CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Going Delta, Part 1

Sam was in a dilemma. To move away from his spot meant the death of Officer Schmidt, but to remain might mean his own. There was very little time to decide, too.

At the moment, the Trickster was focused on his own problem; breaking the godly enchantment that protected the Bow of Heracles from destruction. He would turn his attention back on Sam soon enough, though.

Sam wasn’t sure he could withstand an attack from the eight shimmering golden fists the Trickster had conjured into being when even Crow-Man was blown away by them. Yes, that’s right. These things weren’t illusions anymore.

The master explained it in the brief time they had to discuss Sam’s options, Listen, kid, illusions operate differently than most powers in the way they grow in strength based on how they’re perceived by both the caster and the target.

As an example, the master hurriedly shared a story with Sam about an illusionist who could make people believe that he could escape any trap.

Houdini was an alpha-level illusionist that performed minor illusions… the ‘Trapped in the Amphora’ substitution trick he did with a djinn, the Vanishing Dragon, and even the Atlantean Water Torture Cell — all small-time illusions that convinced people into believing he could manage even bigger tricks, the master explained quickly.

“He did all that to help strengthen the realism of his greater illusions?” Sam asked.

Yeah, one trick in particular. The master paused briefly for dramatic effect before adding in an awed tone, Becoming the first mortal since Hercules to escape the Underworld with the soul of their dead loved one intact.

“Something even Orpheus couldn’t pull off,” Sam realized. “But how do people believing in his illusions make escaping the Underworld possible?”

The power of belief is strong, kid… and this phenomenon increases in certainty the higher the power-level of the illusionist too, the master explained. Imagine an entire nation believing in Houdini’s success. What kind of illusions could he conjure then?

“Anything probably… He’d be like a god, if only briefly,” Sam realized.

It was about here when the Trickster raised his finger in Sam’s direction, although his face remained fixed on the bronze statue. And as if in answer to his will, four of the golden fists, with each one about triple the size of a regular hand, streaked forward like rockets going in for the kill.

Exactly, kid… So now you know why you’re about to get smacked hard if you don’t move away right this second, the master finished.

“It’s because I believe I’m going to get smacked,” Sam deduced, although he hadn’t budged from his post despite the threat of bodily harm streaking toward him now. “But what if I—”

You can’t just suddenly believe they aren’t real either, kid, the master added in a hurried tone.

“Because I know these things hurt Crow-Man already, and that’s made them real for me,” Sam guessed.

Yeah, that, and because of the caster, too, the master reiterated. In this case, his own self-belief, more like self-delusion really, counts more than—Styx! Kid, dodge!

But Sam couldn’t dodge the incoming attack because to save himself from some unnecessary pain now—which is exactly what the alarm bells in his brain were suggesting he do—would mean lifting his hands off the knife wound in Officer Schmidt’s stomach. Doing so at this precarious juncture would allow the poison in him to spread and most likely kill the man who was already in a critical state.

At that moment, Sam decided he would bank on his new suit, his sturdy body, and Regeneration to help him survive the incoming projectiles. It was a Hail Mary, he knew, but there was no other option. He couldn’t let Officer Schmidt die on his watch.

“Apollo, watch over me…” he whispered just as his eyes caught sight of the four golden fists closing in on him. “… While I perform the task you blessed me to do…”

The sudden appearance of the Shadow Crow as it dived into the space between Sam and the incoming projectiles might have been Apollo looking out for him. Sam wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was just perfect timing on Crow-Man’s part.

The Shadow Crow streaked forward and intercepted the path of two golden fists, deftly pushing one and then the other off its course. They missed either side of Sam’s shoulders by mere inches, streaking past him and then disappearing in a shower of sparks behind him.

As for the Shadow Crow, damage from the collisions caused it to lose its substance so that the object inside it, a metallic disc with the crow logo etched on its surface, fell clattering on the blackened floor. It didn’t get back up again.

Immediately afterward, Crow-Man appeared to the left of Sam’s line of sight. The hero leaped forward and kicked a third golden fist in its side to shove it off course right before it could whack Sam in the face.

He bravely blocked the last projectile with his own body. And although the force of its impact caused Crow-Man to double over in pain, the veteran hero resisted falling to the floor in what Sam guessed was sheer force of will.

Sam had seen all this happen like he was watching a dream unfold because much of his focus remained on healing Officer Schmidt.

“Argh!” Sam screamed as he struggled against the pain of giving even more of his life force away to save the man. “Come on, Healing Hand!”

