The Undead Sorcerer

Chapter 10

I scatter the bottles. They empty bottles; they're empty; where did my supplies go? I'm going to go mad! The desk groans under my gasp and the wood cracks. This madness – I could feel it building on the battlefield, but ignored it because I thought the magic-dampening potion was still in my coat pocket. If I had lost it in the field, I would have noticed. My life depends on it too much to notice it go missing like that... I facepalm and groan. How... How could I be so reckless? The hairs on my trembling arms rise. Oh, I've been here before, and it's not pretty. My stomach drops into my ass. Lengthening fangs cut my bottom lip. What if one of these bastards stole it? Maybe Gregory? No, Gregory may be an assshole, but he doesn't care about anyone else enough to stab them in the back. Henry – maybe, considering he might have tried to drown me. I take a deep breath, trying to remind myself I'm human. But when your body holds no heat, your lungs hold no air, and your stomach doesn't crave food, it's not easy. It's easier to consider yourself a monster... Get it together... If I can find some supplies, I can brew another potion and save myself.

"Good morning, Morgan; it's a sunny day, I see," I greet her, and she raises a brow at me. Her quizzical green eyes look me over.

"You're sober," she notices, coming closer now. Thankfully, she smells just faintly like fresh soil and herbs. In order to work the yard, the gardener has her sleeves rolled up. I swear I can hear her blood pounding through her cephalic vein, calling for me.

"Why does everyone always look surprised?" I scoff at her, offering a weak, tight-lipped smile while trying not to accidentally flash my fangs. I rock back on my heels, considering taking a step back.

"I suppose, but it's a rare treat," Morgan laughs with a coy smirk

"Ha, ha, very funny. But, hey, did you bring any fresh angelica?" I inquire but the coltish herbalist shakes her head. My hope sinks further. I follow her outside, fully geared up, of course. But even covered, facing the sun is daunting and draining.

"I just planted some outside, but you know it'll take time to grow," Morgan reminds me. Maybe I should just quit now and go home?

"I don't have much to spare, but for a long-time customer," Morgan admits.

"You're too kind. I owe you my gratitude," I praise her. It's better than nothing, but not enough for what I require. Though I'm grateful she's not asking a ton of questions, my luck might as well be shit right now.

"But, maybe Sir Chance can speed things up?" Morgan suggests. "And considering I can't sell a proper stock, consider this one a favor," Morgan decides, gifting me the fresh herbs before dismissing herself. Morgan, I find him outside. Though he smells mostly like soil, herbs, and flowers; I detect traces of blood from a wound. He must have cut or scraped himself in the yard. The smell – it's making me nauseous. Have you ever been so hungry and starving before coming across the smell of food? Moral and survival; how they torture me. My undead body craves something that my morals detest. My madness will tell me that I'm crazy, and I should give in – and I'll snap out of it with a terrible fright in my chest. Edward's bright, cheery face looks to me with nearly the same level of questioning.

"Sure, it's no bother to me. What kind of project are you working on?" Edward wonders while working.

"I confess, it's for personal use. It aids a prescription for sleep," I lie. Edward does a double take.

"Forgive my surprise; I didn't expect you to be troubled," Edward admits.

"Going to battle will leave you with a few nightmares and a dozen demons," I tell him with a careless shrug.

"If I can do something to help, of course," Edward assures me. Thank goodness because I am dying inside. Part of me wishes I could be more honest because Edward's pace is painfully slow while I am dying inside. My stomach pains me, and these wretched fangs are poking at the insides of my lips. Either I need to be fed, or I need my medicine soon. You don't need to be fed, Alistair; quite frankly, you need to be put down. Sweetness wafts over my mouth, and my lips part for a moment as the taste of sugary syrupiness hits my taste buds. "Morning!" Edward chimes, distracted by Gregory, Zoe, Sunny, and Peter outside.