CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED SIXTY-TWO

Marked for Death, Part 1

The Wardens arrived about fifteen minutes after the heroes stopped the empousa’s rampage. Incidentally, it took Sam that same amount of time to come to terms with the fact that he was now on Hades’s shit list.

Better me than Thunder or the others. I heal. I can take the bites of the walking dead without getting infected by Underworld rabies or worse, he rationalized in his mind.

You do make an excellent punching bag, Chiron chuckled.

Sam watched the Wardens place the power-dampening cuffs on Bloodfyre’s hands with a frown.

I’m serious here, master… what can we expect from this Mark of Hector?

A half-second later and a new notification arrived before Sam almost as if Triple-A had been waiting for him to ask that question.

POWER: Mark of Hector LEVEL: Gamma (Γ) DESCRIPTION: A curse that was first placed on Hector of Troy to mark him as an eternal loser to all who were damned. It has since evolved into a weapon Hades and his lieutenants employ on undesirables who have earned their ire, turning them into the enemies of all creatures under Hades’s influence. This includes undead creatures such as vampires and ghouls, long-dead specters such as phantoms and wraiths, as well as denizens of the Underworld like the furies and hydras. ALERT! The Mark of Hector is a permanent condition that increases in veracity the longer it is maintained. To remove it, earn Hades’ favor or cleanse yourself in the river Styx. The latter solution is not recommended for obvious reasons.

That’s it? Sam’s frown deepened as he watched Bloodfyre being led toward a coffin similar to the one Apex had been locked into. Either I jump into the Styx, which only one person in history has ever managed to survive, or I find a way to placate Hades, something I can’t do unless I travel to his main temple in Epirus?

I don’t recommend visiting the Nekromanteion while you’ve got that mark on you, kid… Ephyra’s the country of the damned. You wouldn’t make it past the airport’s immigration counter before the locals start attacking you like sharks smelling blood in the water, Chiron warned.

Freaking Mark of Hector… it’s like having an undead bounty on my head.

You may also request a cleansing from the Temple of Apollo but this route will require a donation large enough to satisfy a full congregation of Apollo’s faithful who will pray to the sun god to mediate with Hades on your behalf.

Apollo speaking on my behalf… will Hades even listen to him?

Chance of success is… unable to compute. Too many random variables concerning Apollo.

Don’t bother with the temple… Apollo’s priestesses still don’t like you and won’t give you the friends and families discount, Chiron reminded Sam. It’ll mean spending tens of thousands of drachmas for this little curse that’s just Hades’ way of intimidating you.

So, your suggestion is I do nothing?

My suggestion is you suck it up, steal back the Golden Fleece from Medea, and then just heal yourself, lame-brain.

Huh, that’s not a bad idea, but that means I’m going to need some intel after all.

Sam walked over to one of the wardens he recognized. It was Warden Salvatore, the young warden in charge of the agency coalition responsible for recapturing the ‘Dirty Dozens’ and whoever else had been involved in their escape, which included Bloodfyre, the prison break’s prime instigator.

“Hey, man, I need a favor…”

Warden Salvatore shook Sam’s hand, and then, knowing what he was about to ask, the young warden smiled. “Ten minutes. Then I have to transport her out of here.”

“Thanks.”

Moments later, Sam, Thunder, and Crow-Man were staring down Bloodfyre while she lay inside the snug hi-tech interior of the open coffin the Wardens strapped her into. It was a sight Sam thought was strangely appropriate for a powerful vampire.

It wasn’t difficult to get Bloodfyre to talk either. For, as the empousa explained, “To send you where Medea’s going would be a kind of revenge in itself.”

“What do you mean?” Thunder asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Bloodfyre’s tongue licked at the dried blood on her lips. “There are only a few reasons a sorceress would require soul stones while on a journey.”

“They’re meant to fuel a teleportation spell,” Crow-Man deduced.

“Not just any teleportation spell…” Bloodfyre whispered forebodingly. “…but one that’ll open a path into Hades itself.”

