Chapter 11
WOLFE
The newspapers would have the people believe that the immortals had eradicated the monsters within Olympiara's limits.
Monsters were a problem for the wastelands lying outside Olympiara, not for within our walls, well protected by Poseidon.
That was the reason the immortals had come to power.
Zeus and Poseidon had put a stop to the never-ending tsunami of beasts that came to hurt us.
However, as someone who spent their life creeping through the shadows, I had learned that wasn't entirely true.
Smaller, more cunning monsters like the Cerastes or the occasional Diomedes Mare scrounged their way through our defenses and feasted on the remnants of the old city and the poor sons-of-bitches that tried to live there.
I hadn't feared monsters while I was alive, and I certainly didn't now. I had sat within a desecrated building with a gun in one hand, ice creeping from my body as I waited for the sun to descend.
The witching hour was upon Apollo’s Zone, and darkness cloaked my frostbitten movements. I walked into the hospital, the indoor plants browning and curling as I passed.
Hades had explained how to sense the blight. As an undead soul, I could taste death in the air. The disease left a foul, sickly-sweet flavor on the tip of my tongue that made me grimace. It was overpowering and easy to follow.
There had been a separate, contagious wing in Zone 8 that held those affected.
I had expected the same in Alexikakos, but I soon found I was wrong.
My senses led me to the emergency wing of the hospital.
It was the largest wing, marked with a set of swinging double doors that led to a hallway with rows of rooms on either side.
I evaded the hospital staff by dipping into the shadows as they passed by me, unaware of the death that lingered close.
I wasn’t worried about reconnaissance of the room. Like the other hospitals, there was no fight to be had. These were innocent, sick people meeting Charon at the end of what were likely short, miserable lives. Thus, I entered the room with only a quick scan of what it held.
The cramped room within revealed two patients lying in adjacent beds. Both were sleeping, attached to machines that flashed and beeped in the navy darkness, but only one reeked of that wretched sweet smell. There was something incredibly wrong here.
There was a lurch in my chest like the tug of a leash, urging me to get on with it.
I sighed. As a mere pawn at play, it wasn't my job to question such things. I strode to the inflicted man’s side.
Black phlegm stained the crevices of his lips, and blisters coated his sweat-slicked flesh.
Every breath held a dangerous rattle, making my chest clench.
My job was to snuff out an already weakened light.
There was no sport or skill necessary, and that above all else felt wrong.
It went against whatever little piece of morality I had left, but Hades was right.
These people were suffering. The least I could do was make it painless for them, and hope Hades was more forgiving of their sins than she was to mine.
I laid my hand on his forehead. It wasn't something I had done before this trip, but somehow the power came to me as naturally as breathing.
I found his resting mind within his skull and spread my frost through the meat that made this man who he was.
It was immediate and painless; his brain was gone before it had time to process what was happening.
The other patient shifted and groaned. When I straightened, there was a pair of brown eyes gazing back at me. I should end him too, but he hadn't reacted to my presence, and I wasn't killing more innocents than was required of me.
I raised my finger to my lips. "Shhh."
He nodded, the movement sluggish. He surprised me with a soft whisper that filled the chilled space between us. "Thank you."