They turned a corner and vanished.
He looked around at the drunken tourists and locals who were screaming and cheering. It was almost onea.m . now and still the city was alive and vibrant even though the crowd was being told to disperse.
"When do I go back?" Zarek asked, dreading the answer.
"Tomorrow. Nick'll be by to pick you up about two. He'll have a tinted van that can get you out to the airstrip without exposing you to daylight."
Zarek closed his eyes and winced as he thought about returning toAlaska . A few weeks more and spring would arrive.
He'd be housebound again.
A flash to his left caught his attention. Three seconds later, a Daimon came running through the crowd.
The Daimon flashed his fangs and snarled at Zarek as if he had no idea who or what he was facing.
Zarek smiled evilly, anticipating what he was about to do.
"What are you?" the Daimon asked when he failed to scare or intimidate him.
Zarek quirked his lips. "Oh please, let me give you the job description. Me, Dark-Hunter. You, Daimon.
I hit, you bleed. I kill, you die."
"Not this time." The Daimon attacked.
Acting on instinct, Zarek caught him in the throat and used his claw to kill him.
The Daimon evaporated as Valerius came running up through the crowd.
The Roman was breathing hard and had obviously been chasing after the Daimon for some distance.
Valerius looked at Ash and inclined his head, then he glanced to Zarek and froze.
Zarek met his shocked gaze without flinching. As per Ash's orders, he had shaved his goatee off.
Recognition darkened Valerius's eyes as he stood there without blinking.
Zarek gave him a wry smile. "Surprise," he said quietly. "Bet you didn't see that one coming."
Without another word, he headed off into the crowd, leaving Valerius and Acheron to their own ends.
Valerius
NEW ORLEANSAT DAWN
Brothers. The word hung in Valerius's heart as he stared at the marble bust in his foyer. It was the face of his father.
It was the face of his brother.
Zarek.
Pain racked him as he stood there trying to reconcile the past with the present. Why had he never seen
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But he knew. He'd never really looked at Zarek before tonight.
A pathetic lowborn slave, Zarek had been so far beneath his notice that he had barely glanced at the boy.
There had only been one time in their lives when he had truly seen him.
He couldn't remember now what Zarek had been beaten for. For that matter, he couldn't even remember which of his brothers had committed the deed that had caused Zarek's punishment. It could just as well have been his misdeed as that of one of the others.
He only remembered that it was the first time he had recognized Zarek as a person.
Zarek had been lying on the cobbled floor, clutching his arms over his chest, his naked, scarred back bloody and torn.
What had struck Valerius most was the look on Zarek's face. The boy's eyes had been hollow. Empty.
Not a single tear was evident.
Valerius had wondered at the time why Zarek hadn't cried at such a harsh beating, but then it had dawned on him that Zarek never cried.
The wretched slave had never uttered a single word while they beat him. No matter what they said or did, the boy just took it like a man, with no sobs, no begging. Just hard, cold stoicism.
Valerius couldn't fathom such strength from someone who was younger than him.
Before he realized what he was doing, he'd reached out and touched one of the welts on Zarek's back.
Raw and bleeding, it had looked so painful that he tried to imagine what it would feel like to haveone such wound, much less an entire back full of them.
Zarek didn't move.
"Do you need…" Valerius had choked on the last of the sentence. He had wanted to help Zarek up, but knew they would both be punished if anyone saw him do such a thing.
"What are you doing?
"
His father's angry voice caused him to jump. "I-I-Iwas l-l-looking at his back," he answered honestly.
His father had narrowed his eyes on him. "Why?
"
"I was c-c-curious." Valerius hated how he always stuttered around his father.
"Why? Do you think it hurts him?
"
Valerius had been too afraid to answer. His father had had that dead look that often came into his eyes.
A look that meant the kind, loving father he knew was gone and the brutal military commander was there
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As much as he loved his father, he feared the military commander, who was capable of most any act of coldblooded ruthlessness, even against his own sons.
"Answer me, boy. Do you think it hurts him?
"
He nodded.
"Do you care if it hurts him?