“Hades…” Sam scratched at his arm as if he’d just been stung by something. “She’s going to the underworld… Why?”

“To locate the Grave of Pride and resurrect the elder giant who will usher in the twilight of the gods,” Bloodfyre answered.

A foreboding silence hung in the air after the empousa’s admittance of Medea’s evil plan. It was a silence broken by Thunder as she recalled out loud a phrase she’d heard a few days ago.

“Calamity comes to the land of the dead,” Thunder began, which Sam finished, “While the world above meets misery and dread…”

Thunder pressed her fingers to her brow.

“It’s the Trickster’s godsdamn prophecy,” Thunder sighed.

“So, to fulfill a madman’s prophecy, the immortal sorceress is searching for an elder giant’s burial mound tucked away in some dark corner of the Olympian underworld.” Crow-Man leaned into the coffin so that Bloodfyre could see the famous glower that had struck fear into the hearts of many villains already. “How’s she planning to bring a dead giant back to life?”

Bloodfyre’s pointed gaze drifted over to Sam.

“That’s why she’s keeping Serena close… Medea knows I’ll follow after her as long as she has my sister,” Sam realized.

“Yes”—Bloodfyre flashed him a toothy smile—“which will be quite hard for you, Sam. Not with that target on your head.”

Thunder glanced sideways at Sam. “What does the empousa mean?”

“Nothing,” Sam lied. “She’s just playing around…”

“Perhaps I am.” Despite the bonds clinging to her arms, Bloodfyre still managed a shrug. “Perhaps this burning desire to strike you down is nothing more than my subconscious blaming you for my current predicament… Then again, perhaps not.”

“Sam?” Thunder’s voice was insistent now. “What’s going on?”

“I-It’s nothing,” he promised. “It’s just—”

From the corner of his eye, Sam watched Bloodfyre break her restraints as if they were as thin and weak as paper. Expecting he was the empousa’s target, Sam shoved Thunder out of the way, and then summoned Bulwark’s aura to wrap around his body—but he was wrong.

Bloodfyre had indeed jumped in Sam’s general direction, but the empousa twisted her body around in midair and reached out for Crow-Man instead as he was standing closest to the coffin. She wrapped him in her dark embrace—and it would have been fatal for most heroes, but Crow-Man was already swinging feather-shaped daggers at her.

“Crow-Man!” Sam yelled.

Bloodfyre bit his neck with fangs that pierced through even the tough fabric of his suit while Crow-Man stabbed her in the sides of her iron-like stomach. It was a spectacular counter. Still, the empousa’s embrace held while she devoured his blood.

“You’re not killing me”—Crow-Man had left the first two daggers in her and was already swinging two more daggers at her—“I’m killing you, vampire!”

He plunged both daggers into her spine and slid them toward her shoulder blades as if he were drawing the wings of a bloody eagle across her back.

“Argh~~h!” Bloodfyre screamed.

Finally, her hands slackened around his shoulders, allowing the Wardens who’d just arrived to pull Bloodfyre away. Meanwhile, Crow-Man stumbled back into Sam’s arms. A bloody gash on the left side of his neck dripped blood down onto Sam’s arm.

“Are you—”

“I’m alright,” Crow-Man insisted. “Just lightheaded…”

“You’ll have more than a headache to worry about soon, Crow-Man!” Bloodfyre screamed as she struggled against her captors. “The pain you’ve caused me is but a drop in the ocean compared to what’s coming!”

Sam grimaced at the sight of blood dripping down Bloodfyre’s mouth, and it made him angry. “I’m the one with the Mark of Hector!”

“And now your ally is marked as well, but with something far more sinister than the one Hades placed on you,” Bloodfyre promised.

Bloodfyre cackled at Sam, taunting him despite the wardens were already strapping the empousa back into the coffin. Something they just barely managed to do because Thunder kept Bloodfyre in check with the same ‘Static Cage’ Sam had seen her use against the Terror that brought the two of them together.

