Byron

Billie’s run-down house lay on the outskirts of an abandoned suburban development project. Byron walked a pathway of eroded bricks and weeds to the front door; which may have been red at one time, but was now a pale, chipped pink. The smell of mildew and centuries-old rot from inside the house bombarded him. Any vampire who visited the off-kilter man found themselves grateful for only needing to breathe when they spoke.

He hesitated at the door. It was a mark of shame among vampires when they had to visit Billie. It was particularly troubling to Byron, as he shouldn’t have needed to pay a visit this soon after the blood feast. But he was thirsty and everyone used him when they were dry.

He glared at the door and knocked.

“Yes?”

“It’s Byron, let me in,” he said and ran his thumbnail along the edge of the nametag in his pocket.

“Really! I thought I wouldn’t be seeing any vampires for a while after you had your little shindig at the lake with the Daughters and all.” Billie flung his front door open and waved him inside the house. He was gawky and pale with a youthful appearance, though probably close to forty. His mousy brown hair rarely sat straight, and his blue eyes witnessed the world—destroyed as it was—with wonder. There was something off about Billie that Byron couldn’t quite explain. Yet, the headless dolls and chipped Fiestaware he surrounded himself with suited him. Billie was just another piece of the broken collection.

“Yeah, well. Crazy day, I guess.” Byron entered, cautiously stepping over an open fashion magazine from 1985.

“Oh my, I guess so.” Billie looked him up and down. “Why are you so filthy, hm?”

“Just out patrolling in the forest.”

Billie grinned. “Keeping us safe from all those nasty Blueskins, huh? Lord, did you have some form of altercation?”

“No. Saw one. Stayed out of it though.”

“Mm, mm-hm.” Billie sat down at a table and rested his chin on the palms of both hands. He bobbed his head up and down as he rocked his elbows. “Hey, would you sit with me for a spell? It’s just I get so lonely after you all have your little drink of the ladies. Don’t see no one for weeks.”

Byron moaned internally but dusted off a chair and sat. He could take what he needed, but this mess was his own fault. And he couldn’t think of a time Billie ever told him no. “Okay. I don’t think I’m much company, but fine. Only, knock it off with the Scarlett O'Hara act.”

Billie blinked and waved a dismissive hand. “Why don’t you think you’re ‘much company,’ Byron. I love having you around.”

“I don’t know. Strange times.”

“Well, yeah. It’s the end of the world and all.”

“For me, it’s been the end of the world for quite a while now. I should be used to it.”

“How long? I mean, in actual years?”

“Not sure. When things broke down, there weren’t a whole lot of people keeping track of what the days were anymore. If I had to guess, I’d say about three hundred years—give or take.”

Billie whistled. “Not sure what I’d do with all that time. Especially if I was by myself. Of course, I’d like to try. You ever think any more about making me like you?”

“Is this why you want me to be here? So you can sell me on making you a vampire again?”

“Oh no. No, no, sir.” Billie shook his head. “Just putting it out there so you know I’m interested. You can’t get mad at me for expressing interest. Can you?”

A part of Byron wanted to deck the guy. But the fact remained, he needed blood. “There’s a certain weight a person has to carry when they make someone a vampire. Or drink someone dry, for that matter. At first, it’s not that big of a deal either. When I was young, I’d finish my plate—so to speak—often. But then you’re rolling around with the voices of your victims in your head. Everywhere you go, there’s some part of them….” Based on the confused stare he received, his message wasn’t getting through. “And then there’s just not a whole lot of people left in the world either.”

Billie frowned and sat back in his chair. “Yeah, I get it. I guess. Not a whole lot of people to drink blood from.”

“Yeah, sure.”

An awkward pause stretched on until Billie brightened and said, “Maybe someday when things are better, right?”

Byron squinted at his dirty hands to avoid the hopeful stare projected at him. “Maybe someday when things are better.”

He drank from Billie a little while later. The blood had a displeasing oiliness about it and couldn’t compare with the sweet virgin nectar he’d received from the Immaculate Daughter the night before. And as usual, Billie squealed with delight when fangs punctured his flesh. At a certain point, the guy tried to put his arms around for a hug and Byron swatted them away.

Perhaps stung by the denial, Billie asked, “Do you hate me?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Good, because I don’t hate you either. Now I don’t know how I feel about old Mr. Templeton. Sometimes I think he wants to kill me and not make me a vampire either.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh well, he comes by a lot nowadays. And I keep telling him, I’ve barely had any time to recover, and it’s dangerous for me to let him drink all the time, but he just doesn’t listen. Sometimes I think he might even be drinking from me while I sleep. Can you imagine? I mean, the least you can do is ask me if it’s okay and all.”

