“Runner? What the hell. It’s…” there was some fumbling, the click of cheap plastic on cheap wood. A tired grunt. “f**k. It’s nearly 3 am. Has something happened?”
“Byron? Really?” I asked again, his concern whooshing way over my head. Stupid, yeah, but it was the first thing that came into my head.
Byron O’Brien. Who on Earth came up with that? Maybe it was a family name or his mum was really into poetry or something.
“I was worried that something bad had happened – mortal peril, the end of the world, that sort of thing – but if that’s what you’re fixatin’ on then I guess I’ve got nothing to worry about.” He sighed and I could hear his bed creaking in the background, then a high twang of something I couldn’t place. “It’s not my real name, just my first one. I don’t think you’ve any ro
