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M O R G AN

I was in the kitchen at 7 am, preparing trays of sausages to go into the oven for the breakfast service. The snow had started to clear, and the village road was now passable. We usually did a good trade in the morning, selling bacon rolls and sausage baps to tradies and commuters.

Despite last night's events, we still had a pub to run. It didn't matter that Eli's possessed corpse had attacked us, or that Poppy was now a zombie, or that I had a sentient angry blue flame inside me. All that mattered was that we opened at 9 am to serve breakfast with a smile on our faces so we could pay the bills.

Poppy had spent the night locked in her bedroom. India had slept in my bedroom, while Erik had gallantly slept in the hallway, keeping us safe just in case Poppy had gone crazy.

In the morning, I'd opened Poppy's door and found her sitting on the end of her bed, pale-skinned, wide-eyed, and slightly smelling of death.

"Did you sleep much?" I'd asked.

"No, I didn't sleep at all," she replied, never blinking once.

She turned her head and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

"Have you seen my skin? I'm milk bottle white! I look like a trapped miner seeing daylight for the first time in a month," Poppy wailed.

"It's not that bad," I said, picking up her make-up bag and pulling out some bronzing powder. "A little bit of this and some fake tan, and you'll be glowing."

"Fake it until you make it, right?" Poppy sniffed, taking the bronzer from my hands.

"That's the spirit," I said, trying to sound like her un-aliveness was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Poppy took the products and entered the bathroom to baptise herself in fake tan and bronzer. When she came out, she was no longer deathly pale but a strange shade of golden orange. It looked odd, but I wasn't about to tell Poppy that.

Instead, I clapped my hands as she twirled in front of me.

"I'll be able to serve customers now," she said with a grin.

"Ah, well," I hesitated. "I thought you could be helping India with the food in the back."

I didn't have the heart to tell her I was terrified she would lose control and bite a customer, thus starting the zombie apocalypse that would destroy the world.

"My foot is very sore, and I'd do better behind the bar," I lied.

Poppy had reluctantly agreed.

I slid the tray of sausages into the oven and turned on the timer. Erik watched me silently in the background. Dark rings around his eyes suggested he had spent most of the night awake.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"She's a liability," Erik replied bluntly, folding his arms across his chest.

"We don't know what she is," I countered.

"She's not a dragon anymore, but she's not a vampire. I don't know what she is. She doesn't blink, breathe, or move like a person anymore. She smells like a field, fresh after a battle," he said.

"Well, since putting on the fake tan, she smells less corpsey and more coconutty," I replied.

I go to move past him, and his arm shoots out in front of me. I stop and gaze up at his severe expression. I hate how deadly serious he looks. I want him to go back to the drunken playful Erik with his teasing smiles and wicked tongue.

"My mate, you must take this seriously," he scolds me, "We are responsible for the safety of our people. Poppy is an unknown. Her existence could threaten the safety of every Dragon and human in this world. I know your heart is strong, but we should lead with our heads in this matter."

"You're right. We don't know what Poppy is, but she is my family. We have to give her a chance," I argued.

"I do not feel this is the right choice. But I will respect your wishes. However," Erik added, lowering his tone. "Should she become a danger, I will not hesitate to put her down."

"She won't become a danger," I said lightly, slipping past him to start prepping the scrambled eggs.

'She will...' a voice echoed in my mind.

I ignored the voice and focused on making a batch of scrambled eggs. I cracked one egg after another into the bowl. I checked the time and saw we were close to opening.

I called for India to finish the eggs while I opened the pub. The bar was sparkingly clean. Rupert and I had scrubbed and bleached the flagstones, ensuring no drop of Poppy's blood was on the floor. Thankfully, Charlie hadn't come back home last night. He had stayed out with the elders, looking for Eli's body.

I grabbed my phone and texted Charlie, telling him we would save a bacon roll for him. Charlie replied a few minutes later with a thumbs-up. I hope he was okay.

At 8 am, I unbolted the front door and welcomed our first customers, Sir Glenn and Bryon. Glenn seemed perfectly fine, but Byron appeared to be suffering from a Dragonbreath Draft Ale hangover.

"What a glorious morning," Glenn announced, eyeing our breakfast menu board.

"Would you like the usual full English breakfast?" I asked.

"I'll have a full English breakfast with extra fried mushrooms and black pudding. Although, you better make that two. Byron here needs a good breakfast to set him straight," Glen said.

Byron grimaced at the thought of a full English fry-up.

"I'd prefer peppermint tea and some aspirin," he said.

