1 Chapter 1

9:00 A.M., December 24

Six minutes to eternity

LAX was a city within a larger city, and today, Christmas Eve, it was alive with people bustling from one end to the other. Travelers on their way home or to grandmas or leaving on that vacation they’d planned and saved for.

Trudging to the employee area of the airline he worked for, pulling his suitcase, Liam Dever fingered one of the two small figurines—a sigillaria—nestled in his pants pocket. This one was terracotta; the other was pottery. Race—short for Horace, and Liam still pictured the way Race wrinkled his nose when Liam said his whole name—had given him the gifts on the previous day. Those who celebrated Christmas would give loved ones presents tomorrow, or possibly tonight. Liam was pagan; his gift exchange day had been yesterday. Normally he’d have had no one to celebrate Saturnalia with, and more often than not, he worked this week.

Liam was still working this week, but the twenty-nine-hour layover in LA made this year special. Along with the sigillaria was a small card with Race’s phone number and a promise their day-long fling would become so much more. Liam had doubts, but nonetheless, he’d had some of the best hours of his life here, with Race.

Today he was flying out, Hawaii then Japan, before returning to Los Angeles and three weeks downtime before his next assignment. Wasn’t it just his luck to finally meet a man who was not only pagan but shared a mutual attraction with Liam, only to have to fly out so quickly? Such was the life of a flight attendant. Nodding to a few other flight-crew members, Liam took his place in line and pulled out his ID. Leaning on the suitcase handle, he glanced around the concourse, not really paying attention to the many people walking briskly on their way to catch flights to anywhere in the world.

Liam had another layover in Hawaii, but he’d be calling Race often and was already planning the phone sex.

A low rumble came from somewhere farther along the main terminal. A pilot in line next to Liam frowned and muttered, “What the hell was that?”

“Earthquake?” someone else suggested.

In the next instant, explosions sounded, breaking glass flew like shrapnel, and screams filled the air. Liam turned in time to see a bright flash. He was thrown back against a row of chairs by some unseen enormous weight. Large shards of glass impaled him, and he stared, fascinated, at the dark spot spreading out from his chest to meet another one inching up from his stomach. Liam tried to brush it away.

Sirens and shouting assaulted Liam from all directions, but it was all getting farther and farther away. Race’s face, the twinkle in his eyes and the blush on his cheeks, flashed through Liam’s mind.

Then everything went dark.

* * * *

4:00 A.M., December 23

Twenty-nine hours to eternity

Race wandered along the terminal, gazing into shops through long, straight bar barriers before he made his way to a glass wall. He stretched and watched a plane taxi to the hangar. This airport, this plane. For some reason he’d been drawn to this spot to celebrate his holiday.

He yawned and went to a nearby coffee shop, where he could sit with a mug of his favorite warm, sweet drink and watch the people who disembarked. Passengers filtered into the terminal. A family walked by—two women, each carrying a small, sleepy child.

As they passed Race, one adorable little girl watched him, then said to the woman carrying her, “Mommy, that man looks like Santa.”

Race winked at her. His beard was dark brown and curly, not white, but his face was round, his cheeks filled out and rosy. He’d been told he had a perpetual twinkle to his eyes, and he might be carrying a few extra pounds around his girth. It wasn’t the first time he’d been compared to that particular modern-day childhood myth.

Eventually the passengers thinned out, dispersing to wherever their journey was taking them. Race ordered another cup of coffee and bought a cherry turnover to go with it. He didn’t have long to wait until the flight crew left the plane, pulling suitcases behind them and looking pretty beat.

One young man—about Race’s height, but thinner, clean shaven, and with straight, light brown, stylish hair piqued Race’s attention. Man or woman, it didn’t much matter to Race. It was the soul within that attracted him and drew him in. At first it seemed as if the man were going to follow the others and disappear into the crowd, but at the last second, he turned and headed to the coffee shop.

At this hour there were plenty of available seats in the shop, but after Race’s young man secured his order, he chose a place near Race. He set his drink and fruit cup on the table and sat heavily in the chair, then leaned back and sighed deeply. Race used the back of a hand to casually shove the sugar container on his table out of sight behind a rack that held menus upright.