Byron frowned. “How often is he coming by?”

“I don’t know, a couple times a week. Or less. Or more. Whenever…”

“That seems like a lot.”

“Yeah and unlike you, he’ll drink until I pass out and then I lose track of time. Sometimes I must sleep for days straight.”

“Why don’t you move somewhere he can’t find you?”

“I mean, he brings me things to help that are high in iron and all. So there’s that. And I don’t mind. I just wish he’d ask me if it was okay.”

“Look, I’m not entirely sure how it works with people who give blood. But it seems like you should be dead. How are you not?”

Billie looked away and blanched. “Is it too much?”

“Well, yeah.” A haunted expression in Billie’s eyes forced Byron to swallow his temper. Poor kid is already upset. Don’t need to make it worse for him. Despite his internal counsel, his fists tightened around an imaginary Vic’s neck.

A small tear welled at the corner of Billie’s eye. “What can I do?”

“Move out and if he finds you, never let him in.”

“But where would I go?”

“Anywhere that’s not here. I know it’s easier said than done. But you can do it.”

“Well, I don’t know. I like where I’m at. Did you know this is kind of my first home? Can you imagine? I’ve moved around so many times in my life and finally I found this place and it’s just been so delightful to have my stuff here and all. Why would I want to go anywhere else?”

Byron looked around at the dingy walls and all the broken things: chairs missing legs, dolls without heads, a cabinet full of broken glasses and finally back to Billie. Compared to how little most refugees had, he owned considerably more. Granted, it was all trash, and he was certain Billie was a hoarder to boot, but he understood.

“Tell you what. You’re right. You should be able to keep your home. No one can tell you how to live at the end of the world, huh? I’ll have words with Vic.”

Billie shone and moved to hug Byron, who pushed him away. “Sorry about that. Thank you so much. Are you going to stay with me then?”

“What do you mean?”

“In case Mr. Templeton comes calling soon. I let you drink. What if he comes by this morning? I’ll be helpless.”

Byron glanced at the ceiling. “How about I’ll be in the area.”

A squeal of delight left Billie as he hugged himself. “Feel free to come by anytime.”

“Okay.” He traveled the space between himself and the door in four quick strides before exiting. He had to get out and away. The guy wasn’t all that bad, but best taken in small doses.

After a quick search of the area, he found a hidden spot with an unrestricted view of Billie’s front door. Once there, he leaned against an old fencepost, idly lacing Rory’s nametag through his fingers.

Sure enough, Ol’ Vic Templeton came calling when the sky was still a darker shade of gray with the moon peering between breaks in the ash clouds. Based on his dirt-caked attire, it was clear he’d run a good distance.

Byron set his jaw and scowled. Invigorated from his recent meal; he sprang in front of the other vampire and caught him off guard. “Billie tells me you’ve been forcing yourself on him. Coming by all too frequently. Are you trying to kill him?”

Vic staggered back a few steps and held out a hand in front of him. “I don’t want no trouble.”

“I don’t want trouble either.” Byron puffed out his chest and took a step closer. “Answer me and there won’t be any.”

They both folded their arms and stared daggers at each other. Finally, Vic broke the silence. “You just fed off him. Didn’t ya?”

“Yep.”

“You two playing house now?”

“Would it matter if we were?”

Vic scratched his eyebrow. “Nah, doesn’t matter to me. But I’m thinking you don’t have the full story on your new boyfriend. Did he tell you he was one of them witches traveled from the past? One of them Starfalls? Are you certain he didn’t put a spell on you?”

“What proof do you have?” Byron asked.

“Well, he should be dead several times over now and he ain’t. I first realized that awhile back when I was real hard up. I mean, I had limbs hanging by threads. Hell, I was so decrepit, Billie had to drag me into his home and cut himself so I could feed. And then as you’re well aware, when a body needs a serious mending, once started I couldn’t stop. After that, I passed out next to what I thought was his corpse.”

Byron cursed under his breath.

“Imagine my surprise on waking when I found him bright eyed and bushy tailed. And from then on, I’ve had the ghost of him in my mind—like you do when you’ve taken a body’s essence.” Vic motioned to Billie’s house. “Even though you just fed on him, bet if I go in and take a little, he’ll be fine.”

“You think you can get through me right now?” Byron balled his fists and took another step forward.

“Nah, but where’s the gratitude? You thinking I won’t remember this?” Vic said. “I saw past you running off the other night when it was time for the glamouring. Hell, the other vampires must think I’m soft on you.”