"Nonsense," Glenn barked. "A good breakfast is the best hangover cure known to man."

Byron did not respond but made a noise that sounded like a whimper of pain. They sat at a table while I handed their order to the kitchen.

When I came back from the kitchen, Erik had joined Glenn at the table and was talking to Byron in a hushed voice. I wondered if Erik was telling Glenn about what happened last night.

I grab some cutlery and head towards their table. Erik quietens down when he sees me approaching. I smiled at Glenn and started laying the cutlery on the table.

The pub door suddenly swung open with a loud bang, and a bleary-eyed Charlie entered the pub. He stomped on the doormat, knocking the snow from his boots. Behind him, the doctor followed, rubbing his cold hands together.

"By Jove, it stinks like a swimming pool in here," the doctor announced.

Charlie wrinkled his nose and added, "Yeah, it does smell like someone has tried to cover up a murder scene."

Charlie's comment catches me off guard, and I accidentally drop the cutlery in my hand. It clatters loudly against the flagstones, drawing everyone's attention to me.

I panic for a second, but then Erik stands up, resting his hand on my shoulder.

"I'm afraid it's my fault. I had some Dragonbreath Draft Ale and ended up unwell on the floor," he said, gently squeezing my shoulder.

The doctor stared at Erik for a few seconds and then let out a booming laugh.

"Dear god, boy. You need a stomach made of boot leather to digest that stuff," he said.

"There's nothing wrong with Dragonbreath Draft Ale," Glenn scoffed. "I've been drinking it since '94, and it never done me any harm."

The doctor ignored Glenn and held out his hand to Erik.

"I'm Doctor Tom Morris, the local quack. And you must be our new King, Glenn has been raving on about," the doctor said.

Erik took the doctor's hand and gave it a firm shake.

"I'm Erik," he replied politely. "King of the Storm Dragons."

"Are you indeed?" The doctor replied in a jovial tone that was ever so slightly condescending.

"Yes. I have found this village and the people in it to be delightful. Sir Glenn has been an excellent host," Erik said.

"Old Farmer Boyce said you were squatting by the devil's house in the woods. Was that true?" the doctor asked with a smile.

"We did indeed have a camp in the woods," Erik replied.

"Squatting in the woods like a tramp doesn't seem very kingly," the doctor mused.

"In the few years that we have lived in this world, it has been necessary to sell what little we had of value to get by. Most of our armour and swords were pawned as we searched for a way home," Erik explained.

"How very inconvenient for you. Have you thought about taking up work on one of the farms? I know a few farmers who would love a man to help them muck out the cowsheds."

Erik clenched his fists but refrained from biting back. He opened his mouth to reply, but Sir Glenn jumped in, standing up and waggling a spoon angrily at the doctor.

"He's a king! Not a blasted cowman," Glenn snapped.

The doctor, taken aback by Glenn's outburst, turned to Erik and said with a fake smile, "My apologies, Your Majesty. I didn't mean any offence. I simply thought you could do with the money."

Erik coolly shrugged and replied, "Unfortunately, I don't know much about farming. I've spent most of my years fighting a war your ancestors ran away from."

The doctor stared back at Erik, speechless.

Thankfully, the door behind the bar swung open, and India appeared carrying two full English breakfasts.

"Is that young Rupert's finest pork sausages?" the doctor enquired.

India nodded, sliding the breakfasts in front of Glenn and Byron.

"I shall have one of those. I'm absolutely starving after tramping up and down that bloody river all night."

I led the doctor away from Erik to the far side of the bar. I sat the doctor down at the table nearest the fire and took his whole order. Glancing up from my notepad, I saw Erik staring daggers at the doctor. This was his first time encountering a villager who did not believe he was the King.

"Would you like brown or white toast with your breakfast," I asked the doctor.

"White toast, but please don't tell the missus. She's convinced that white bread is the stuff of the devil," the doctor replied.

I made a note of his order and then paused.

"Were you able to find out what happened to Eli?" I asked curiously.

"Oh, it was ridiculous. An absolute goose-chase, most likely orchestrated by Eli's mother. The woman is mad with grief. She calls us, screaming that you have taken Eli from the funeral home. So, we head to the funeral home and find Eli's body has gone. We look everywhere. The funeral home, the woods, the river, even the devil's house. We couldn't find his body anywhere, and it got to the point we were seriously considering contacting the police."

"Did you call the police?" I enquired.

"No, we didn't need to. Eli's sister calls us from the house. She's found Eli lying in his bed, covered in fresh blood," he said darkly.