injury? He must have struggled simply to keep himself afloat. Why had he not just let the slave go?
Only a blood tie could engender that kind of selflessness.
"You are my brother?" the slave mumbled through his ruined lip. "Verily, I am blood to you?"
"Aye. I am your twin."
The slave started to shake. "Untruth."
"Truth."
A curious dread set upon the slave, chilling him. He curled up into himself in spite of the raw flesh that covered him from head to foot. It had never occurred to him that he was other than a slave, that he might have had a chance to live differently... live as a male, not as property.
The slave rocked back and forth in the dirt. When he stopped, he looked once again at the warrior. What of his family? Why had this happened? Who was he? And...
"Do you know if I had a name?" the slave whispered. "Was I ever given a name?"
The warrior drew a ragged breath, as if every one of his ribs were broken.
"Your name is Zsadist." The warrior's breathing shortened and shortened until he choked out his words. "You are the son... of Ahgony, a great warrior. You are the beloved of our... mother, Naseen."
The warrior let out a wretched sob and dropped his head into his hands.
While he wept, the slave watched.
Zsadist shook his head, remembering those silent hours that had followed. Phury and he had spent most of the time just staring at each other. They'd both been in rough shape, but Phury was the stronger of them even with his missing limb. He'd gathered driftwood and strands of seaweed and cobbled the stuff together into a rickety, unreliable raft. When the sun had gone down they had dragged themselves into the ocean and had floated down the coastline to freedom.
Freedom.
Yeah, right. He wasn't free; never had been. Those lost years had stayed with him, the anger over what he'd been cheated of and what had been done to him more alive than he was.
He heard Bella saying that she loved him. And he wanted to scream at something.
Instead, he started for the Pit. He had nothing worthy of her except his vengeance, so he was damn well going to get back to work. He would see all the lessers crushed before him, stacked in the snow like logs, a testament to the only thing he could offer her.
And as for the one who had taken her, the one who had hurt her, there was a special death waiting for him. Z had no love to give anyone. But the hatred he had he would channel for Bella until the last breath left his lungs.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Phury lit a blunt and eyed the sixteen cans of Aqua Net that were lined up on Butch and V's coffee table. "What's doing with the hair spray? You boys going drag on us?"
Butch held up the length of PVC pipe he was punching a hole in. "Potato launcher, my man. Big fun."
"Excuse me?"
"Didn't you ever go to summer camp?"
"Basket weaving and woodcarving are for humans. No offense, but we have better things to teach our youngs."
"Ha! You haven't lived until you've gone on a midnight panty raid. Anyway, you put the potato in this end, you fill up the bottom with spray - "
"And then you light it," V cut in from his bedroom. He came out in a robe, rubbing a towel on his wet hair. "Makes a great noise."
"Great noise," Butch echoed.
Phury looked at his brother. "V, you've done this before?"
"Yeah, last night. But the launcher jammed up."
Butch cursed. "Potato was too big. Damn Idaho bakers. We're leading with red skins tonight. It's going to be great. Of course, trajectory can be a bitch - "
"But it's really just like golf," V said, dropping the towel across a chair. He pulled a glove over his right hand, covering the sacred tattoos that marked the thing from palm to fingertip and all across the back. "I mean, you gotta think of your arc in the air - "
Butch nodded up a storm. "Yeah, it's just like golf. Wind plays a big role - "
"Huge."
Phury smoked along as they finished each other's sentences for another couple minutes. After a while he felt compelled to mention, "The two of you are spending way too much time together, you feel me?"
V shook his head at the cop. "The brother has no appreciation for this kind of thing. Never has."
"Then we aim for his room."
"True that. And it faces