You should know about her past.”

I wait for more.

“When the Nephilim became aware of your return to the continent, they held a match between the top hunters, and their daughters. The winning father would break and train the last hunter, vessel of Nephil. It was the greatest honor a hunter could have. The winning daughter...”

I see where this is going. “Could marry me.”

She nods. “Zuh and Kainda were those daughters.”

“And Kainda won,” I finish.

“No,” she says. “They nearly killed each other, but their fight was a draw when neither could stand. It was the fathers who decided the fight.”

Ninnis was the man who broke and trained me, so I already know who won that fight, but the details are a revelation.

“Ninnis killed Zuh’s father,” she says, “but he didn’t stop there. He drank the man’s blood. It is the gravest of insults.”

I shake my head. Ninnis. I called the man a friend once. If not for Aimee, I could have become just like him.

“So Zuh wants revenge for her father?” I ask.

“Not at all,” Em says. “He lost the fight. Ninnis was the better hunter. She would respect that. The problem is she and Kainda never finished their fight. Kainda’s claim to you, while no longer relevant to you or me, is still disputable to Zuh and Kainda. And I can tell by the way Zuh looked at you, she wouldn’t mind a rematch.”

I look up and see Kainda keeping an eye out for trouble, though I can see she’s flexing her arms, crushing the handle of her hammer.

“Thanks for telling me,” I say to Em and then make my way to Kainda. She hears me coming and glances in my direction. Tension radiates off her like heat from a stove.

I put a hand on her shoulder and feel the muscles beneath tense. Then I lean in, kiss her cheek and whisper, “I am yours,” before moving on. She says nothing in reply, but a moment later, she snaps at the others and says, “Get moving. Hades awaits.”