CHAPTER FIVE

Gods and Monsters and Those Who Train Them, Part 1

In Sam’s eyes, Thunder was like a goddess of war descending upon the mortal realm to do battle with the second creepiest monster he’d ever laid his gaze on. Lightning flashed around them as she let loose thunderbolt after thunderbolt on the terror. The horror countered her attacks with a ray of frost unleashed from its gaping sucker of a mouth.

Luckily, Thunder was as fast as a storm. Like a sonic boom, she moved this way and that, avoiding the terror’s lone sharp-fingered hand, even as its arm lashed out in every direction. The other arm, with its bloody stump, lay limply at its side.

Sam squinted. “I can barely keep track of them with my eyes. How am I supposed to help?”

He continued to heal himself where she’d left him, a full twenty yards away from the fight. It wasn’t nearly far enough. His dark hair was whipped back by another shockwave.

“I’m a healer, not a fighter,” he reminded himself. Interestingly enough, this was the first time Sam had mentioned he was a healer without calling himself crappy, too. “What does she expect me to do?”

Sam heard a groan from close behind him, urging him to glance over his shoulder. A hero lay half-visible underneath an enormous pile of rubble. His hand, the one part of him that wasn’t under something, twitched to life.

A light bulb lit up inside Sam’s brain.

“I’m a healer,” he repeated. “And Thunder needs help…”

It usually took more than one alpha-level hero or a ten-man team of beta-level heroes to defeat a single alpha-level horror. Yet Thunder, who wasn’t even in her best form, was defying those odds with extreme prejudice. Although it helped that her adversary looked worse off than she did.

Sam rose to his feet and dashed toward the hero underneath the pile of rubble.

“When did I become so eager to be a martyr?” he sighed. But he knelt at the hero’s side and then wrapped his hands over the twitching fingers.

“Healing Hand!” Sam chanted.

This time, Sam needed very little coaxing to urge his life force down into the tips of his fingers. It was like the power was just waiting to spill forth since there was a lot more of it now to give. The only side effect Sam experienced during the healing process was a throbbing headache. He could work around that.

In his mind’s eye, Sam saw the HP bar once again. He watched as it dropped to half before the hero’s grip on his hands tightened. Heat, much like what one could feel after stepping into a steam bath, spread out of the hand Sam held onto.

Then, with a mighty heave, the hero pulled himself out of the rubble. He was a tall Samoan man with a buzzcut and muscles so thick they were threatening to burst out of his all-black costume. On his chest was a symmetrically pleasing symbol of a burning hearth.

“Hephaestus’ flaming beard...you’re Dr. Hearthstone!” Sam exclaimed, sounding more like a fanboy instead of the hero who’d just healed this giant of a man.

A former heart surgeon, Dr. Hearthstone had been gifted with more than one power. He had gamma-level telekinetic control over the surrounding earth which he usually wrapped around himself like protective armor. His other power was beta-level internal heat generation, the kind that gave him an explosive boost of strength when exerting physical force.

Dr. Hearthstone placed his hands on his waist in that traditional superhero pose he was so famous for.

“That’s my name,” he said as he sent a smoldering gaze down at Sam, who was still kneeling on the ground. “And you are?”

“Sam Shepard, sir,” he said, glad he hadn’t stammered in front of this legend.

“I didn’t ask you for your civilian name, son.” Dr. Hearthstone’s smoldering gaze intensified. “What do they call you?”

The realization that Dr. Hearthstone was asking for Sam’s hero moniker hit him like a rock.

“Um, they don’t call me anything. I’m new,” he lied.

Though, technically, it wasn’t a lie. Whoever Sam was before the system changed him had retired after he’d run away from the job. Sam didn’t want to be that person anymore. He wanted to be better.

Dr. Hearthstone spared him another long glance before the flash of lightning pulled his attention to the ongoing battle between Thunder and the terror.

“You have my thanks, Sam Shepard,” he said.

Then he was off, taking one long stride after the next to provide Thunder some much-needed backup. Only, as cool as Dr. Hearthstone was, Sam was sure one beta-level hero would be enough. Thunder needed more reinforcements to win the day.

Sam let himself regenerate the life force he just spent while searching the surrounding chaos. Past the fires and broken rubble, he spied someone with their back leaning against the undercarriage of an overturned SUV.

I’ve saved more lives tonight than I’ve ever done in my entire career, Sam thought to himself. A lopsided smile appeared on his face. I think I can do one more.

Sam waited for his headache to disappear before he dashed out. He zigzagged across the cracked street to avoid getting noticed and then slid down behind the car next to the SUV for some cover.

He peeked over the car and watched as Dr. Hearthstone’s right hook smacked the terror sideways, giving Thunder enough breathing room to call on a massive “Thunderstrike!” from the sky down on her enemy.

Unfortunately, even this awesome display of power wasn’t enough. The terror fired another ray of frost that hit Thunder in the shoulder, and the force of it was so strong that she was flung back against the wall behind her.

Sam winced in Thunder’s place because it seemed like she was too busy getting back up to feel any pain. “Lady’s a freaking tank.”

“Help…” a nearby voice whispered.

Sam found a hero leaning against the car. He recognized her instantly: War Maiden. She had a pretty face with raven hair even shorter than Thunder’s chin-length blonde locks. She wore a silver breastplate that had seen better days, and the rest of her looked just as battered and bruised. Yet she held on to the war hammer lying beside her like it was the most important thing in the world.

He crawled over to War Maiden to check on the extent of her injuries. They weren’t as bad as the gaping hole in Thunder’s stomach, but definitely a broken arm and leg plus some nasty bruising on the side of the head. Sam guessed she might have a brain bleed, too, as she was mumbling and barely conscious.

Sam touched the side of War Maiden’s face, causing her bloodshot eyes to turn on him. She lifted her hammer an inch off the ground before it dropped back down.

“I’m here to help,” he promised.

It took him significantly more life force than he’d used on Dr. Hearthstone to heal War Maiden.

WARNING: Life-force has been significantly depleted by [Healing Hand (ζ)]. Recommend that the hero refrains from using power until FATIGUE [55%] has dropped to a lower range.

Sam soldiered on despite the bucket of sweat dripping down his back. He was pleasantly surprised by the notification that arrived after he’d finished healing her.

You leveled up!

“What are you staring at?” War Maiden asked.

“N-nothing…” Sam’s gaze quickly moved away from the notification and back to his patient. “How are you feeling?”

War Maiden flexed her fingers.

“Better,” she answered before turning a surprised look in Sam’s direction. “You healed me.”

“Not all the way. Just enough to get you back in the fight,” Sam explained.

He expected her to get angry for not getting the job done right. That’s usually how Sam was treated by people he tried to heal, but her reaction was far worse. War Maiden recoiled from him.

Sam had seen that look before. It was the same look of shame that he’d once had when he’d chosen to run away from hero duty. She doesn’t want to get back in the fight.

War Maiden tried to lift her hammer, but she could barely lift it a foot off the ground now despite being healed.

“No...” She rose to her feet. She didn’t even try to pick her hammer up again. “The burden’s too much. I can’t.” Then she walked away from him—and the battle.

“Don’t leave!” he called after her. “You can do this!”

Sam watched her back get smaller and smaller, and not once did she turn around.

“You’ll regret it.” His voice was a whisper now. “I know I did.”