Page 18

T he winter sun stabbed through a gap in the curtains, forcing me awake. My mouth tasted of stale coffee and regret – I must have fallen asleep on the sofa waiting for Tom, the old velvet crushed against my cheek. My neck and back ached horribly as I sat up, listening to the sounds of the house. I could tell immediately from the absolute silence that Tom had never returned – not that I’d really expected him to. Joints popped left, right and centre as I stretched, and I decided a long run might be just the thing to help me wake up. Bounding upstairs, I pulled on the running tights and trainers that had gone untouched for weeks at the bottom of my wardrobe, scraping my hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of my face.

It was freezing outside, my breath clouding in front of me as I ran. Sheffield’s hills showed no mercy, but at least the exercise warmed me up. Between gasping breaths, my mind kept circling back to Tom. He couldn’t have fully recovered yet, and the thought of him alone and in pain twisted something in my chest. My phone weighed heavy in my pocket, but I knew he wouldn’t answer if I called. It was better to throw myself into work instead – at least then I’d be doing something useful while avoiding thoughts of our argument.

The scalding shower afterward didn’t wash away my guilt any more than the run had, but at least it worked some unknown magic on my knotted muscles. Steam fogged the mirror as I braided my hair, the familiar motions soothing. My reflection was almost normal now, bruises fading to yellow shadows. After a futile attempt to channel Isabel’s ethereal beauty with my limited wardrobe, I gave up and settled for dark jeans, a black shirt and my customary Doc Martens. I was suitable enough for human interaction, anyway.

Jolt’s door stuck in the morning frost, and I had to push my shoulder against it just to get it open. Inside, the stale air hit me first, then the sight of tables still cluttered with cups from two days ago. Envelopes lay scattered on the doormat, jamming the door further – probably applications for the manager position. Yet another reminder of how badly we needed help. I started a mental inventory of everything that needed doing, each task multiplying as I looked around. If we kept up this sporadic opening schedule much longer, we’d lose even our regulars – and we couldn’t afford to do that.

Before I forgot altogether, I scribbled a note reminding myself to call my parents as soon as I had a spare minute, and stuck it where I wouldn’t miss it: in the middle of the table in the back room. One more worry for the pile.

I’d finished mopping the floors and made a start on unpacking the pastries when the bell over the door jangled cheerily, and Adam walked in, bringing a blast of frosty air with him. I didn’t comment as he took off his coat and threw it over the back of a chair as though he owned the place. His simple grey jeans and pale blue shirt were unremarkable – even casual, with the sleeves rolled up – and yet he looked like a bloody supermodel.

These fucking people , I thought. My confidence took a hit just looking at him, and he knew it, too. I rolled my eyes at him, and he grinned like a self-satisfied cat as he made his way over.

“Good morning to you too,” he said, folding his arms and leaning his long legs against the counter. He surveyed the mess around the coffee machine and sink. “I dare say you could use some assistance?”

I made a point of looking him up and down. “Adam, do you even know how to work?” I asked.

He shrugged, examining his spotless fingernails. “I have nothing else to do with my day. The trials of cohabiting with vampires,” he sighed in mock sadness. “Their schedule is rather inconvenient – a nightmare, as you young people say.”

“Us young people?” I laughed. “Alright. Grab an apron. I wouldn’t want you to get your pretty shirt dirty.”

Adam helped me to rearrange the bookshelves, handling each book with careful precision, his long fingers tracing spines as if reading secrets there. The radio filled the comfortable silence between us, though I caught him wrinkling his nose at plenty of songs. By unspoken agreement, neither of us mentioned the events of the previous night. But as we worked, my curiosity grew, and eventually I had to ask the question I’d been desperate to know the answer to for weeks.

“I don’t mean to be rude…” I started.

Adam put down the duster he was holding as he fixed me with a look. “I’ve learned that whenever someone starts a sentence in such a manner, it ends up being… shall we say, a personal question or comment?”

