Byron

The root cellar was dark and gray—reflective of Byron’s mood. Part of him thought he should be happy while the other side perceived Mara’s offer as a death sentence. A light shimmered at the invisible door and Holga walked out. She jumped at the sight of him.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He shrugged. “I could ask you the same thing. Last time I saw you was at the gates of Alma.”

“A door appeared in my room and Mara beckoned me through.”

“Just got back from there myself.”

“How is that possible? I talked to her for over an hour—ninety-three minutes, to be precise.”

“Don’t know. Magic, I guess.” He sighed and looked at the wooden steps. “There’s a bunch of people who’d like to see you’re alive up there. Shall we?”

“Sure. I’m anxious to see them myself.”

At the top of the stairs, Byron thrust the planked doors wide, and they made a loud thud as they hit the ground. “Hey, look everybody it’s Holga.”

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared. Doc was first to rush toward her and pull her into a big bear hug. “We thought you were dead. Is Lena here too.”

“No, she is dead,” Holga said, lacking any emotion or note of irony.

Stunned, Doc averted his eyes. “Sorry.”

“We all knew the risks,” she replied.

She exchanged hugs and hellos with Sven and Nadine and shook hands with Billie and Rory on introduction.

The group quieted down and sat rapt as she detailed her adventures in Blueskin territory. Byron only listened to bits-and-pieces as he stole glances at Rory, who seemed to be purposefully ignoring him.

“Gregory was thankful Byron came when he did,” Holga said. “He was sure he’d die if Vic bit him again. Then we walked out, and I made out thirty-nine Blueskin corpses—although, there could have been more behind the pile—Byron stepped over a detached head of a woman and peered at what was likely her body on top of the hill, and said, ‘Ignore them. They can’t hurt you.’”

The blood drained out of Rory’s face and she asked, “He killed them?”

Holga blinked. “Or so it appears,” she said and proceeded with her story of how they got back to Alma.

Most of the group seemed to turn away from Byron after this. Their guarded expressions and crossed arms spoke volumes. Only Billie smiled at him when he scanned their faces.

An uncomfortable silence passed once Holga finished speaking. Doc spoke first. “Well, I’m glad you’re not dead. I guess Byron is to thank for that. Let’s thank him, huh?”

Holga shook his hand and said, “Thank you.” While the rest ushered past him and mumbled a few words of gratitude.

Billie thrust his arms around him and said, “I knew you were one of the good guys.” And for once Byron didn’t swat the guy away.

Byron grunted. “I need to talk to Rory.” He stepped away from his friend and said, “Hey.” But Rory ignored him.

She stepped in front of Holga and asked, “Where’s Gregory?”

“He’s staying in Alma. They’ve made a sensory deprivation chamber for him. The Catherine was accommodating.”

Doc scoffed. “She wasn’t exactly accommodating to us before we left.”

“She wouldn’t tell me, but why exactly did you all leave?”

“Well,” Doc said. “The Catherine told us you and Lena were dead but Rory heard otherwise from a Blueskin lady. When I confronted her… Well, long story short, I might have lost my temper a bit and Grace told us we were no longer welcome in Alma.” He watched Betts trotting and frowned. “Come to think of it, I didn’t double-check with the Catherine about no witches being welcome anymore. She didn’t seem weird to you?”

“Lena always said I don’t read into things, so I don’t know. The Catherine was different. There was something almost caring about how she responded to me. She seemed genuinely upset about passing on false information that we were dead.” Holga sighed. “But I’m not the best judge of character.”

“We might have been too hasty,” Nadine said. “I think we’re all aware this Catherine has had a history of being fairer than her predecessors. It’s just, you know, us witches were part of Alma, but not really part of Alma.”

Sven nodded. “Yeah. After all the run-ins I’ve had-”

Doc cut him off with a dangerous stare. “You’re a special case, Sven. And if you’re honest, you have to agree.”

“If I’m honest… then yeah.”

* * *

Byron lingered around the farmhouse, waiting for a private moment with Rory. Much as he wanted to avoid the crush of feelings a confrontation might bring, there was no way around it.

After arrangements were made for Holga and the others bid their good nights, Rory came up to him. An uneasy frown wore on her face. She said, “Sorry for using the power again.”

“Yeah, I don’t care. Doesn’t bother me.”

“Well, it bothers me.” She looked down, sighed, and her expression shifted from sharp to soft. “I think we should talk, but I don’t even know where to start.”

“That’s fine. I don’t know either.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I’m not at the same time. You know?”

He fought himself from arguing about whether he did know. Finally, he said, “Me too. I’m a vampire. As long as you’ve known me, I’ve been one.”

“Okay.”

“It’s said, ‘vampires don’t make friends, they make truces.’ Now, granted, some of those who’ve said that—Sharona—were justifying their actions, but there is a hint of truth. It’s complicated with my kind. No two ways about it. How can you trust someone else when you can’t trust yourself? Maybe the only way around that is if I did what you’re asking and quit being a vampire.”

She nodded. “But we know that’s impossible.”

Byron shot her a furtive glance. “I told you it was impossible, because I thought it was, but-”

“But what?”

He sighed heavily. “Mara said some interesting things to that regard. Seems like there might be a way.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“It’s not a small change for me and I don’t know if I trust her. I told her it would make me weak.”

“Is it really about trust or are you just afraid to feel vulnerable?”

“Would you have liked it if I died with Holga and Gregory the other day?”

“About that—are you proud of how many lives you ended?”

