The Last Hunter - Collected Edition (37 page)

I weep.

25

I don’t know if I can move. I haven’t tried. The will to act has abandoned me. I’ve lain in the snow at the bottom of the arena for nearly an hour, watching the sun cut across the sky, feeling its rays burning the exposed skin of my tear-streaked face. I’ve replayed the events surrounding Tobias’s and Em’s deaths, and Luca’s capture a hundred times, looking for a way things could have been different.

The problem is, I find a solution every time. Had I been stronger. Had Ull still been a part of me. If I’d trained harder. If I’d never come here. If, if, if. There are probably a million “what ifs” that could have avoided this situation.

But none of that matters, because it happened. Tobias is dead, killed by his own weapon after I—the memory of that last blast of wind that sent him and Em flying replays in my mind’s eye, over and over. It’s the single “what if” scenario that pains me the most. I shouldn’t have struck them so hard. I shouldn’t have been so focused on winning that I put their lives in jeopardy.

But I did.

And they’re dead.

The sound of snow shifting in the distance tears me away from my self-deprecation.

The wind
?

Footsteps slowly approach. The wind doesn’t walk.

I listen to the footfalls coming closer, but don’t move. Maybe it’s a polar bear come to put me out of my misery.

Polar bears live in the Arctic, stupid
, I tell myself.
This is the
Ant
arctic
!

“Solomon?” the voice is weak. Frail. But I recognize it.

I turn toward the shuffling sound, eyes wide. “Emilie?”

She stands five feet away, clutching an arm and covered in blood.

But alive.

“You’re alive,” she says, sounding relieved.

“
You’re
alive,” I respond. “I thought for sure—”

“Me too,” she says. “What happened?”

The answer to her question stuns me, so much so that I can’t bring myself to say it right away. I force myself into a sitting position. My head pounds for several moments, but then clears.

“Kainda,” she says. “She beat me. Kicked me.” She’s struggling with the memory. “She threw me?”

“She—” Saying the words is hard, not because they’re hurtful, but because they’re hopeful. And I had given up hope. “She
spared
you.”

As I say it, I know it’s true. Kainda doesn’t let someone live without intending it.

Em looks confused. “She doesn’t do that.”

She’s right. Kainda is a brutal warrior known to hold a grudge and react with swift violence. She is not the forgiving type. But still, here Em stands, injured, but alive.

“You did it,” she says.

I tense, believing that she is accusing me for being the cause of Tobias’s death. A quick glance in his body’s direction confirms his death. The snow around his body is as red as his hair. But Em’s words aren’t accusatory.

“You got through to her,” she says. “Your mercy. It’s the only explanation.”

“You were friends, you said. Couldn’t that be—”

“We trained together. Hunted together. Killed together. She’s older than me. Old enough to be my—”

Em falls silent for a moment, but shakes her head.

“Perhaps it was both of us, then?” I propose.

Em reaches down for me and helps pull me to my feet. Her strength surprises me. Not just her physical strength, but the resolve she is showing in the face of her father’s death. Perhaps it is the hunter in her that won’t allow her to cry by his side, or the need to be strong for Luca. Whatever it is, it is an ability I don’t have. And she sees the evidence all over my face.

She scoops some snow into her hands, cups them together and melts it between her palms. She uses the water to wipe away the salty streaks. Her touch stings my burned flesh, but brings focus to my mind. A realization strikes.

“It’s not just Kainda,” I say.

She pauses. “What do you mean?”

“Ninnis, he…he showed mercy.”

Her hands drop away from my face and some of her buried emotions rise up. Without turning to face her father’s body, she thrusts a finger toward it, acutely aware of where he lies, and shouts, “You call that mercy? My father is dead!”

“He couldn’t let him live,” I say. “Kainda would know.”

“
Know what
?” Her voice brews with anger and I realize that I better explain quickly or the bond of brother and sister formed between us might be broken. And I’m going to need that bond in the coming days. We both will.

“That he’s different. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

“Where is it, Solomon?” She’s still shouting. Tears bead at the corners of her eyes. “Where?”

“He gave me seven days to return to Tartarus. I’m to give myself up to Nephil in exchange for Luca’s life.”

She gasps. “You can’t.”

“I must.”

“Nephil will kill
everyone
, including Luca.”

“I can’t leave him. The point is, Ninnis gave me seven days.”

She stares at me, confused.

“The journey from here to Tartarus, in my condition, and knowing the way, will take four days at most. He’s given me three extra days.”

“For what?”

I look at Tobias’s body and she understands.

“To mourn,” I say. “To bury the dead. To say goodbye.”

It is an act of mercy so subtle that it could easily be missed or explained away, and while I do not expect him to repeat it, or go back on his promise to kill Luca if I do not show, it is a shred of hope I will cling to.

