Page 92 of Vesuvius

Felix had stopped Loren’s slide, held him, was still holding him.

‘Oh,’ Loren gasped. He twisted to touch Felix’s cheek, skin so much hotter than the ghost’s that it stung the pads of his fingers. ‘You’re still here.’

Felix shot him a funny look. Annoyed, yes, but fond, maybe, too. He brushed sweat-damp copper curls off his forehead, and when his hand lowered, it paused against Loren’s. ‘Where else would I be?’

‘Felix,’ Loren breathed, canting forwards until their foreheads pressed together. Heady heat rolled through his body, a sweet bloom of warmth that saidhereandyesandstay.Forget the sticky mountain and the ghost who stared with such fervent hate. This was Loren’s Felix. Felix who’d followed him up here. Felix who’d kissed him back in the quiet temple.

‘We need to go,’ Felix said. ‘I can’t breathe in these fumes.’

‘I’m having an epiphany.’

‘Now? Can’t it wait?’

Loren shut his eyes, lingering in the moment.A crossroads, Ghost-Felix had hissed. Maybe he was beginning to understand. Either he told Felix to put the helmet on, learn his memories at the risk of him turning cruel as his murdering, phantom counterpart and using the helmet’s power to destroy the city, or Loren lied to protect Pompeii – and lost Felix anyway when he left the helmet behind tomorrow. The choice dangled, but neither option tempted.

Night after night, his visions had dictated his actions. Here was his turn to reclaim control.

The helmet, cast against black rocks, struck a more sinister figure than ever. Ghost-FelixwantedFelix to put it on. Wanted to merge. But Felix was holding Loren as if he alone mattered. Perhaps there was a different end to this story, after all. A kinder end. One where Felix picked Loren over any shiny helmet. One that kept them together. One that protected Felix from the truth.

This was Loren’s crossroads. Whatever set him on this path had meant for it to end here, with him turning to find that someone had chosen him, too.

Relief sank slowly into his bones. Ghost-Felix had made one thing clear: Lorencouldchange the outcome of his visions. He had a choice. So long as he chose not to tell Felix about the helmet, its power would stay dormant, and they – and the city – would be safe.

‘If I said I could see the future,’ Loren said, words a shaky gust against Felix’s mouth, ‘how would you respond? Would you call me mad?’

‘I’d say you dragged me up here to tell me what I already knew.’ Their noses brushed. ‘You aren’t mad, Loren. Strange. Brilliant. But not mad.’

‘I thought you didn’t believe in magic.’

‘I don’t,’ said Felix. ‘But I believe you.’

He withdrew and stood. Gravel tumbled loose as he picked his way to collect the helmet. On the return trip, he paused, offering his hand. Loren blinked, brain turned to mush.

‘Let’s go home,’ Felix said.

It sounded like a promise.

Chapter XXI

FELIX

Descending the mountain proved far easier than the journey up, and the sun hung low when Felix and Loren joined a stream at its base. Every inch of Felix’s skin itched, sweat and dust and dirt caked thick. A quick plunge would do wonders. He made to kick his sandals off and jump in, tunic and all, but Loren pulled him back.

‘Not here,’ Loren said. ‘These streams have been sour for months.’

‘I’m already sour.’ Felix tugged his neckline, and dust puffed. ‘I smell like an egg gone off.’

‘A little road dust won’t break you. Come on, I know a place.’

He led Felix further downstream, through a rich grove of olive trees, limbs bursting with fruit begging for harvest. Shade shielded them from the relentless evening heat. At a point, Loren stretched back a hand. A mindless gesture on Loren’s part, but one Felix hadn’t dared consider. When he accepted it, their fingers tangling, warmth that had nothing to do with the weather settled deep in his belly.

The grove opened, and the sea spread before them.

Beneath the setting sun, the water glistened yellow and orange, fire licking the surface. Felix sucked in a breath. Brine filled his lungs, driving out Vesuvius’s stench. Low waves foamed and sloshed. There was no beach, just a field to the edge of the land, where the bankdropped into waist-deep water. Thick grass thronged the coast, tall and green and lush. In the distance, to the south of this quiet nook, Pompeii glimmered.

‘This is . . .’ Felix said, swallowing. ‘Nice.’

Loren smiled, and Felix had to look away.

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