The Undead Sorcerer

Chapter 14

My fangs pierce soft, tender flesh, and the pulse below quickens. She winces, nails scraping at the library shelves behind her back. Fresh blood runs into my mouth and over my lips, cooling this maddening hunger screaming in the back of my mind. Like a wicked devil whispering in my ear, it craves all that holds warmth, a pulse, and a soul. Lately, this hunger has come with a desire to sleep. The hungrier I become, the more I feel as if I might slip into a sleep, I may never wake from. The Void only knows what may happen if that were to happen. I pull back, and the breathless Justina would nearly collapse if not for me close at hand to help her keep her balance.

"I-I'm sorry," I murmur. Her eyes close, and her heavy breathing shudders.

"It's not like you intended on becoming this," Justina reminds me, "It was just an accident."

"It's my fault I can't fix it," I point out. Damn, this – between craving more and wanting this to end.

"Focus on what you can do, not what you can't," Justina suggests. I chuckle at her optimism.

"I swear, if you met the devil himself, you'd find a way to see some good in him," I tease, "Are you alright?" I wonder. Though she nods, I'm reluctant to let her go so soon.

"The devil wouldn't have cared to ask," Justina points out between breaths. I stare for a moment, mouth hanging open ajar. I can't elaborate on how she amazes me. Her breathing won't slow, so I sit her down on the floor, and she falls back against my chest. I don't think I took that much, but given her yesterday's strenuous magic use, perhaps this was too much. "I got a little dizzy there, sorry Allistair," Justina realizes.

"Don't be, but are you sure you're okay? You're..." I insist. Her face is turning red, and then it hits me. "Let me help you up," I offer.

"I should see how Morgan is holding up," Justina tells me. I smile at her and watch her leave the quiet space of the mansion's immaculate library. The place is just as well-polished and traditionally built as the rest of the mansion, with rustic furnishing and décor. I wipe my mouth clean and give the area a once over. Nothing, there isn't a trace. I'm about to leave myself when our favorite scholar comes in.

"Alistair, good, I wanted to talk to you," Vincent begins; his timing is impeccable, a little too coincidental.

"It must be quite convenient, being able to see a step ahead of everyone all the time," I jeer at him.

"Not as convenient as one would think. The things I have seen and the things I haven't seen," Vincent grimaces, "But never mind that. You seem better," Vincent points out, raising his brows knowingly.

"How long have you known?" I guess.

"Quite some time, actually. See that first night when Matthew blacked out from drinking. I looked ahead at your next few minutes and saw them," Vincent informs me.

"So then, when Justina came to check on him, why didn't you stop her?" I inquire.

"By the time I reached the stairs, I could foresee Justina returning alive. I decided to silently observe. To be honest, I was curious. I'd never witnessed magic as uncontrollable or irrational as your own. And the longer I observed, the less of a threat you became," Vincent explains.

"But why take so long to say something?" I wonder, and he shakes his head. "And that's another thing. What about Morgan?" I point out.

"This ability has limits that I dare not push. Unlike you, Knightwalker, I will not provoke the limits of magic," Vincent explains, and I scoff at him. "I have yet to look at Morgan and regret not seeing into her actions sooner. You've known her longer, perhaps more than any of us. What do you make of her story? She appeared to be quite an accomplished sorcerer, like she was prepared to kill us until she lost," Vincent inquires.