The Undead Sorcerer

Chapter 11

The porch provides some solitude, granting warmth, but with the shades drawn, I am shielded from the shade. I don't know that I can stomach the table again. I put pressure on the bridge of my nose. I'm starving, and yet I feel like I could raise an entire army from the ground. Energy, like a cold draft, constantly flows in my veins, and I can't seem to shake the chill. Maybe that's the nature of my curse, an undead monster hungry for war and blood? The scent of herbal oils, potting soil, and the city's flowers grows near - Morgan must be coming near.

"Morgan," I greet her before she even rounds the corner. She looks taken aback, suprised I noticed her coming before she saw me. The damned undead senses, I've gotten too used to them. The longer I remain like this, the more natural it is for me to smell, see, and hear things better than the average human. As hard as I try, I'm not very good at faking it. "Uh- hey, good morning," I blurt out, rubbing the back of my neck. I shift uneasily from one foot to the other.

"You look well, congrats on your victory with the golem," Morgan tells me. "How are you today?" she asks. Glad that I didn't fail, but the consequences....

"Okay, slept well. Thank you. What has you up so early?" I reply, and Morgan smiles.

"The garden needs to be watered before high sun," Morgan explains, "And Edward said you needed these roots harvested for your potion brewing. Will this be enough?" Morgan offers. I shift from one foot to the other, fighting internally to hold in my excitement.

"That's amazing, thank you. Well, I should start preparing this now. I can't thank you enough," I tell her.

"Please, it's the least I can do. I-I'm just glad I could help you, Alistair," Morgan stammers, "I heard you weren't feeling well yesterday. Glad to see you're up again," she adds, looking up at me with these wide green eyes. Dylan, that brat must have said something... No, if he had said something, I would have said more. Where'd she hear that from?

"I suppose, just a little under the weather. But that's to be expected with travel and fighting monsters. Plus, I have been out of commission for some time," I brush it off. A hint of alcohol brushes the manor; they must be serving drinks. A bottle of strong alcohol would dampen my senses, easing the undead discomfort a little.

"What have the others been up to? I'm dying to have a good drink," I wonder.

"Actually, they were about to pour wine in the drawing room. You should join us. I know how much you enjoy a cold one," Morgan suggests.

"If they're also serving hard alcohol," I suggest; we share a laugh before we split ways. Maybe Justina will be there. The thought flutters across my mind unintentionally. I rub my forehead in my palm. I'm an idiot, catching feelings when I can't manage my magic. What's wrong with me? I rub my chest with my palm. Yet she makes my still chest flutter. I head for my room, prep the dried herbs and concentrations, and weigh them all out. The worst part is letting the herbs dry and ferment for a few days. I better find something to kill time. These frequent celebrations may offer a distraction. I head into the mansion's drawing room, where the wine is flowing, tongues are buzzing, and the people are laughing. I spot Justina saying something to Gregory and Sunny, the two of them throwing back glasses of alcohol. She turns her back on them and leaves, disappearing down a hallway. I circle back, cutting down another hallway to avoid getting trapped by conversation.

"Come on, I know you have to drink every once in a while," I call to Justina.

"Yes, every once in a while," Justina says with a smirk.

"Did Gregory's drinks not suit your tastes?" I wonder. Justina scoffs and shakes her head.

"Those two were on their fourth glass and wanted me to keep going," Justina tells me.