I shrugged in apology. “You’re not a vampire, right?” I indicated the blazing sunshine streaming in through the windows and reflecting off his near-white hair.

“No,” he grinned and resumed his meticulous dusting. “I am merely… old.”

“How old?” I asked, trying to sound casual as I arranged teetering piles of cups and saucers.

He straightened before answering. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to ask such things?” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Old enough.”

“So… you’re immortal?” I might be pushing my luck, but I was too curious to take the hint. “What does that make you? What are you?”

He made a noncommittal gesture, turning back to the shelves. “Who knows? I have never been gravely injured – perhaps I could still die. I have no wish to test the theory.”

“How’ve you managed that one? That’s a long time to avoid accidents,” I said, frowning at his back.

“It’s enough to know I heal at a normal rate. In that way, I’m as cautious as you are.” He cast me a knowing look over his shoulder. “Perhaps more so. But I haven’t aged a day since… 1897. Or thereabouts. ”

I whistled under my breath. He paused in his work, the duster dancing between his fingers.

“You’re surprised?” he asked mildly.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I know Nicholas and Isabel have still got years on you, but I wasn’t expecting…” The implications of his age caught up with me.

He grinned mischievously, flashing his straight white teeth. “Feeling young and na?ve, Erin?”

I stuck my tongue out at him, laughing.

After that, I’d opened the floor for questions. Adam asked how I’d met Tom and Jonathan, and I explained about our dream for the coffee shop; how we’d almost gone bankrupt when we were starting out, but Jon had held us all together.

“Do you miss him?” Adam asked as we ate lunch in the back room.

“Jonathan?” A hard knot formed in my throat. I forced myself to swallow. “Yes,” I nodded, mostly to myself. “Yes. I miss him.”

I picked at the crust of my sandwich, buying time. “At first, he was constantly on my mind. But there’s been so much going on… I suppose I got distracted. He’s just… part of me, now.” A laugh escaped. “I mean, we used to argue constantly – and it’s strange, but it’s one of the things I miss the most. The debates. He’d always keep pushing until I knew exactly why I believed what I believed.”

My voice softened. “He made me brave enough to be myself, you know? To do what needed doing. But he never let me take the easy way out.” I set down my barely touched food. “ I’m grateful I knew him. I was lucky to have him in my life.”

It was a relief to talk about him so freely, though it brought back the familiar ache in my chest. The café felt emptier now, in the spaces where he should’ve been. No more whistling as he burst through the door, vibrating with enthusiasm over some new idea. No more disagreements about what counted as art. No more barging in on my painting with urgent songs I had to hear right this second.

He was just… gone. And his last gift to me had been the mystery of his death – it had kept me too busy to drown in grief. He’d probably have appreciated the irony, anyway.

Adam contemplated that. I took a huge bite of my sandwich so I could look away.

“I met him once,” he said softly. “Jonathan.”

“What?” I swallowed hastily.

“You were there, too, if I recall, though we never spoke.” He gathered our plates and carried them over to the small sink. “I hadn’t known your friend and Nick’s Jonathan were one and the same… Nick never met him.”

“When was this?” I sifted through my memories fruitlessly, but if I’d met someone like Adam, I knew I’d remember.

“Oh, years ago,” he waved a dismissive hand. “You were still studying. I was checking up on him – the first and the last time, unfortunately.” A small frown creased his forehead. “I only remembered before – Nick’s relatives tend to blur together when you’ve met so many of them. And damn it if they don’t all look alike.”

“Nicholas was there?” I went still, and something clenched in my chest. I couldn’t help but think I’d have sensed him. Don’t be such an idiot.

“No, no.” Adam’s lips quirked as he returned to his seat. “He usually keeps track of them himself, but on this particular occasion, he had asked me for a favour. I only spoke to Jonathan briefly, of course. He had no idea who I was. I believe we discussed local breweries or some such. Something terribly mundane.”

I smiled to myself. Jon had convinced himself for a while that the best way to bring art, music and literature together in one place would be to run a bar – Tom and I talked him out of the idea, insisting drunk people didn’t want to read.

