Page 14 of Those That Are Lost
“He’s not at mine?” I reply, my voice barely audible so we won’t be overheard. They were both there when I left for my shift.
“No, he took off after you left, and I’ve just come from there. I’d half assumed he was here.” Henry types a few more words before looking at me. I search his expressionless face, finding him very hard to read.
“He wouldn’t have left, would he?” Not that I could really blame him but panic floods me that he might.
“Aur…” Henry starts to say my actual name but thankfully stops as he sees my eyes widen in warning. “Shit, sorry. Should’ve thought.” He gestures for me to sit as he closes the lid on the laptop. I slide into the bench seat opposite him. “He won’t be far.”
Exhaling the breath I’dbeen holding, I tell him, “It’s Izzy. My name.”
He gives me a look I can’t decipher but I want to guess it’s amusement.Weird.
“Nice to meet you, Izzy.” He holds out a hand to shake. It feels like a gesture of a clean slate. Our meeting last night was hardly the best first impression. For either of us.
I take his hand, shaking it firmly.
“It’s good to meet you too. I’m sorry about last night. My track record so far isn’t great when it comes to…” I trail off but lift my top lip, swiping my tongue across my canine so he’ll know I mean vampires.
“Well then, I’ll try my best to change that.” He offers me a small laugh. “We really aren’t all giant cunts.”
I find myself returning the laugh.
“Have you been coping?” The switch to serious kills my moment of light-heartedness. “I know how tough it can be. I pretty much did it alone in the beginning too.” The concern in his eyes isn’t pity but empathy. I think he might be genuinely a good person.
My eyes flick around the tavern, the crochet group are chatting animatedly, and the few other small groups aren’t sitting close by. Still, I keep my voice low so we aren’t overheard. “I’m still alive and I’m not starving, if you call that coping,” I reply honestly.
“I hope our appearance was a welcome one. It’s not really my place, but I’ve never seen Ty so worked up before. And I’ve been on battlefields with him.” He drops that fact in so casually, like that’s not a revelation. “He was so desperate to get to you. I get you might need time but please give him a chance, allow him back into your life.”
Henry reaches across the table to where my arms are folded in front of me, resting on the surface. He gives my arm a gentle squeeze in a touch that feels like he’s trying to soften his words. I see them for what they are though; he’s protecting his friend, asking me to not break Ty’s heart.
“I don’t want to hurt him.” A raw feeling follows the words up my throat.
Henry cocks his head slightly, as if assessing me. After a beat, he nods slowly. Hopefully, that means he accepts my answer.
“I can be here for you too, if you want to talk,” he offers. “But I think we’ve done enough talking about the heavy stuff for today. What’s good to drink here? Do you serve real coffee?”
The smile returns to my lips. I realise Henry is very perceptive. Why is it that both of these males can seem to read straight through me? The switch in subject helps me shove the feelings that were threatening to surface back down.
“I can vouch for the coffee, although I’m no expert. It is freshly ground.”
“Excellent, I’m going to need some to finish this.” He taps his fingers on the closed laptop lid.
“What are you working on? If you don’t mind me asking.” I have to admit to being curious.
“I’m trying to finish an article that the West Scotia University wants me to publish. Honestly, I regret saying yes, but they want me to write a counter argument against a load of bollocks that was published in the last issue.”
“You’re a scholar?” My interest is even more piqued now. “What subject?”
“Oh yes, Ty mentioned you were a history student. I fancy myself more of a sociologist but have written quite a bit under the historical branch. You might recognise my pen name, H J Fitzroy.’
My jaw drops.
“You’re H J Fitzroy?” I stutter after blinking several times.
“You have heard of me then.” His eyes crinkle with amusement.
“Heard of you? It was your work that formed the basis ofmy thesis. You’re brilliant.” I feel my cheeks heat as I stare at him in wonder. His works are some of the most progressive in altering the narrative around the Cleansing Wars; the war that sent the vampires into near extinction, the one responsible for the world thinking we no longer existed.
“Thank you, I rarely get to meet those that read my work. Comes with having to keep my identity anonymous. I’d like to read what you investigated sometime.”
