Pyro

Chapter 21

I chewed my lip and shuffled on my feet.

I stood on Quinn's front porch, taking in his baroque-like house. It was as massive and lavish as I remembered. It was five stories tall, spanned impossibly long, and was adorned with intricately carved gargoyles perched on the edges of the roof. The setting sun colored the sky with deep orange and yellow hues; the unblemished glass window panes reflected the horizon, and I wondered if Quinn was even home. I knew he liked to party and drink all hours of the night.

I hesitantly pressed the doorbell before I could change my mind. When Proditio and I discussed dismantling the Traders, she said her plan would take approximately one year to complete. If I couldn't return for a year-Proditio suggested that after embarking on this goal, I couldn't return home (she didn't give a reason)-I at least wanted to ask Quinn a crucial question.

A moment of waiting awkwardly passed and I instantly regretted my decision. Next week we were going to start our efforts to wipe out the Trader's New York operation: I had to ask Quinn something, but I could get the information somewhere else. I began to turn on my heels when the door swung open, and a man in a prim suit loomed in the doorway.

His eyes brightened when he saw me. "Henry!" Kyle exclaimed.

I tried to smile. "Hey Kyle. Been a while."

Kyle was Quinn's personal butler, so we got to know each other pretty well. He didn't usually answer doors, though.

"Uh, I was just about to leave, so-"

"Kyle! Who's at the door?" Quinn called from somewhere within the house, his cheerful voice bouncing off the walls.

My stomach sunk as Kyle called back, "It's Henry!" dropping his formal tone and relaxing. Around the two of us, he didn't have to act so uptight.

Quinn responded with shocked silence. It took a minute for him to say, "Let him in," followed by footsteps.

Kyle held the door out expectantly, and I cursed myself for being so stupid. Why did I come back here? So stupid! I thought, scolding myself. Dammit, didn't you act like a douche to him so he wouldn't see you anymore?

But at least now I could ask Quinn what'd been nagging the back of my mind.

My feet carried me inside despite my mind screeching in protest, and Kyle shut the door behind us. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. I'm going to bully one of the chefs to give me some of those little cucumber sandwiches," he said to Quinn, who hopped off the last step of a superlative staircase that led to where he'd been on the second floor.

Quinn nodded and Kyle happily meandered towards the kitchens.

Once he was out of earshot, Quinn scowled. "What happened to wanting to escape everything and everyone in New York?"

The biting scorn in his voice, the belligerent clenching of his fists, and livid tinge to his normally ebullient blue eyes was completely unlike himself.

I'd really pissed him off.

I silently congratulated myself. Congratulations, Henry! You managed to push away everyone you cared about. Nice going.

But a small part of me couldn't help but feel... relieved. By pushing him away, he was safe from me. From the misery that seemed to befall everyone in my life. From the misery that consumed Rebecca.

I combed back my hair with one hand, and shoved my burned one into my pocket. I winced, but said, "I needed to ask you something."

Quinn narrowed his brows. "So after you set that hotel on fire and killed someone and told me off, you're here to cash in a favor?"