I walk on stiff legs to where Whipsnap was flung and pick up my weapon. “We’re going to bury your father. We’re going to bury him today. Right now. Tonight we’ll rest. Tomorrow we’ll begin the journey to Tartarus.”

I don’t question whether or not Em is coming. As much as I’d like her to remain behind, and safe, nothing short of breaking her legs could keep her here.

“Why not rest longer?” she asks. “Regain your strength.”

“That’s exactly what I intend to do.”

“How?” she asks.

“We’re going to make a stop along the way,” I tell her. “To see a friend in Asgard. And in the meantime, I need you to tell me about the ones who helped Tobias escape with Luca. We are going to need all the help we can get.”

She nods, shakes with a chill, and heads for her father’s body.

I follow close behind, feeling bad for my lie of omission. While it’s true that I’m going to see a friend, it is not for strength. It is for a clear conscience. I need to see Aimee again, to apologize and…to say goodbye.

26

It takes us three hours to bury Tobias. Most of that time is spent carrying his body back to Clark Station One. Digging a grave proved impossible—the ice is thick and dense—so I used my abilities to carve out a six foot deep hole. We wrapped him in a blanket along with his bow and arrows. I used the wind to carry him down into the grave, where he now lies.

We stand there, side by side, Emilie and I, staring down at the body. I’ve been to four funerals in my life, for each of my grandparents. I remember the words spoken at each one—comforting words, often about being reunited in the afterlife. None of it seems appropriate now, so I stay silent. Em has never been to a topside funeral before, so the ritual will probably just confuse her. There is one part I always appreciated, though. The prayer. Speaking to God. Asking Him to accept the spirit of the deceased into Heaven. A better place. Certainly better than here. Tobias deserves as much.

I bow my head, close my eyes and whisper a prayer to God. “I don’t know much about you, but I know a lot about Tobias. He was a good man. He gave his life in defense of innocence. And he was an enemy of the Nephilim, who, if demons are real, and you are real, are your enemies, too. Give him a new home, please. A better home.”

Em’s fingers find mine and we grip each other’s hands.

“Protect Luca, wherever he is. Keep him safe and never let him doubt that we are coming for him. Protect Em, and me, as we attempt to get him back.”

With my thoughts on the task before us, I say, “If possible, turn Kainda to our side, and…” My next words feel wrong for a moment, but then I remember that there is plenty of smiting in the Bible. God will understand. “Destroy our enemies. Kill them all. Please. Amen.”

I open my eyes and find Em looking at me, her face wet with tears already wiped away.

“What were you doing?” She asks.

“Praying,” I say. “It’s something people do at funerals. When we bury the dead.”

“But who were you talking to?”

“God,” I say.

Her eyes scrunch tight. “You can talk to God?”

I shrug. I’m really not sure. “I thought it was worth a try.”

“The Nephilim don’t like God,” she says. “We weren’t allowed to talk about it.”

“Well,” I say, “You are now.” I reach my hands out over the ice grave. “Goodbye Tobias.”

“Goodbye, father,” Emilie adds.

I close my hands together and the grave fills with ice.

Em lets out a long sigh. “I’ll get my knives.”

I dip my head in agreement. Neither of us ever intended on resting. Our bodies are trained to recuperate while on the move. We’ll stop along the way, but the journey itself will rejuvenate us. We take nothing but the essentials and our weapons. We will hunt for food. I will try to expand my powers further in the way that Tobias wanted me to learn. And we will learn to work together.

Twenty minutes later, we take a last look back at Clark Station One, the place of my birth and Em’s home for the past few years. On the outside it’s nothing more than a small rise in the ice. But inside, there are countless good memories for both of us.

“Will we ever see it again?” She asks.

I suspect that I never will, but I manage to say, “We’ll get Luca back. You can return together.” The words are hollow. At least four hunters know about this place. We can never return. Not for long, at least. Unless, that is, those four hunters are killed.

As we enter the cave system in the mountain above Clark Station One, I look at the array of knives covering Em’s belt and the crisscrossing harness strapped over her chest. She certainly brought enough knives to finish the job. And if all we were facing were the four hunters, maybe we’d have a chance. But when we reach the gates of Tartarus, there will be an army waiting for us. We won’t just have hunters to deal with. Nephilim of every shape and size will gather in expectation of Ull’s bonding with Nephil. Not to mention Behemoth.

We’re both dressed for the underworld, wearing a minimum of clothing so that we might squeeze through the tight cracks. Em’s body is more muscular than I expected. And she moves through the tunnels like fluid. She sets an impressive pace, like her father would have, and drives us deep, toward Asgard.