He took a step away from her. “No.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t get hurt. But I’m also glad that it happened—not that they died—but it was a reminder of what you are.”

“What was it you called me the last time you mindfucked me? A fucking monster?”

She set her jaw and through gritted teeth said, “I like you Byron.” Aggressively, she pointed the tip of her finger inches away from his face. “But I don’t like what you are. At all. And what’s more—I don’t like how much I want to give in to you.” Her breath rasped and her complexion warmed. For a moment, Byron thought she might hyperventilate. She inhaled deeply and let the air leave her in a long, tortured sigh.

“What if I like being a vampire. Why can’t you drop all this other shit and give in?”

She crossed her arms and trembled. “How long before it’s my head you’re stepping over?”

“Well, I wouldn’t.” He scoffed. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Okay, so you won’t hurt me, but how long before Sven says something—and boom—dead.”

“That’s not how it works. I’m not going to let his bullshit get to me.” His eyes turned ashen. Downcast, he said, “I guess I see your point when I really think about it.” An image of bodies strewn every which way bore into his mind. “When I misread the hostility of some form of violence and go off. It doesn’t end well. Look, I’ve got to get out of here.”

“Wait.”

He shook his head and ran with all his might. Away.

* * *

Miles from the farmhouse, a portal opened and Mara motioned for him to enter. “Now you must make your choice,” she said.

Inside her altar room, skeletal hands gripped his. This time her face was a skull covered in a thin layer of skin. Darkened teeth protruded through parched lips. The peasant’s dress she wore billowed around her gaunt frame, and the only source of illumination was a candle that flickered by her seat. With imposing strength, she made him kneel to her side. Her frame jerked as if her joints had rusted over and she sat with a groan.

“You know what I’ve decided.” Byron adjusted his weight from one knee to another in a failed attempt at achieving comfort.

A dry laugh rasped from Mara’s mouth. “I do. But you have to say it.”

He sighed. “I’d like the curse lifted. I want to quit being a vampire.”

She pushed into his forehead with a bony index finger and then into his heart. A brilliant flash of sun shot from her eyes and burned into his flesh, leaving him writhing on the floor. “Stand and face me,” she demanded.

After he complied. She pulled her mouth to his. The ghosts inside departed. He caught a flash of them behind her, whirling around with ever increasing speed before they vanished into oblivion. Whispered words fell from her lips and she blew once on each of his eyes. “There,” she said. “You are a summoner of spirits. I imbue your tongue with a call and open your eyes to the liminal.”

Byron felt his pulse quicken for the first time in centuries, and his body radiated with warmth. “I-I’m alive.”

She nodded. “That too. Now I must show you something.” A beam of color projected from the star in the ceiling and took the form of Vic and Sharona at an outcropping—mere paces away from Alma’s front gate.

“We’re doing this now,” Vic said. “I made an ultimatum with the Catherine to give me Holga and not only did she refuse, she must’ve let the damn witch escape. Else why would Billie have seen Holga reunited with the others?”

“Whatever man. Something doesn’t feel right,” Sharona said. “Besides, how are we going to breach the gates?”

Vic smiled and bared his fangs. He whistled, and a swarm of vampires pounced on Sharona, restraining her movement. They pressed an old glass jar to her lips, and she fought. “NO, that’s tainted water,” she said. A hand pushed into her mouth and the muddy fluid poured through the cracks between fingers.

“How long do you suppose it will take?” Vic asked.

And the group just shrugged.

Moments later, Sharona’s eyes lost focus and her skin puckered. Her muscles raged with distressed veins and her flesh purpled and blued. Her thrashing strengthened and throaty animal cries shot from her mouth. An arm freed and knocked one of her captors into a broken pile on the ground.

Vic jogged away from the group. “Throw her at the gatekeepers,” he said as he distanced himself.

With great strain they did as commanded and then ran after their leader.

The monster screamed, and a roused pair of guards stood in its way. The creature caught them in its arms, dried one after the other of blood and discarded each on the ground. A shriek echoed from it and its fists fell hard on the doors, raining splinters everywhere until the timbers caved under the onslaught and the abomination entered Alma.

Vic and the brood emerged as the dust cleared. “Just steer clear of her, er, it. They keep the Daughters to the north of the camp. See if you all can grab two or, at least, one. Then hightail it on out of there.”

The vampires nodded their agreement, and the group made its way through the breach.

Back in the altar room, Byron watched as the projected image distorted and flicked off.

“What do you think of what you’ve seen?” Mara asked.

“The only time I’ve seen a vampire corrupted by the taint in the past. Well, it was utter chaos until the thing burned out. Plus, you’ve got a full-on invasion force. Seems like about all of them are in on it. Is that happening now?”

“Yes.”

“You could send me to help.”

“No. I need to show you another thing.”

An image from the farmhouse appeared. Outside the confines, a vampire named Trevor lurked the grounds. He looked at the trees and scoffed. “Might as well just run on in. They’re not expecting me or anything.” With that, he ran forward and vanished along with his projected image.

Byron stood. “I need to get going.”

“No. You need to understand something. You told me how you couldn’t take my offer, because you wouldn’t be able to protect your friends. So, we will let them take care of it.”

“But Trevor is a madman.” Byron pounded his fists on the table and felt an unfamiliar pain shoot through his hands. “Ow.”

Mara cackled. “There’s another reason I won’t send you—you don’t remember how it feels to be of mortal flesh.”

They waited in uncomfortable silence afterwards until she waved him away. “Go,” she said.

Finally. He sped to the exit and glimpsed her blowing out the candle as the door closed behind him.