Page 114 of Vesuvius

Slowly, Loren turned back.

‘I think you’re right,’ he said quietly. ‘Our paths diverge here. This is the last time I’ll see you. I won’t make a promise I cannot keep.’

‘Don’t go,’ Aurelia rasped. ‘I’m sorry for lying.’

‘Aurelia, I’m not angry. But if I can’t save the city, I must go back for Felix.’

That would have to be enough.

She dropped to the ground and hid her face.

Which left Livia. Livia, who had pulled a terrified Loren to her chest when he was fresh to the city. Livia, who treated him like her son by blood, kept him dressed and never asked for payment. Who loved him, simply because she felt he was worthy of her love. Now she clutched the reins of his mare.

‘I had a vision,’ Loren lied, ‘where I get him out. I’ll get both of us to safety. Are you going to stop me?’

Livia’s eyes watered, lips pursed tight, and Loren readied for a fight. But she shook her head. Taking a deep breath, she placed a hand over his pounding chest. ‘The Egyptians believed thoughts sprang from here. Now we know better; they come from the mind. But I think, sometimes, it’s all right to follow what your heart tells you.’

‘Mamma.’ Loren’s voice cracked.

She tugged him forward in an embrace that could have lasted for ever. He sank into it.

‘There are few things worth running to,’ she murmured. ‘Love is one.’

When Livia pulled back, she curled Loren’s fingers around the reins, then unhooked the saddle bags. He swung his leg over his mare’s back and guided her to face the mess he’d left behind.

‘Wait!’ Aurelia shrieked. In a flurry of limbs, she scrambled from her huddle to dash to the second horse.

Alarm surged through him. ‘You can’t come with me.’

But Aurelia wasn’t mounting. Instead, she fumbled with the saddle until a familiar sheath slid free. Then she fetched her father’s gladius from where Livia had dropped it after the attack. Aurelia shoved both into his stunned hands.

‘Take this.’ When Loren shook his head, she bared her teeth. ‘Take it.’

Loren looked to Livia. The sword was her last relic of her husband. Surely . . . but she only nodded. He fastened the sheath to his belt and slid the gladius home. It hung heavy, a weight he’d never carried.

Aurelia gripped his knee. With all the wisdom her twelve years afforded her, she said, ‘Fuck destiny.’

Loren spurred his horse without waiting to hear Livia scold Aurelia for cursing. He trained his attention on the black cloud swelling from Vesuvius. He didn’t look back.

As Loren urged his horse faster, hooves kicking swirls of dust, he wondered if Livia had read his latest lie on his face.I had a vision.What – no offense to his mare – horseshit. His dreams weren’t so concrete, nor did his visions project so far out. Livia knew all that, and still she’d let him go.

Despite what Aurelia predicted, Loren swore if he survived today, he’d find them again and he’d tell them the truth.

Suffocating black devoured the sky beyond, punctuated with orange flares. Ash fell thick as searing snow. Inhaling set Loren’s lungs ablaze. Outside Pompeii’s walls, refugees, faces terrorised and streaked with grime, huddled in the meagre shelter of the tombs. Loren drove past the stragglers and burst into the burning city, dismounting at the gate. His mare was skittish and drained, and tying her beneath a roof was unfair, but Loren couldn’t afford for her to bolt. Once he had Felix, they’d need a quick escape.

‘I’ll be back for you,’ he promised.

She didn’t look convinced.

The Via Stabiana lay deserted. Hours had passed since the mountain had exploded. By now, those who hadn’t fled had retreated to the safety of their homes and shops to avoid debris and wait out the storm. Smoke billowed from buildings, fires catching from burning pebbles falling. Loren’s sandals echoed as he dashed up the road, dodging abandoned carts and ducking below awnings sagging from accumulating ash. His gladius knocked against his hip.

If Felix was with Servius, Loren had no idea where to start looking. He should have demanded to know which house belonged to Servius days ago. Everything was clearer in retrospect. Loren skidded to a stop at the corner near the theatre, next to the Temple of Isis, and paused, panting, to collect histhoughts.

‘Loren?’

His heart skipped. A figure slumped on the temple’s steps. Even with her short hair matted by sweat and ash, Camilia’s scowl was recognisable anywhere.

Relief soared in Loren’s chest, proof another soul was still alive within Pompeii’s walls. He jogged down the walk to kneel before her. They reached out at the same time, and Camilia clutched his hands to her chest. Up close, she looked even more haggard, the kohl around her eyes smeared.

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