“There is but one price that Thanatos will accept to bring the dead back to life…” Bloodfyre hissed through sparks of electricity racing over her face. “…A life for a life… and now, you’ve been marked for death, Crow-Man. You will be the sacrifice that shall ensure the rise—”

Thunder smacked Bloodfyre in the chin with a punch coated in electricity, causing the vampire to shudder like she’d been zapped by a heavy-duty taser, and allowing the Wardens to finally shut the lid on her coffin and cart the empousa away.

The Wardens shut the lid on Bloodfyre’s coffin and carted her away.

“Gods, she wouldn’t shut up,” Thunder glowered. It was a glower she turned on Sam next. “You and I are going to talk about this Mark of Hector later, or I’ll smack you even harder than I just hit her.”

“It’s really no—”

A spark of electricity flashed across Thunder’s eyes, forcing Sam’s lie to get stuck in his throat.

“S-sure,” he sighed. “I’ll tell you everything later…”

Thunder’s glare softened when she moved on from Sam to Crow-Man. Although the veteran hero was quick to wave away her look of concern with a slight shake of his head.

“I’m alright, Sam,” he said as he pulled away from him.

“Let me heal—”

Crow-Man raised a hand. “I can manage.”

He pulled out a gel-like teal patch from one of the pouches in his belt and pressed it against the wound on his neck.

“After watching you heal that cop at the Met and yourself, I had some of Flint Tech’s scientists whip this life-gel up. It’s both an anesthetic and clotting agent that instantly seals wounds while promoting rapid regeneration using—”

“Life force!” He could sense life force from the teal patch on Chiron’s neck. “But… who’s?”

“Mine,” Crow-Man answered.

“Yo-yours?” Sam’s brow creased. “How’s that possible.”

“The gel lets you store a bit of your life force into it for emergencies,” Crow-Man explained.

Sam knew of only one substance that can hold life force, though. He’d seen it in the very containers that the wardens were now confiscating.

“Is that life-gel made from… soul stones?” Sam asked worriedly.

He couldn’t believe a hero he looked up to would use something so nefarious even for altruistic purposes, but there seemed no other alternative.

“Calm down, Sam.” Crow-Man almost smiled at the worry plastered on Sam’s face. Almost. “This is a synthetic compound. It can’t absorb life the way soul stones can. Only the excess life force humans get from eating and sleeping but don’t burn away during our day-to-day activities.”

“Wow… it sounds like you didn’t just invent the real-world equivalent of a healing potion, but an alternative slimming solution too.” Thunder’s eyes were glittering as she stared at the patch on Crow-Man’s neck, but then she frowned suddenly. “You seriously got the idea for this from watching Sam heal someone?”

This time, a smile appeared on Crow-Man’s lips. “Inspiration comes from the weirdest places, doesn’t it?”

Life-gel wasn’t Crow-Man’s only big reveal either. He also informed Sam and Thunder that he would be joining them on their next big adventure.

“If Bloodfyre’s claims are true then I have even more incentive to climb aboard the Argo VII and follow you into Hades,” Crow-Man stated.

“Y-you’re going with us?” Sam confirmed, sounding suddenly hopeful.

He was not liking the prospect of visiting the underworld. Especially now that he was burdened with the Mark of Hector. But, with Crow-Man leading the fight, well, Sam was feeling much more confident about their next mission.

“Raven Knight can take care of the city for a while.” The sound of footsteps made Crow-Man glance over his shoulder. “We’re going to need more room though.”

Sam followed his line of sight and saw the other heroes now hurriedly making their way to where the trio discussed the near future.

“I guess we could use another healer… and an ice wielder would be pretty useful in hell,” he conceded.

“Also,” Thunder’s brow creased, “assuming we fail to stop Medea from entering the underworld, the Argo VII may need an upgrade if we’re chasing after her.”

“Upgrades?” Sam looked suddenly excited as thoughts of an even cooler Argo VII appeared in his mind’s eye. Something childish like a bus with wings and rockets strapped to its rear. “I wouldn’t mind upgrades.”

“I know just who to talk to,” Crow-Man answered. “It’s time I introduced you to Mr. Marsday.”