CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN

The Girl That Time Forgot, Part 2

The sight of her face, older than he remembered but still so familiar that it felt like they’d only seen each other yesterday sent Sam’s mind into a shock so great his whole body shook. He fell to his knees in disbelief. How was this possible? How was she here now when she was supposed to be dead?

WARNING! Your mental state has deteriorated. [Regeneration (Δ)] cannot heal you.

Sam’s mind was spiraling. He was in such a deep shock that he barely registered Thunder’s hand on his shoulder.

“Sam,” her voice dripped with worry, “what’s wrong?”

WARNING! You will lose consciousness if you cannot rally.

A great big lump was stuck in Sam’s throat. He puked right after a single word escaped his lips. “Serena…”

A memory flashed across Sam’s mind, one he’d been suppressing for so long that its resurfacing caused his brain to tremble worse than ever; Sam’s father with his arms wrapped around Sam’s mother while they cried their hearts out in front of the statue of the goddess who’d stolen the joy from their family.

“Give her back!” Sam’s mother had screamed. “Give me back my baby!”

Hearing his mother’s voice in his mind for the first time in ages, that’s what finally broke him.

ALERT! Your intelligence [35] is not high enough to ward off your mental distress.

Sam had barely read that last notification before darkness took him and he tumbled to the ground unmoving.

***

“Sam!” His father called. “Come on! We don’t want to be late for Serena’s blessing!”

Thirteen-year-old Sam Shepard sighed. “It’s not like you need me there.”

The thought of another Blessing Day was like a reminder of his failure to receive a stronger gift from his patron, the god who had been extra-shady during their first meeting.

Stupid Apollo, Sam thought. How am I supposed to find these Fated Sisters? I’m only thirteen!

An elbow jabbed him in the side, driving away the blasphemous musings from Sam’s mind.

“Are you saying you don’t want to see the goddess bless me?” his sister asked.

Sam glanced down at Serena, who, at age eight, was now like the bite-sized version of their mother. They even shared the same feisty temperament.

Serena was frowning. As if to imply that her blessing day wouldn’t be a blessing without her big brother, and that feeling of being needed washed away Sam’s resentment.

He ruffled her hair. “Alright, alright, I’m coming.”

Serena reached out for his hand, and as he had done since the very first time his mother introduced him to her, Sam took his sister’s hand in his and led her across the street to where their parents, Steven and Adele, waited.

“Are you okay, Sammy?” his mother asked like the intuitive mamma she was.

Truthfully, the last five years hadn’t been that great for Sam. Apollo had given him such a crappy gift that he was bullied in school for not being more like his amazing parents, both of whom were on that year’s US top twenty hero rankings. It wasn’t just the students either. Even his teachers—all of them gifted like it usually was in a middle school for heroes-in-training—made Sam feel like he wasn’t up to snuff.

Adele Shepard, the latest recipient of the highly coveted Shieldmaiden award, learned that Sam was being bullied earlier that year. She stormed Excelsior Middle School and beat up Sam’s homeroom teacher with one of her famous one-punch knockouts.

“I don’t care if you want to sue!” Adele had snapped at the principal. “Anyone who hurts my kid will get the business end of my fist. That’s my brand of justice!”

That was her famous tagline, by the way, one that made villains all over North America quiver in fright. One could imagine how quickly the principal had bowed his head to appease her.

As for Sam’s dad, he’d reacted more calmly than his wife had. After smoothing it out with the school like the Peacemaker he was, Steven had flown his son up the top of the Empire State Building to dole out some much-needed wisdom to the newly minted teenager.

“Your mom’s a little extreme, isn’t she?” he’d joked.

Sam had been too mortified to laugh. “I’m not going back to that school, am I?”

“Not if you don’t want to,” Steven had promised.

“But?”

His father had spent a few more seconds surveying the night sky before he pointed out a constellation to his son. “You know who that is?”

Sam had taken in the sight of the man-shaped constellation that seemed to be twinkling brighter than all the others that night. “It’s Hercules.”

“He’s your favorite, isn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“Because he never backed down from anything.”

“He was really brave, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Sam had sighed. “You don’t think I should quit that school.”

“That’s up to you.” Steven had ruffled his son’s hair which was a similar dark brown as his and just as unruly. “It’s okay to run away when things are too hard, Sammy. That keeps heroes like us alive to try again.”

“But?”

“You run once and you might never stop running… Sometimes we need to be brave and endure.” Steven had pointed up at Hercules’ constellation. “Like he was brave. Like he endured.”

“I’m not like Hercules or you, dad,” Sam had protested. “I can’t leap tall buildings in a single bound. And I’m not bulletproof either.”

Sam had glanced down at the city below in frustration. He didn’t like being reminded that he was nowhere near as cool as his father was.

“My gift’s satyr-crap,” he’d grumbled.

“Language,” Steven had scolded.

They’d stood there for a long while in silence before Steven wrapped his arm around Sam’s shoulder. “Do you know who my idol is?”

“Iron Blood,” Sam had answered instantly.

“And you know why, right?”

Sam knew what his father was getting at, of course. Iron Blood was the only Zeta in history to ever break into the US top ten rankings. He’d beaten out other Numbers—the nickname given to the top ten heroes—like White Lighter, Sealord, and Queen Raven to the seventh spot with only his wits and skills to supplement what many viewed as a lackluster power to turn his body into iron.

“Even with his iron body, Iron Blood wasn’t particularly strong or sturdy,” Steven had explained, “but he made up for his weakness with training.”

“Training?” Sam had repeated.

“He made up for his lack of strength by training his body in a multitude of martial arts. And he beat his enemies, from the lowest-ranked villains to the greater horrors of our age, by studying their weaknesses.”

“But didn’t the gorgon kill him?”

Steven’s face had turned grave when he nodded.

“Then training and studying aren’t enough to fight against power levels,” Sam had insisted.

“That’s not true… I wouldn’t have managed to slay the gorgon if he hadn’t been there to help me.” Steven had gazed at his son with pride in his eyes. “Iron Blood was the greatest mentor a hero could have, and he was my best friend, too.”

He’d tapped his son’s chest with his forefinger.

“He was a zeta like you, but that didn’t stop him from doing all the amazing things that he did.” Steven had leaned down so that he and Sam were at eye level. “You see, Sammy, it’s not how powerful the gift, but what you do with it that defines you.”

A spark of hope had grown in Sam’s chest at his father’s words—and the memory of that time helped him to answer his mother’s question with a smile.

“I’m okay,” Sam said as he swung Serena’s hand back and forth. “Today’s not about me.”

Adele reached out for her son’s other hand, and despite being thirteen, Sam was happy to take it. He didn’t know it then, but that would be the last time he’d hold her hand. An hour from now, Sam’s family would break apart, and the world as he knew it would never be the same again.