And getting bigger by the second.
A seething cloud of brilliant, glowing gas—orange, baleful yellow, incandescent white in mad, churning patterns—enveloped the mountain. The fiery avalanche ran shrieking down the mountainside, miles wide. It lit up the whole night. The lethal glow split into waves of different speeds, illuminating the doomed town. Herculaneum huddled against the sea like a child's abandoned playset.
Except it wasn't abandoned.
The end had begun.
Charlie discovered he couldn't breathe. Couldn't even move. Fear held him, fear that ran to the core of his genes, like the leftover fears of some cave-dwelling ancestor, echoing down time to take up residence in Charlie's nerve endings. Sibyl had warned him, but not even her dire warning had come close to the reality of that . . . that . . .
God . . .
It smashed down the mountain. Vesuvius throbbed against the blackness. The surge spread over the countryside, churning and discharging lightning through the whole mass. Farms and groves Charlie had passed earlier in the day vanished under it.
Get out, Sibyl, get out of there. . . .
A third wave overtook the slower-moving second. Charlie shut his eyes. No way that's gonna miss town. He couldn't watch, couldn't not watch. The surge raced down the mountain, on a baleful course for the time storm brewing above the beach at Herculaneum.
Whoever had summoned the time portal . . . could they get out before it struck? Was this ship far enough away not to get caught in the blast? Numb, battered, Charlie hugged his child close and watched the fiery surge roll down the flanks of Vesuvius. It smashed across the town. Phillipa's hoarse cry reached his ears. She pointed wordlessly. An odd darkness had split the surge, widening even as they watched.
A time hole, draining it off? My God, whoever went through, that surge blasted right through with them. Charlie felt sick, more helpless than he had the night they'd gunned down his grandfather right in front of him, more helpless than when Bericus had held him down. . . .
Sibyl was dying, he was watching her death, and there was nothing he could do. Grief choked him, but the volcanic surge didn't let him grieve long. The rest of the seething, glowing gas belched out across the sea, right toward their fleeing boat.
Charlie clutched the gunwale, sucked in air against the constricting pain in his chest. It's going to catch