And that’s when it happened. As if in response to his desperation and commitment to the healing arts, a switch inside Sam flipped on and the power inside him swelled. Warmth, the kind one felt when sitting beside the hearth during a cold winter night, spread out to his entire body, from his chest and his brain to all the way down into the tips of his fingers and toes.

Then a new notification popped up.

CONGRATULATIONS! You have unlocked the potential hidden inside you. [Healing Hand (ζ)] has leveled up!

Sweet Aphrodite, you actually did it. The master’s voice mirrored the astonishment flitting across the surface of Sam’s face. You’ve broken past your current limit!

A second blue window appeared over the first.

POWER: Healing Hand LEVEL: Delta (Δ) DESCRIPTION: because of its repeated use during challenging circumstances, the original power that Apollo, the god of the sun and the healing arts, gifted to this hero has grown past its limit and can now provide moderate healing at less cost to the hero’s life force. EFFECT ONE: In exchange for your own life force, any creature you touch will regain its health over time as long as your physical connection to them remains. At Delta-Level, the drain of using Healing Hand to the hero’s life-force is lessened by a fourth of the previous cost of healing any injury. EFFECT TWO: Other than physical injuries, Healing Hand can now heal or undo minor to moderate debilitating effects; Gamma-level Poison, Temporary Paralysis, Gamma-level Curse, Silence, Lesser Petrification, Charmed, and Mind-Control. WARNING: Use of Healing Hand will drain your life force continuously while it is active. It is recommended the hero refrain from using this power when your health is equal to or less than 25% of your total Health Point (HP).

“About damn time.” Sam’s grin was as wide as it had ever been. “Now, let’s see just what a delta-level power can achieve.”

The effect was immediate. The dark veins and red rashes around Officer Schmidt’s knife wound subsided quickly, and Sam wasn’t even getting the headache he usually incurred from overusing his power. But what really got Sam’s engine revving was the sight of Officer Schmidt’s eyes blinking open.

“Ouch,” was the first word to come out of the man’s bloody lips.

“Stay still,” Sam ordered as he moved his hands toward the police officer’s broken leg. “I’m not done healing you…”

“Wh-what… wh-who are—”

“It’s alright. I’m a healer…” That might have been the first time Sam had ever felt comfortable saying the word.

Now that the strain on his mind and body was lesser, Sam could shift his gaze forward so he might discover what the villain was up to.

The Trickster seemed to have forgotten about them for the moment as his efforts were focused on ridding the world of the priceless bronze statue that was the Bow of Heracles. However, it didn’t look like the first four shimmering, golden fists he’d launched on it had made any dent on the art piece, which is probably why all eight of them were now hovering around the statue.

“If at first you don’t succeed,” he snapped his fingers and sent his projectiles slamming into the Bow of Heracles, “then eight ought to do it!”

However, the eight golden fists weren’t enough either. They slammed into the Bow of Heracles and shattered back into the shimmering sparks they were formed from like they were nothing more than illusions in the face of the blessed statue.

“I suppose if an explosion from weapons-grade Greek fire wasn’t enough to dent you, then a barrage of punches wouldn’t cut it either.” The Trickster straightened the crumples out of the vest he wore underneath the maroon coat. “Perhaps I’m thinking too small. Perhaps what I need to conjure isn’t a god, but something significantly more monstrous.”

Far from feeling dejected, the challenge before him only seemed to encourage the Trickster. Sam could see it in his face, which at that moment reminded him of the charismatic villain the Trickster used to be.

“What in Hades is he blabbering about,” Sam wondered.

“The Trickster uses divine imagery as inspiration for his grand illusions,” Crow-Man answered. The veteran hero had recovered enough to move and stand beside Sam, which is when he spared Officer Schmidt a glance. “Are you done with him?”

“Almost…just want to make sure he can walk out on his own before we go for the Trickster,” Sam replied. “There is a plan, right?”

“Yeah, I have an idea if you’re up for—”

Up close, Crow-Man looked worse off than Sam imagined he’d be. There was a smear of blood at the corner of his mouth. He was also slightly out of breath, and one of his gloved hands was pressed to his gut. He was most likely suffering from internal injuries.

So it was almost instinct—that desire to heal another—which pushed Sam to move one of his hands off Officer Schmidt’s broken leg and grab onto Crow-Man’s shoulder.

“Healing Hand,” Sam whispered.

He wasn’t sure if it would work because he’d never tried to heal more than one person at a time before. He didn’t use to have enough life force to attempt such a risky move. Now, though, it was like Sam instinctively wanted to put his leveled-up power through its paces to see just what his new limits were.

Sam felt the power flow through the tips of his fingers and into Crow-Man, and that’s how he knew it was working. Sam, the former failure of a healer, now had the power to heal more than one person at a time.