Page 26 of Heartflame

“That’s okay,” I said softly. “It was a scary situation.”

“Yeah…” His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper. “I felt them notice me. It was like... like something was looking at me, and I knew if I didn’t move, something bad was going to happen.”

My hands clenched into fists. The thought of those things targeting him… it made my blood boil. “They didn’t get to you.”

“No,” he agreed. “You got to me first.”

There was something in the way he said it that made my pulse quicken. Not quite gratitude, but something close. Something softer than his usual defensive tone. I wanted to push, to take advantage of this moment when his walls were down, but I held back. For once, I was going to play this smart.

“We should probably talk about what happens now,” I said instead. “My grandfather wants us to keep this quiet, but⁠—”

“But that’s weird,” Quill finished. “Why would the head of the Elder Council want a ward breach kept secret? Don’t people deserve to know what’s going on?”

“You know how people are,” I sighed. “They panic, they get scared, and they do irrational things. My grandfather wants to stop that from happening. He’s trying to lead the entire paranormal world right now and sometimes that means keeping certain things quiet.”

“I guess I didn’t grow up in a household full of secrets like you did then.” There was a bitter edge to Quill’s voice now. “I’m sure he has his reasons. But I still think people deserve to know.”

“Your parents never kept secrets from you?” I scoffed, unable to help myself.

“Nope,” Quill huffed back. “Especially not after I started going through the business ledgers at the age of ten.”

I laughed, a real laugh that caught me off guard. “Ten? Damn, Red. That’s—that’s actually kind of impressive.”

“My parents run a potion making business,” he said, and I could hear the shrug in his voice. “They told me that we couldn’t afford some expensive toy I wanted and wouldn’t tell me why. So I went looking. I went through all the books looking for the money.” He paused for a moment. “Needless to say, I didn’t get the toy. But I did get a job.”

“So you grew up knowing exactly what was going on,” I mused, turning this new information over in my head.

“Exactly,” Quill said. “Which is why all this cloak-and-dagger bullshit with your grandfather, and everyone else who's trying to keep it all a secret, bothers me. People should know what’s threatening them. Instead, all the people I know here are pointing fingers at each other behind their backs. If someone didn’t come back to school, suddenly everyone thinks they’re Purity Front. It’s stupid and counterproductive.”

I wanted to argue, wanted to defend my family’s way of doing things, but something stopped me. Maybe it was a sense of duty to remain neutral and not create more animosity toward my grandfather, or maybe it was just that Quill was finally talking to me like I was a person instead of an annoyance. Either way, I found myself asking a question instead of defending.

“What was it like? Growing up like that?”

There was a long pause. I could practically feel him deciding whether to answer, whether to open up even this much.

“Boring mostly,” he finally said, and there was something almost fond in his tone. “And stressful. My parents are good people. They work hard. But we were… we are poor because they refuse to innovate.”

“Is that why you’re so serious about classes?”

He didn’t answer. But that was answer enough.

“Tell me something,” I said into the darkness, taking a risk. “Something real. Something you don’t tell other people.”

“Why?”

I just chuckled. “What the hell else are we going to do?”

He was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer. The rain continued its steady patter against the window, a soothing backdrop to the tension between us.

“I’m scared,” Quill finally admitted, his voice barely audible. “All the time. That I’m not going to be good enough. That I’m going to let my parents down, or that I’ll screw up the business, or that I’m wasting my time here at Widdershins when I should be helping them instead.”

My heart skipped a beat. This carefully controlled, fiercely independent guy sitting in the dark with me was afraid. Just like everyone else. And what’s more, he was actually being honest with me for once.

“You’re not going to screw it up,” I said quietly.

“You don’t know that,” he shot back, but there was no bite to it.

“No,” I agreed. “But I know you. And I know you’re too smart and you care too much about getting things right to let it fall apart.”