Page 18 of Vesuvius

‘You promised not to laugh.’

‘I’m not laughing.’ His grin widened. ‘Virgin in a brothel.’

Loren grabbed the nearest object, a leather shoe, and chucked it. Felix ducked easily, and it thudded against the wall.

‘It’scheap. And they’ve been kind to me, Elias and the women.’ The landlord was a different story, but Loren rarely saw him around. ‘It isn’t like I work downstairs. It’s only a room.’

Felix sobered. ‘Barely. More like a closet.’

He wasn’t wrong. Long and narrow, it barely held a bed, storage trunk, and washbasin. If not for the window, Loren would call it a closet, too. Speaking of which – Loren latched the shutters, then sat cross-legged on his bed.

‘All right,’ he said. ‘Show me.’

Felix fiddled with the wrapping. ‘Your turn not to laugh.’

He didn’t give Loren a chance to promise. He pulled the cloth away, and any laughter Loren might have felt was punched from his chest.

In his hand, like it meant nothing, Felix held the helmet of Mercury.

Loren’s world plummeted, the bottom of his stomach dropping out.

Felix flipped it, knocked his knuckles on the dome. ‘Silly thing, isn’t it?’

‘Felix.’ Cold slipped down Loren’s throat.

‘Right there for the taking. If the statesman wanted it so badly, anyone could have grabbed it for him.’

‘Stop.’ Loren pressed a hand to his mouth, squeezing his eyes tight against a wave of nausea.Gods alive. He stumbled to his feet, dizzy. ‘You need to put that thing back. Tonight. Now. It can’t stay here. I don’t know how you took it, but—’

Felix offered it out. ‘It’s a helmet.’

‘It,’ Loren said, stepping back, ‘is cursed.’

That insufferable smile returned. ‘This old thing? Should I try it on?’ Felix bowed his head to duck into the crown.

Loren’s vision flashed white. He teetered forward. Collapsed.

Black wave. Copper streak.

The ghost splitting a stormy sky.

Swirling gaze. A stinging strike.

White wings splayed.

Then – oblivion.

He gasped and found himself kneeling, palms to the floor. Scruffy over-mended sandals and gore-splattered feet occupied his line of sight. Loren looked up. Felix’s grey eyes were wide. He gripped the helmet in one hand.

‘Don’t,’ Loren said. Blood washed across his mouth, salty and sharp. He must’ve bitten his tongue. ‘Never put it on.’

‘What happened?’ Felix bent, but it brought the helmet too close. The hair on Loren’s arms stood on end. He scrambled back until he hit the wall. Felix paused, then retreated, putting a closet’s worth of distance between them.

‘Isis.’ Loren slumped, pushing the heels of his hands against his cheekbones. If he’d thought their situation unstable before, they now navigated treacherous ground. Fear pulsed thin and choppy in his veins. ‘That’s why the crowd at the Priest’s session was so nervous. That’s why the guard got whipped outside Apollo’s temple. The helmet is one of Pompeii’s most valuable treasures. It’s been on display for centuries. The Romans stole it from the Corinthians ages ago, then gifted it to us. No one’s been able to move it since. It should have burned you to the bone.’

‘It’s a helmet.’

Loren shook his head slowly. ‘Felix, you stole a relic belonging to a god. That’s Mercury’s helmet.’

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