“You think you’re the only one who can make a deal with the Catherine?”

“Nope, but let’s say there’s more going on than you’re ever going to know. I gotta be in two places at once. Visits to Billie here make it possible. Besides, are you going to guard him round the clock?”

Byron glowered. Chances were good he wouldn’t be able to keep Vic away forever. Let alone the rest of the brood. And given how disinclined Billie was to leave his home, what could he do? “You leave him be for now. There are plenty of refugees outside Alma for you to take your chances on.”

Vic guffawed in exasperation. “C’mon now. Really? They might be tainted. It’s not safe. How about I give you my word? I’ll only take a sip.”

“You know well and good I’m not going to take you at your word-”

“That’s all in the past now, isn’t it?”

Byron growled. “It’s like this. I’ve got a problem with my memory. When someone fucks me over, I have a real hard time forgetting.”

“I’ll make damn sure you regret this,” Vic said and stormed off.

Byron watched as he disappeared, and his face grew dark. What does Vic mean by needing to be in two places at the same time? What’s his game?

Back at the house, Byron sat in front of the table. Instead of speaking, he watched as Billie plunked down in a nearby chair. There was a lot more pep in him than one would expect after losing a couple pints of blood.

“You’re a witch,” Byron said.

Billie’s eyes widened. “Am I?”

“You don’t know, huh?” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Do you happen to remember how you got here?”

“Do you mean my home?” Billie asked, his arms waving at the expanse of the room.

“No, before that.”

“Before, I lived with the tent people. I mean, the refugees. And I didn’t like it because there were so many sad people there.” The whites around Billie’s blue eyes reddened, and he looked down at his lap.

Byron frowned and squirmed in his seat. From what he’d heard, witches appeared from times before the end of the world. While a Starfall could be any number of things, witches always arrived by Starfall. He tapped his knuckles against the scarred tabletop. “When you were a kid, what was it like?”

“It was all right, I guess. I used to get made fun of a lot in school. But then I had a smartphone, and I made a bunch of friends on the internet, and that made it okay.”

Byron sat up with a start. “What year was that?”

“Like 2019? I’m not sure. It’s been such a long time since. Then poof, I woke up in a forest one night and I couldn’t message anyone.”

“So, you time traveled?”

“I guess. I couldn’t find anybody, so I just walked for a really long time until I saw some other people on their way to Alma. Whenever I tried to tell anybody about what happened to me, people looked at me like I was a weirdo. By now you’d think I was used to being treated like a creep. You don’t feel that way, do you, Byron?”

“Well, I’m not going to lie. You’re a little strange. But that said, you’re a good guy. And no one deserves to be treated the way Vic treats you.”

“If I were a vampire, I could take care of myself. You wouldn’t have to worry about keeping me safe.”

“From what I hear, I couldn’t if I tried. Vic swears he drank you dry and somehow you revived on your own.” Byron smirked as he thought about little Billie humming away in Vic’s head. Must be driving that asshole crazy.

Billie pouted. “Why are you smiling? I really wanted to be a vampire.”

“No reason, but look, you might be something even better. An unkillable witch.”

“Aren’t boy witches called warlocks?”

“All right, fine. You’re a warlock. Got any other tricks?”

Billie ignored him and disappeared into the kitchen. There was a loud clatter of crashes and metal hitting metal followed by a pained, “Ow!”

Byron ran in and found the warlock pulling a knife out of his palm. “What the fuck, Billie?” Should I have expected this?

“If you’re being real with me, this will heal. If not, you’re full of it.” He held up his hand to display a hole left by the blade.

“Look man, you don’t know how this works. What if it’s just a blood rejuvenation thing? Or, hell, Vic could be full of shit.” Annoyed by his own thoughtlessness, Byron searched for a rag to cover the wound. Of course, I should have expected this.

“Well, why didn’t you tell me that before I cut myself?”

Byron clenched his jaw. “I didn’t know you were going to do something so rash. Why didn’t you tell me you traveled in time before now?”

“You didn’t ask.” Billie opened his mouth to say more, but before any words could come out, he looked back down at his palm and beamed. “It’s healing. I feel a tickle. Oh, wow, it’s healing. Look.”

To their shared amazement, the hole closed up with a seal of waxy, new skin.

Billie ran the index finger of his other hand over the area. “It’s really soft there. You want to feel it?”

“I’ll take your word on it.” Byron smiled and relaxed slightly. This changed things. As he formed a plan for what came next, his fingers traced the raised letters of Rory’s nametag in his pocket.