Felix wanted to wantmore.
Hot tears blurred his vision. He scrubbed a hand across his damp face with a laugh. ‘You’re a shitty priest. Empathising with a nonbeliever. Is that allowed?’
‘It is not my job to judge you,’ said the Priest quietly. ‘Nor convert you. I only seek to help others find their path, wherever that might lead them. I wouldn’t be so certain your path ends here.’ He waved through the blue smoke and the hazy bird returned. ‘Where did you say Loren went?’
Felix drew in a ragged breath. ‘I sent him away. I said . . . horrible things . . .’
‘You aren’t the first to hurt someone to protect them.’
The Priest met Felix’s stunned stare evenly. The words sank in slowly, stirring the dregs of memories run dry. Felix learned that lesson long ago. Perhaps the final rule his father taught him, that wine-soaked day he killed Mercury’s priest.
To protect Felix, before the rest of their lives fell apart.
‘With any luck,’ Felix said, throat raw, ‘he’ll reach Surrentum before mid-afternoon. He must never return to Pompeii.’
‘Good. Now, where do you go from here?’
‘I have unfinished business. A debt to settle.’
The Priest’s brow crept higher. ‘We have an exit in the back if you want to try your luck.’
That should have been tempting. But as Felix sat there, the inevitability of his circumstances hardening his stomach, he said, ‘This is where I need to be. I’m tired of running.’
Before the Priest could speak, a low rumble rolled across the sky, thunder with no end. On the altar, the bowl chattered against stone.
‘What . . .’ Felix started.
Another great tremor rocked the ground. With a strangled cry, the Priest lurched, stool knocked unbalanced. Felix lunged to catch him, slinging the old man’s frail arm across his shoulders.
The maddening hum spiked in pitch.
Pain shot through Felix’s skull, an arrow fired clean.
Pressure snapped.
A catastrophic boom ripped the air in two. Some great, ungodly beast had wriggled into the heart of the earth and torn it asunder. Felix’s ears rang empty.
‘The mountain,’ the Priest wheezed. ‘Look to the mountain.’
Felix let the Priest go, then whipped around, darting to the door. Screams and shrieks echoed from beyond, muted by a dull, endless roar. He had no time to brace himself before he stumbled from the temple.
Hot air blasted him, a shock wave of scorching wind. On reflex, he shielded his face, then lowered his arm to squint through the sudden storm. Dust and detritus stirred by the gust scratched his eyes, but when he saw the source of the blast, the sting faded to the background.
The ground still trembled, but the world – its people – had stilled. All staring. All stunned.
Collective, silent horror.
Black tendrils like spilled ink twisted through the sky, curling and climbing up, up. The churning, deadly cloud roared and rose. The once-clear sky dimmed. The beast expanded. Ravenous. Hunting, like only the sun itself could satiate its hunger.
When the first flecks of ash began to fall, Felix almost thought it snow. October snow. He held out a palm, numb, truth not yet sinking in.
Then, all at once, it did.
Vesuvius had burst, and it was swallowing the world.
Felix had thoughts only for Loren, riding away from the city.
He tripped back inside, brain lagging. ‘Tell me he makes it. Don’t – it can’t –please.’
