But he was used to wanting things he couldn't have.
The door on his right opened and a small boy stepped out. The runt was cute enough for an ankle-biter. He had short brown hair and was sobbing. The kid pulled up sharply at the sight of Zarek standing there.
Zarek ignored him.
"Hey, mister?" the boy said, his voice trembling. "Can you help me? I'm lost."
Zarek took a deep breath and pushed himself away from the railing.
He tucked his clawed hand into his pants pocket and turned around. "Believe me, kid. I know the feeling."
He offered the child his bare hand and was stunned at how small and trusting the boy was. He couldn't remember a time in his life he would have ever reached out to someone and trusted them not to hurt him. "So, who are we looking for? Your mom or your dad?"
"My mommy. She's really pretty and big."
Zarek nodded. "What's her name?"
"Mommy."
Now that was really helpful... not. "How old are you, kid?"
"I'm this many." He sniffed back his tears and held up four little fingers. "How old are you?"
"A lot more than four fingers."
The boy held up all ten. "This many?"
Zarek smiled in spite of himself. "C'mon," he said, opening the door. "I'm sure there's someone inside who can help you find your mommy."
The boy wiped his face with his sleeve as Zarek led him into the Brewery. They hadn't gone far when he heard a woman gasp.
"What are you doing with my son?"
"Mommy!" The boy bolted toward the woman.
She grabbed the child up and the feral, suspicious look she cast Zarek let him know a hasty exit would be wise.
Some nights it didn't pay to appear dark and sinister.
"Security!" she shrieked.
Zarek cursed and ran back out the door. He leapt over the banister, to the stairs a story below, and quickly lost himself in the crowd.
Or so he thought.
As soon as he was halfway down Wilkinson, he saw Acheron waiting in the shadows.
This was just what he friggin' needed-Acheron to chew him out for locking Nick in the closet and leaving the house while he was under orders to stay put.
Zarek snarled. "Don't start on me, Ash."
Acheron cocked a brow at that. "Start on you for what?"
The hair on the back of his neck rose. Acheron was too relaxed and there was no tensing of his shoulders like Acheron always got when they came into contact with each other.
They had declared their mutual dislike for each other over two thousand years ago.
The man in front of him was acting as if Zarek were one of the Dark-Hunters Acheron was friendly with.