The culmination of a life rarely comes with a countdown. Life surges. It ebbs and flows, and at some point—spontaneous, unforeseen—it snaps to its end. Will that end be heroic, stalwart and inspiring, pointing the way to other things? Will it be couched in cowardice? Or will it simply be silent, meaningless and unremarkable, fading into a darkness from which there is no retreat or return?
In an instant, Alexander knew his own life’s culmination was to be different. It would not come as a mystery, sneaking up on him unawares.
It would happen—it was happening—now.
So much doubt and despair had filled the forty-four years of his life. So much despondency. So much loss. Yet there had also been joy. There had been times of peace. He had experienced happiness. And though he’d lost it, he’d once known faith. And love. Perhaps the greatest tragedy, here in this instant, was the awareness that he was only beginning to know both of those again. Two impossibilities, becoming possible.
But there would be no more. His life was to end here. His memories would be firmly locked, and then they would disappear. All the potential for the future would vanish. His life would be frozen, forever after the sum of the choices he’d made. Of the deeds he’d done, and those he’d left undone.
Including what he chose to do right now.
He turned back toward the device, which suddenly looked strangely peaceful beneath Beatrice Pinard’s cold hand. Its timer was still counting down.
00:00:09
Father Taylor Abbate, the deluded new prophet of his illegitimate, backward group, would have his revenge after all. His hatred would triumph. Whether he was pulled to safety or died in the blast, whether the other surviving members of the Fraternity led it to a new life or not, the remainder of Abbate’s life would be lived satisfied, content that he had justly repaid the man who had betrayed him.
00:00:08
Alexander reached forward, drawing the wires into his fingers. They seemed so ordinary. So fragile. He knew that if he pulled out the wrong one, the bomb was almost certain to go off.
00:00:07
But he also knew that if the countdown was allowed to reach zero, it would go off all the same. The colossal goddess towering over him would shatter in a blast that would tear apart the ancient buildings, killing untold scores of staff, onlookers, officers.
00:00:06
There was no way he could clear the site in time to avoid the blast. Escape, however enticing, simply wasn’t an option.
00:00:05
Suddenly Alexander’s mind was filled with more memories than his consciousness could bear. But unlike those of his dream, these were crystal clear, and his heart knew why he was experiencing them.
Into his vision burst the face of a woman. Not the drained face of Pinard. Not the stony visage of the goddess. It was the face of Gabriella Fierro, with her every precious, wonderful feature. Her porcelain skin. Her elegant cheekbones. Her dark eyes.
00:00:04
He saw the smile she had given him as those eyes had opened when he’d thought they would never open again. He’d believed her dead, but he’d been proven wrong. He saw her lips quiver as they took in breath. He felt the strongest urge to pull them to his own.
00:00:03
He saw the laughter in her face as they’d had dinner together a few nights before. A romantic interlude in his troubled evenings. She had sparkled.
00:00:02
He saw her seated in her favorite pew in the shimmering light of Santa Maria in Trastevere. He saw her love. He saw her faith. He saw the certainty she bore, somewhere deep within, that good is a greater power than evil. That light ultimately wins out over darkness.
00:00:01
Alexander looked down at the bomb, his fingers still clutched around the clump of wires. He fixed the face of his love in his mind. He said a prayer.
And he pulled.
00:00:00