Pyro

Chapter 37

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Wais asked, trailing beside me. Miranda and Mr. Cal strode with us, straggling a few feet behind, immersed in hushed debate while simultaneously steering Hui to follow us. Pity clutched my heart as the crowd smothered Hui, whose lips shivered as though on the verge of tears.

Or maybe she was just terrified we were blindly headed straight for Proditio. Either one.

Elbowing through throngs of people, I shrugged. "No choice, right? Miranda and Cal can try to devise whatever alternative they want, but you and I both know-"

"There's no choice," Wais finished. A group of giggling women barreled past, leaving acrid perfume in their wake and separating us; when we reconvened, silence gnawed the cool air. Droplets of rain pelted us: Frigid rivulets snaked down my back, and I sighed, gazing ahead.

"When it comes to Cal's predictions with Proditio, he said it himself. He has trouble reading the future. That means it can still be changed."

Wais frowned and stroked his chin as if just putting the pieces together, comprehending the motives behind my actions. His eyes widened. "So you think if you meet her and get killed before Parker and Zoe, that'll change the prediction?"

Precisely, I thought. Outwardly, I shrugged.

The exchange's location loomed ahead with the deadline shadowing our movements. Not enough time to concoct a plan, with just enough to reach the designated location.

The illumination provided by withered streetlights briefly irradiated us, but soon enough, darkness engulfed us once more, bringing the morose heaving of my stomach. The farther we walked, the closer we drew to the meeting spot.

Closer to my death.

Wais's pale, attenuated fingers clasped my shoulder. "Thank you, Henry."

I gawked at Wais, really absorbing him: A veneer of water laminated his dirty blonde hair, and his clothes were battered. Defeat slumped his shoulders, but most of all, his eyes were dimmed to a rusty red. Devoid of life.

If it was possible, he dreaded this more than me. Watching one of us-me-trade our lives...

"Don't thank me," I muttered, pushing his hand away, a lump forming in my throat. "No other choice, right? It's either me, or them."

"I'm sorry for ever bringing you into this."

I faltered, then scowled. I half wanted to pummel the bastard. Yeah, it was his fault. If it weren't for him, I'd be lounging in bed right now, staring at the TV, my ears spared of the howls of my victims.

But if it weren't for him, I'd be enduring my father. I would've sulked in my haunted house, ruminating the deaths of Rebecca and Garret. I wouldn't have met everyone and formed the bonds I cherished: I wouldn't have moved past Rebecca's death.

I only hoped... after exchanging myself for Zoe, Kaz, Parker, and the bodies, everyone could live their life the opposite of mine, and that the sacrifice of my soul wasn't for nothing.

We stopped at the designated exchange: an office building.

The office building shot in the air and the glass windows reflected the bustling city below. The burnished building, save for the silver structural beams and generic company logos, was nondescript, nestled between countless other identical structures. The cover provided by neighboring buildings benefited Proditio, and the offices boasted darkness and emptiness: in other words, the perfect place to conduct 'business'-undetected.

Miranda, Mr. Cal, and Hui caught up, apprehensive. Miranda lifted her dainty wrist and squinted at her watch. "Two minutes," she said. A slow inflection shattered her monotonous voice, and, almost desperately, she pleaded, "Henry, giving yourself to Proditio will not stop her from killing us, or chasing us down. Just explain why she desires you as opposed to the rest of us. It must be of pertinence if she is going to such drastic measures to silence you, and only you."