Life After Death

Corryn: drinking alone

                 

{Corryn}

I woke up wet and cold, though neither of those things should have been possible. I sputtered, trying to get the water of me as quickly as I could.

Nick was holding a cup of water and not looking very contrite.

"You could have said something," I told him reproachfully.

"I did," he insisted. "But you didn't wake up. Aren't the dead not supposed to sleep?"

"Houses aren't supposed to talk," I pointed out.

I sat up and tried to brush off the water. My hair was dripping into my eyes and it was icily trailing down my neck. Nick waved a hand at me and I was dry once again.

"So melodramatic," he muttered. "Anyway, I need you to go to down to the basement and retrieve Lancelot. He's locked himself in the wine cellar."

"Why don't you do it?" I asked.

"Firstly, because he's not supposed to know I exist," Nick said. "And secondly, he's shaped the door away. The only person that can get in is Mikaela, and I think you'll have a better chance in helping the boy."

I grumbled, but floated through the floor to the lower levels of the house. I wasn't sure where the wine cellar was, but Nick appeared just as I emerged in the darkened halls of the basement. It was cleaner than I expected, but still smelled a bit damp.

"It was right here." Nick gestured at a crudely patched part of the wall. "I'm sure you can just go in."

"Not that I want to."

I hadn't made up my mind about Lancelot. He seemed like a good boy, but I knew of the twins' pranks. He had just as much of a part of it as Arthur did. And a wine cellar wasn't exactly a place good boys locked themselves up in.

I floated through the door and peered around the shelves and wine bottles. There was a figure sitting down next to a barrel. He had several wine bottles scattered around his feet. As far as I could tell, he hadn't seen me; Lancelot was resting his head on his knees.

I moved closer to him and sat, waiting for him to see me. I didn't know how much he had drank, but I didn't want to startle him.

We sat in the cellar in silence for much longer than I would have thought. It was dark, a bit cool, but completely silent. I couldn't hear dripping or even the creaking of the manor above us. There were hundreds of wine bottles, collected over the centuries of the Seren family living in this estate. If I was alive, I would have wanted to try a couple; I could imagine there were some ancient vintages in this room. Mikaela relied on Nick or my brother for the wine selection instead of sampling the troves down here.

Lancelot hiccupped, shifting his head. I leaned in, hoping that he would notice that I had been sitting in this cold floor for some time.

"Corryn?" he managed.

I shifted closer to him, leaning against the same barrel he was.

"The one and only," I replied. "What are you doing down here, Lancelot?"

The boy shuddered, wiping tears from his eyes.

"Thinking," he said. "And drinking. Less thinking, really."

"It's a bit late," I remarked. "How about we go upstairs and you go to sleep...."

"He's not in our room," he interrupted a bit loudly. I didn't catch his meaning at first, but he continued: "Arthur's not there. All his things are there; clothes, shoes, books. But there's no note, no explanation. I'm all alone."