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 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..."
The passage from The 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 to Nazareth's Hair 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.