14. I.T.

Harry grabbed his weapon from the ground and pulled himself to his feet. I tried to follow but, sickened by a wave of dizziness, had no choice but to lie back, propping myself up on one arm. I watched him, jaw clenched.

“You’re hurt too,” I said, trying to bite back the slur in my words.

“Nowhere important,” he whispered back, weighing the table leg in his good hand and nodding approval at himself. “I’ll go and see what it is.”

“I should come too. What if there’s more than one?”

“And what if there’s more than two?” He sighed. “You’re not in any fit state to help me right now, besides. Stay here, I’ll be back in a second.” Then, straining to make sure the footsteps were still present (they were), Harry padded to the stairwell and crept away out of sight. I sagged against the backpack and tentatively felt for bumps and bruises on my skull, flinching as I found an egg shaped lump at the back of my head. I wasn’t going anywhere for some time.

Harry had been gone for a few minutes while I drifted in and out of daydreams, fighting to concentrate, and it finally occurred to me that I lay in perfect silence. My breath hitched. I waited.

Then, beneath me, a blunt crack echoed up the set of stairs, followed by the scrabbling of feet, masculine voices and a great deal of swearing and accusations. “Harry?” I called, forcing myself past the nausea to get myself sat up. More footsteps came racing back up the stairs. I patted the ground around me, my pockets, my coat, but couldn’t find the letter opener in time.

Harry rubbed at his cheek as he came back into view, expression like thunder, table leg gone. Behind him shuffled a middle aged man – he wore a dirty white shirt and a tie was still knotted loosely about his neck. His lips, bloody from a punch, had already begun to swell.

“You hit me,” he said sourly.

Harry shook his head. “You deserved it.” His gaze flicked around to me. “He tried to jump me.”

“Can you blame me? I thought you were one of those monsters.” The other man dabbed at his red lips with his sleeve.

“I spoke to you. They don’t speak.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

I rubbed my aching eyes. “Can we not?” I asked before they could continue to bicker. My heart kept fluttering in my chest. I took long breaths to stay calm. “You’ll draw attention from some really nasty shit if you keep this up. Now who the hell are you?” I squinted at the newcomer.

He cleared his throat and wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Blake Warner. I work in tech support. I stopped the fire alarm.”

“He says, anyway,” Harry muttered. I waved a hand to shut him up.

“Thanks,” I said. “But how?”

“I can show you… but only if you help me with something.”

“Of course,” I said. Harry scowled.

“Wait,” he said. “With what?”

Blake smiled. It bordered on painful. “Come with me.”