"
Valerius had blinked back his tears before they betrayed him. The truth was he did care, but he knew his father would fly into a rage if he ever dared breathe that aloud. "N-n-no. I don't c-c-care.
"
"Then prove it.
"
Valerius blinked, suddenly afraid of what that meant. "Prove it?
"
His father had retrieved the whip from the stand and handed it to him. "Give him ten more lashes, or I
will seeyou given twenty.
"
Heartsick and with his hand shaking, Valerius had taken the whip and delivered the lashes.
Unused to wielding a whip, he had missed Zarek's back entirely. His lashes landed on Zarek's unscarred arms and legs. Virgin flesh that had never been beaten before.
For the first time Zarek had hissed and recoiled from the lashes. So much so that the last lash ended up cutting across Zarek's face, right below his brow.
Zarek had screamed, cupping his eye as blood poured from between his dirty fingers.
Valerius had wanted to vomit as he heard his father praise him for blinding the slave's eye.
His father had actually patted him on the back. "That's it, my son. Always strike where they're most vulnerable. You'll make a fine general one day."
Zarek had looked up at him then and the emptiness was gone. The right side of his face had been covered in blood, but with his left eye, Zarek had conveyed all the pain and anguish he felt. All the hatred that was directed both inward and out.
That look was seared inside Valerius to this day.
His father had beaten Zarek again for the insolence of that glare.
No wonder Zarek hated them all. The man was entitled to it. More so now that Valerius knew the truth
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (http://www.novapdf.com) of Zarek's parentage.
He wondered when Zarek had learned the truth. Why no one had ever told him.
Angry, Valerius gripped the stone bust of their father.
"Why?" he demanded, knowing he'd never have an answer now.
And right then he hated his father more than ever. Hated the blood that flowed through his veins.
But at the end of the day, he was Roman.
It was his heritage.
Right or wrong, he couldn't deny it.
Lifting his head high, he retreated from the foyer to his bedroom upstairs.
But as he ascended the steps, he lashed out one last time.
Turning around, he kicked his leg out, catching the pedestal.
The bust of his father toppled against the stone marble floor and shattered.
NEW ORLEANS, THAT AFTERNOON
Zarek leaned back as the helicopter took off. He was going home.
No doubt he would die there.
If Artemis didn't kill him, he was sure Dionysus would. Dionysus's threat rang in his ears. For Sunshine's happiness, he had crossed a god who was sure to make him suffer even worse horrors than those in his past.
Zarek still didn't know why he'd done it, other than the fact that pissing people off was the only thing that truly gave him pleasure.
His gaze fell to his backpack.
Before he knew what he was doing, he took the handmade bowl out and held it in his hands.
He ran his hands over the intricate designs that Sunshine had carved. She had probably spent hours on this bowl.
Caressed it with loving hands…
"They waste their time over a rag doll and it becomes very important to them; and if anybody takes it away from them, they cry…
"
Create PDF files without this message by purchasing novaPDF printer (http://www.novapdf.com) The passage fromThe Little Prince ran through his mind. Sunshine had wasted much of her time on this and given him her work. She probably had no idea just how much her simple gift had touched him.
"You really are pathetic," he breathed, clutching the bowl in his hand as he curled his lip in repugnance.
"It meant nothing to her and for a worthless piece of clay you just consigned yourself to death."
Closing his eyes, he swallowed. It was true.
One more time, he was going to die for nothing.
"So what?
"
Let him die. Maybe then he would find some kind of solace.
Angered at his own stupidity, Zarek splintered the bowl with his thoughts. Pulling out his MP3 player, he scrolled toNazareth 'sHair of the Dog , put his headphones on, and waited for Mike to lighten the windows of the helicopter and let the lethal sunlight in on him.
It was, after all, what Dionysus had paid the Squire to do.
TARTARUS
Screams surrounded Styxx, piercing the blackness. He tried his best to see something and saw only the strange pinpoint ghost-lights of eyes that were desperate to be of use.
This place was cold. Icy. He felt his way along a craggy rock only to learn he was encased in a small, six-by-six-foot cell. There wasn't even enough room for him to lie down comfortably.