Milky-white liquid pooled around her feet, dripping from her soaked dress, her long hair, and her claws to mix with the red flowing at her feet. Bright light pierced her vision, cutting and clawing at her brain. The beast hissed.
Squinting through the glare, she bent over the body and bit the artery, chewing at the flesh a few times before letting the blood flow into her mouth. Warm, sweet and metallic. She closed her eyes and continued to drink, the insistent drumming in her temples slowly subsiding as her hunger abated. It wasn’t until the feeling of static in her mouth diminished that she opened her eyes again. The light still hurt her eyes, but she willed herself to ignore it. Dropping the body, she looked around the strange room.
The stone sarcophagus sat on a low table, the carvings faded and chipped, paints faded from the passage of time. She frowned. The glyphs along the rim depicting the seal that had held her in sleep were scratched and cracked, as if chiseled away by a tool. A quick look at the silver tables and trays showed chisels, wedges, and levers. Strange boxes that glowed with foreign inscriptions sat nearby, some showing a record of something and others holding images of her sleeping figure within the sarcophagus.
A wet cough rattled from the floor near the doorway. She turned to see the figure curling in on themselves as they regained consciousness.
Another meal for us to feed.
A grin spread her thin lips, her fangs protruding further from the gums more than normal. She pounced. Her prey gasped as she sank her teeth into their neck, the woman twitched and then lay still. The beast watched as her life faded from her eyes one bloody mouthful at a time. She drank everything, blood and soul, before letting the woman fall to the smooth tiled floor.
More. I must have more.
She raised her fist and smashed it down on the woman’s rib cage, hearing the crack and snap of bones collapsing. Tearing open fabric and flesh, she reached into the woman’s chest cavity and pulled out her heart. Tearing it from the body, she bit down on it like an apple, sucking out the remaining drops of blood.
As she ate, she stood and moved around the room. Hers was not the only item in the room. There were pots and bowls, whole sections of walls from the temples with depictions of the Izacacus and the humans. Slowly, the memories of the souls melded with her own and the language and understanding of her surroundings emerged. She had no contact for the name “museum” but the speculations of the items did make sense. She stopped by the box-- something the memories called a “computer”-- and frowned at the inscriptions. Words like “temple,” “goddess,” and “priestess” jumped out at her.
A noise from beyond the room brought her out of her concentration. Running footsteps approaching the cramped room.
Another meal. We must give thanks to whoever arranged this feast.
The door burst open. A stocky man in a uniform stumbled over the woman’s body, an exclamation escaping his lips as his eyes snapped up to the rest of the room. His gaze landed on the tall figure. “Freeze!” He pulled something from his belt and aimed it at her.
Gun. Protect. Danger. The souls’ memories were still too fragmented to make complete sense. She turned to face this strange guard. “You dare threaten me, human?” She raised an arm.
The man fired. A loud explosion, like a large fire cracker in a mountain pass, split the air. Pain seared through her shoulder. The beast roared. She held her shoulder and stumbled back a step. Thick, dark blood, almost black with rot, trickled from the small hole.
“I said freeze, mother fucker!” His voice shook as he lowered one hand to reach for something in his pocket.
She turned on him. Blood burning. She reached out her hand. Bone spears shot from her arm and buried themselves into the man’s body. He screamed, dropping the gun. The spears dug deep, swelling as they soaked up blood, feeding it back to her arm. Arteries, heart and liver, even bone marrow. Her eyes rolled back into her skull as she drained him, listening to his short, desperate gasps for air. He collapsed. She continued to drink and absorb until the body was reduced to a leathery skeleton. Slowly the spears returned to her arm, melting back into her skin.
Still hungry.
I know, pet. Let us find some proper clothes and then we can continue this hunt.
Walking from the room, she looked at the tall ceiling with shelves full of crates. Pulling one of the crates to the edge of the shelf, she shifted through the boxes to find a book with a pale, leather cover. Her breath caught in her throat and she snatched the book from the crate, holding it close to her chest like an old friend. The memories were coming a little faster now. She followed them through another set of doors to find a smaller room with small cubicles. A quick search of them found some clothes that fit, though they were far from the gowns she was used to.
Adapt. Survive.
Yes, my dear. We will adapt and survive. Best to proceed with caution until we know more.
Once dressed, she picked up the book, running her long nails over the cracked cover before putting it in one of the bags. She slung the strap over her shoulder and followed the memories out of the building.
The night air was thick and cool, the trees bare or their leaves changing from orange to brown. Looking up at the sky, she realized the stars had faded. How odd. Choosing a direction, she walked along a path that followed a larger road. Loud noises nearby drew her away from the “museum” and towards the bustling center of a strange city. She winced at the drumming headache in her temples.
Follow the scent of our prey.
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