“He did look rather like Nick, though,” Adam continued. “Not quite as handsome, but there was more than the usual resemblance. In the expressiveness, mainly. I suppose you’ve noticed?”

I avoided his eye and went over to the sink. “Yeah.”

“Does that make it difficult for you?” he asked sombrely.

I rinsed the plates under the tap. “Does it make what difficult, exactly?”

“Loving him.” Adam’s tone was perfectly innocent, but he was more interested in my answer than he was letting on. Did Nicholas put him up to this?

I waited before replying, my hands gripping the edge of the porcelain for support. I gazed blankly at the sky-blue walls.

“Adam… I don’t know how I feel about Nicholas. I’ve only met him a handful of times.”

And I feel like I’ve known him forever . Urgh. It was all so… irrational.

Behind me, Adam sighed. “I’ve been friends with Nick for almost as long as I’ve been alive. I’ve travelled with him all over the world.” I turned to face him. “But it wasn’t until yesterday, when I saw you together—” he paused. “The way he looks at you… I finally understood what it was he’d been doing all these years, searching.”

It was almost what Nicholas had said himself, on the hilltop and again at the manor last night. And Adam seemed so sincere when he said it. But he knew as well as I did that Nicholas had met plenty of women just like me.

“He’s a vampire, Adam.” I bit my lip. “And I barely know him.”

“I’m sorry, but you’re not fooling anyone with that line of argument,” he smiled. “Would you do something for me, please?”

I nodded, curious.

“Try to imagine the frustration Nick has dealt with over the years. He has spent countless decades – lifetimes upon lifetimes – searching determinedly for an unspecific and vague thing… the idea of you.”

He studied me intently. “It’s madness. I went along with it, though he never shared with me where his conviction came from.” His voice dropped. “Now consider how many times he thought he may have found you, to then discover he was wrong.”

I said nothing, watching him.

“I know to you, his past cruelties are nigh on impossible to forgive. But when one considers his nature,” he spread his hands. “ His tendency to let his emotions get the better of him… You and I can never understand that bloodlust. He has truly been torturing himself, looking for you.”

“And if I’m not the person he’s been looking for?” I cringed at the idea.

“Do you honestly feel that way?” His questioning look was laced with disbelief.

My reply was barely audible. “No.”

Adam smirked. “Then it doesn’t matter how well you think you know him – some things are meant to be.”

???

O ur conversation had given me a lot to think about, and the afternoon passed quietly. Adam spent most of his time plucking at a guitar absently, and left me at peace with my thoughts as I smiled mechanically at customers, serving them on autopilot. Every so often, I would catch him giving me a knowing look. It was irritating as hell – I was the last person who needed lectures about destiny and fate. I had enough of that with the hunter stuff. I didn’t need it from him too. Besides, his conviction was still pretty baffling. So with an hour and a half until closing, I told him he may as well leave.

“You could head off. It’s dead in here.”

“I thought you might appreciate the company more than my barista skills,” he chuckled, but he was already reaching for his coat.

“I have,” I said honestly. “I could do with a barista, though, if you know one. It doesn’t look like Tom’s going to step up anytime soon – the guy knows how to hold a grudge.”

“He will come around eventually, Erin. You’re asking him to dismiss a lot of deep-seated prejudices in a short time.”

I pulled a face, annoyed at how wise he could be. “I’m the one who should struggle with that, not him.”

“It’s understandable you would feel that way. But remember, his belief in this world that he doesn’t see… all of that is rooted in his trust in you. He’ll discover that soon enough.”

I nodded, handing him his scarf. “Thanks for today, Adam. I have appreciated the company.”

“It was my pleasure.” To my surprise, he gave me a quick hug.

I watched through the window until he disappeared into the winter afternoon, breathing the coffee scented air deeply. Inside, only a young couple remained, lost in their own world. Once they left, I closed early, grateful that for a few hours at least, Adam had helped me to forget.