Page 59 of Vesuvius

‘Careful.’ Celsi pinched deeper. ‘You won’t take my place on the council if that’s your plan. My father paid for my chair. Sitting pretty with Spinster Julia won’t get you anywhere.’

Loren sighed, despite it all. ‘I’m not trying to take your place.’

‘Really?’ Big eyes swam through Celsi’s lashes. Then he stomped on Loren’s toes. ‘Because you’ve done it before. I could have had both, you know. Isis and Jupiter. Until you came along.’

Pain radiated from Loren’s trampled foot, and he gritted his teeth. ‘That wasn’t my fault.’

‘Camilia always liked me better. Even now, you’re nothing but my replacement.’ Celsi squeezed Loren’s hand one last time and pulled away, ducking to the other side of the procession line as they reached the wide-flung temple doors. Loren itched to chase after him, but the weight of Julia’s expectations held him back.

The Temple of Jupiter was grand and regal, and Pompeii’s most important worshipped here. Loren only visited at his most desperate, when he play-acted having status, but under the stern eyes of Jupiter’s statue, he always felt like nobody. Even now, bundled in his expensive toga, Loren couldn’t shake the heavy shadow cast by the king of the gods, flanked by Minervaand Juno.

Swallowing his discomfort, he trailed after Umbrius to the altar and tapped his shoulder.

Umbrius did a double take. ‘You again. What is it? No more talk of funding now.’

‘N-no. Julia told me to help you, if permissible.’

Umbrius grunted. ‘About time she took an interest in the temple. Very well. You may hold the cage. Celsinus, pass it over.’

Celsi had materialised from nowhere, clutching a wicker trap holding a deeply unhappy raven. At Umbrius’s command, Celsi’s face screwed up. Loren could tell he wanted to argue. Or cry. Or strangle the bird.

‘That isn’t necessary,’ Loren protested, but Umbrius gestured again, and Celsi shoved the cage into Loren’s arms. He stomped off, little sandals slapping against stone.

The raven cawed, beady eyes glittering, and Loren fought back an uneasy twist.

‘Father Jupiter,’ Umbrius rumbled. His words blanketed the assembly with a hush. ‘As we offered food, wine and bloodshed, let us now reveal your gracious will.’

He carried on, rattling demands: prosperity for the city, a respite from the heat, the earth to cease its quivering, the helmet to reappear, its thief to meet swift justice. On and on through Pompeii’s many problems. At its end, Umbrius issued a cue, and Loren fiddled the cage’s latch.

When the ground lurched, it was almost unsurprising.

Almost. Startled, Loren dropped the cage, and its door sprang free. The spooked raven soared for the ceiling. Umbrius stared, stunned. Then the earth rolled again, and any scolding he intended to lay upon Loren for his fumble lost its urgency.

Nervous chatter erupted as men abandoned their piety, stumbling for shelter or gripping another’s arms for stability. Stone rumbled, tiles splintering. A crack cleaved marble in two. Torches flickered with thethreat of falling. The statue of Minerva lost her grip on her spear, and it tilted at a precarious angle. Loren stood rooted in place, heart kicking, even as Umbrius fled the altar.

This was normal. This was no different from the quake two days ago. Two weeks ago. Two months.

Across the panicked room, Loren locked eyes with Felix’s.

Even disguised in a bulky palla and scarf, there was no mistaking Felix’s storm-cloud stare. He leaned against the back wall of the temple, partially hidden by a column. The lines of his face were rigid. Hollow. In the half shadow, juxtaposed with white marble, nearly ghostly.

What had Nonna said about the helmet thief?Dream-walker. Plane-crosser.

Closer to the dead than the living.

Loren’s stomach hit the floor.

Nearly smacking into Celsi, who’d picked that moment to dart across the room, Loren beelined over unstable ground, trepidation spiking. If something had happened . . .

He herded Felix around the far side of the column.

‘Where is it?’ Loren hissed, searching Felix up and down, as though the helmet might be hidden beneath the drape of his shawl. ‘What did you do?’

‘What?’ Felix spluttered. ‘Nothing – I didn’t . . .’

Rationality snapped back into place, quickly as the earth settled underfoot. Of course Felix wouldn’t have the helmet. He valued his skin too much to parade around with it, he’d said as much. Loren simmered down, though his insides still quivered like an aftershock. Amidst it all, relief spread. Relief that Felix was here. Was stillFelix. Loren’s hungry eyes devoured him in the fresh light, cheeks a human hue, mouth softly sceptical. No ghosts here.

They stood awfully close. Heat rolled off Felix. With a flush, Loren recalled the near-press from his dream last night, the space betweentheir bodies a mere fraction. How badly he’d wanted to bridge that gap. How he still did, even awake.

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