Page 9 of Vesuvius

‘Half of which are dry.’ Loren didn’t turn. ‘Last time I petitioned the council to fund repairs, I was escorted out. And asked not to return.’

Fabric rustled against stone as Aurelia slipped from her perch on one of the hundreds of above-ground tombs lining the road. She picked a late-season poppy as she crunched closer. Circles hung low under her eyes, far too dark for a girl of only twelve. Aurelia was the same age Loren had been when he’d fled his family’s villa, but she always struck him as older. Mature wasn’t the right word for it. Removed from her time, more like. At least, when she wasn’t throwing pebbles at him or picking fights with those twice her size.

‘Couldn’t sleep?’ Loren asked, dreading the answer.

‘I came to visit Pappa. He never liked hearing about my nightmares, but he listens now.’ Aurelia’s nose wrinkled. ‘Besides, I knew to find you here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Saw it.’

His stomach sank. ‘Aurelia.’

‘Not like that. I saw you leave the temple, then stop with Nonna. I raced you.’ She grinned, a wild thing, showing off her missing front tooth. ‘I won.’

‘You can’t win against someone who didn’t know they were playing.’

‘Spoken like the loser of a race. What’s the real reason you’re out here?’

Loren closed his eyes against the glaring sun cresting over Vesuvius’s flank, schooling his features. The champion of half-truths, he said, ‘I needed fresh air.’

‘Something else is the matter.’ She flopped into the grass, stripping her poppy of its petals. Dark curls curtained her face. ‘But fine. Don’t tell me. I’ll work it out. I always do.’

He couldn’t help the fond tug of his mouth. It died quickly.

A familiar ache panged his gut. Often he wished he could lay their dreams side by side, examine them, see where they matched and where they differed. He didn’t know which would be worse – confirmation they saw the same end, or that her horrors were ones he hadn’t yet seen.

Aurelia knew of their shared plight. It was what drew them together, close as brother and sister. But it was his responsibility not to worsen her burden by telling her what he saw. Not when most visions involved her death. Not until he found a solution.

Loren knew it shouldn’t be this way. Visions were meant to be tools of change, and the stories he read proved ill fates befell those who didn’t heed oracles. But in the eyes of society, he and Aurelia were children. Nobody believed children. Especially not children who were right. The unfairness stung like a wet slap. The thief’s arrival brought Loren the closest he’d come to fathoming his dreams, yet he felt further behind than ever.

Black wave. Copper streak.

At the centre of the storm, the ghost.

Abstract, burning visions that gained clarity with each passing night. The clearer his dreams became, the closer the danger loomed. When the final details distilled, would the end begin?

A bee landed on the back of Aurelia’s hand, and she giggled. The sound bruised Loren’s heart, and the dregs of his frustration flamed. He’d solve this mystery for her. He would save Pompeii. He would make these nightmares mean something, and he wouldn’t let the ghost scare him from the answers.

But first . ..

‘Shift over.’ Loren nudged her to make space in the grass. ‘I’ll braid your hair.’

Aurelia lit up. ‘Do the twisty thing. Mamma thinks it’s pretty.’

One last moment before all turned to ruin. He could braid Aurelia’s hair to match his own, and she could chatter about nothing and everything. Back at the temple, the others could wonder why he took so long, and the copper-haired ghost – the clever-jawed thief – could wait in exchange for haunting Loren all these years. The mountain could cast shadows against the daylight, and for a moment, he could forget about his dreams.

For now, Loren had this.

Chapter III

FELIX

Felix woke to a sharp headache, an acrid tongue and a weight on his chest.

He knew the reason for the first, and he smacked his lips a few times to place the taste of the second. The third took his throbbing skull a moment, but he found the answer inches from his nose, where two yellow eyes glinted back.

‘Piss off, cat,’ Felix said. Tried to say. He wriggled, but the cat stayed put. Damn thing was heavier than a cat had any right to be. Gods, his head hurt.

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