Pyro

Chapter 18

Home.

I stood in front of my "home", emotionless.

Not thoughtless, however, because I was thinking about how nice it'd be if a tornado could yank me anywhere but here, and maybe drop my house on Proditio, too. Or, I could ask Zoe-who walked in tandem with me, marveling at my pompous, meticulously-cared for estate-for her high heels, click them three times, and find myself someplace I didn't despise.

I wasn't sure if that was worth putting on high heels though.

No, it wasn't.

"We should get going," I said to her, wanting to quicken our pace. The sooner we got in, the sooner we got out. I desperately wanted to avoid seeing anyone I knew.

Although we'd been in New York a week and Wais had incessantly nagged me to reach out to Quinn or my mother, I refused to. In fact, I'd been hesitant to even come back home in the first place, let alone talk to them.

Especially my mother. Thinking about talking to her mortified me. (Imagine that conversation. "Hi mom, I'm back. While I was gone I set a hotel on fire with people still in it, and it even resulted in a death! Oh, and I was technically an accessory to kidnapping the guy that killed Rebecca and I was this close to committing murder, but the guy up and offed himself instead!") I preferred not to deal with that.

Zoe, taking one last look around for good measure, joined me by my side.

Her blonde hair bounced with each step and the crepuscular early-morning rays of sunlight that battled their way through the converging cloud cover hit her hair, giving it an almost... ethereal glow. But her eyes, darker than the gloomy clouds threatening rain, were the star of the show. They reminded me so much of Rebecca's. Every time I looked at Zoe, an image of Rebecca flashed in my mind and I had to avert my gaze.

I detested myself for comparing every aspect of Zoe-her voice, mannerisms, diction, and, most of all, her eyes-to Rebecca. Ruminating on Rebecca brought unwelcome memories that I didn't care to dredge up again: I didn't even have the right to think about Rebecca after failing her.

If that was the case, why did I find her company... welcome?

"Hey, pretty boy, what's up with this place?" she asked, halting my thoughts.

I frowned and tore my gaze off the sidewalk to look at her.

My confusion was probably pretty obvious, because she gestured around us. "The place looks deserted."

I stopped.

She was right.

At first, I chalked it down to the eerie weather. With the clouds actively suppressing sunlight, and not so much as a single blade of grass twitching, along with a thick blanket of mist covering the vivacious landscape, the area seemed cold. Almost... haunted.

It wasn't the weather that chilled. It was the lack of movement.

I hurried my pace.

Did something happen?

We hastily exited the lavish gardens and grew closer to the heart of the estate. Fear was pulsing loudly in my ears, like a never-ending drum beat. Where was the staff? The groundskeepers, maids, servants, and everyone else that maintained the estate?

The mist thinned and the house, a sturdy, unchanged, massive building, solidified before us. Zoe caught sight of the polished, ornate set of stairs leading to the front door and bounded up the steps. The door, complete with grandiloquent carvings of mythical Greek creatures and gods, allowed an equivocal glimpse inside through an opaque glass windowpane. Zoe beat me to it and scrubbed the layer of frost settled on the window, scanning for any lingering maids or servants.