After a full day’s travel, we pause, just an hour’s hike from our goal. We decide to rest for a bit, just in case we meet resistance in Asgard.

“We will be noticed right away,” she says, leaning back against the stone wall of the small alcove in which we have hidden.

She’s right, of course. Even if our faces weren’t recognizable, our streaks of normal colored hair will brand us as innocents right away.

“They still believe I am Ull,” I say. “Bonded with the body of Nephil. They won’t dare attack me.”

“And me?”

“I’ll—I’ll say you’re my wife.”

Em laughs at this. Her smile is refreshing. “Your wife?”

“I was offered Kainda already. I turned her down.”

“And she let you live?”

“You, too,” I remind her.

“Fine.”

I can tell she’s not thrilled about the idea, but it will work. At least long enough for us to get in and out, assuming we don’t run into the Nephilim hierarchy. I suspect they are already en route to the gates of Tartarus.

“But we still need to do something about our hair,” she says. She draws a knife from her belt and moves closer to me.

“What are you doing?”

“Just sit still.” She looks over my hair. “Huh.”

“Huh, what?”

“You have more blond hair than you did the day we met.”

“You mean the day you almost killed me.”

She grins. “Hey, I saved you, remember?” And before I can stop her, she puts the knife up to her opposite palm and draws the blade across. Blood flows.

I take her arms. “What are you doing?”

She rubs her hands together, smearing the blood. “Trust me,” she says.

When I let go, she takes her bloody hands and runs them through my hair. The metallic smell of her blood, so close to me, makes me uncomfortable, but I understand what she’s doing. She repeats the process several times until my hair is once again stained fully red, the way Ull’s should be.

After finishing, she lets me wrap her hand. I’m no doctor, but I’ve read a few first aid manuals before. Apparently I do a good job, because when I finish tying the last knot, she flexes her fingers and says, “Perfect.”

“You have a two inch slice in your hand,” I say. “I don’t see how that can be perfect.”

“I can still throw and you look like ‘Ull, the vessel of Nephil.’” She says the last part with a scary voice that makes me smile.

“What about you?” I ask.

She flips the knife around and places its handle in my hand. I take the knife and place it against my palm. I know she could have done her own hair, too, but this feels right. Like we’re blood brothers, or blood siblings at least. But she yanks my hand away and says, “No, stupid, you need to cut my hair off. It’s a sign of subjugation to a new husband.”

“Oh,” I say.

“You didn’t know that when you suggested I pose as your wife?”

I shake my head, no. “But now that I do, I like the idea even better.”

She punches me hard in the shoulder, much harder than Justin ever could have, but I shrug it off with a laugh. She turns around and says, “Make it quick.”

Fifteen minutes later, Emilie is bald. She rubs her hand over her head. She turns around, facing me. “How do I look?”

But I don’t really notice how she looks. The missing hair has revealed an image just above her hairline.

She notes my attention. “What?” She quickly becomes insistent. “What is it!”

“A tattoo,” I think.

Her face twitches with confusion. “Of what?”

“It’s a shape. A pattern really.”

“Describe it,” she says.

“I doubt it’s anything—”

“Describe it.” She’s getting angry.

“It’s two circles, one within the other.”

“Which ring is thicker?” she asks.

“The outside ring.”

She stares at me, stunned. I have no idea why, but this news has shaken her. “What does it mean?”

She blinks, meeting my eyes. “It means…it means that Tobias was not my father.”

“What?” I say. The notion strikes me as ridiculous. “Why?”

She speaks through gritted teeth. “The tattoo is given to people who are taken from the outside world and brought here.”

“But I was taken—”

“From Antarctica,” she says. “These are people taken from far away. From the other continents. Often from their homes. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, they’re marked with a tattoo. The one you described. It means…” She pauses to take a deep breath. “It means I wasn’t born here.”

The ramifications of this news are like a slap in the face. I take her hand. “Em, it means you have a family. A mother and father. Maybe even brothers and sisters.”

She pulls her hand away. “I already had those things.”

She’s right, of course. I’m now included in that family, but she hasn’t thought this through. “A family in the outside world means you have somewhere to go. Somewhere to take Luca. When you get him back, take him to McMurdo. Someone will help you. People are looking for you somewhere. People are—”

She takes her knife from me, slips it back in her belt and stands. “We need to keep moving.” She strikes out into the adjoining tunnel that will take us to Asgard, where we will be Ull and wife. If we are recognized there is the potential for trouble, and I must hide the fact that I’m there to see Aimee from anyone that we might come across. So I push Em’s harsh reaction from my mind and focus on the task at hand.

Be Ull
, I tell myself.

Be ruthless.

Arrogant.

Strong.

Everything I’m not.

We’re dead
, I think, and I follow Em toward Asgard, like a lemming over a cliff.