Ambrosial Spirits by The Lizard Queen, Araceli McMullin




I had never seen anyone who looked so sad, so forlorn in my entire existence. It clung to her, like a morning fog, turning her silhouette into an almost shapeless entity. But she was beautiful to me. There was simply no other words to describe it. She was beautiful. I licked my lips, hesitant in approaching her. I could feel her need for companionship, the need to have someone who spoke to her soul, who fed the dark impulses vibrating within her, but I stayed rooted to the spot. My body, the contemptible traitor, refused to obey any commands my mind tried giving it, so enraptured in the creature my attention fixated on.

She turned, and I felt my dead heart quicken, startling me. It had been so long since it drummed the familiar tattoo that for a moment, I felt fear. What was she? How could this be possible? She stared in my general direction, a subtle look of curiosity lacing her otherwise sorrowful features. I held my unneeded breath, ready to dash away the moment she took a step towards me. Did she realize that she was being watched? Did she sense the hunger I so keenly felt for her? My apprehension was for nothing, however, as she returned to watching the moonlight dance along the lapping waves of the river.

I released the trapped air in my lungs, and felt it whisper among the leaves of the elm trees I was hiding in. For a moment, I almost yearned for my deadened body to be alight with life, feel the expired blood course through my veins. Yet, I softly gasped at the thought. I enjoyed my static existence, was delighted in living in a never ending night. What was it about her, this lady of agony, that provoked such alien thoughts? I had no answers to give my churning mind and so resolved myself to continue watching, waiting.
She looked up at that moment, smiling as the moonlight illuminated her delicate face. Oh how I ached to stand before her and worship her very essence! How I wished to take her into my arms, and drain the vibrancy of life she so desperately hated. How I knew she felt this way, I could not say. But I knew it with every breath she took, every whisper in the wind.

She longed to die.

I could not let that happen. She was too pure, too decadent for something so mundane as death. This world may not have deserved to have such a somber angel walk among the putrid filth it possessed, but oh how it deserved to have her in all of her horrific revenge.
The glint of moonlight reflecting off a blade recalled me from my dark thoughts. In my musings, she dropped to her knees, unsheathed a knife that was hidden somewhere on her person, and held it hovering over her left wrist as though hesitant to complete the act she came here to do. My keen ears heard her soft cries, heard the gentle tears cascade into the grass below her, and felt my ancient soul shatter into countless tears to join her own. It was excruciating. It was exquisite in its pain.

“I can hear you….” her voice whispered into the night. I stood, paralyzed by her words, among the elms and waited to hear more of her melodic voice. I should have been concerned over the exposure, but there was none. The moment the sound of her voice echoed into my mind, I was hers, mind, body and soul. And in the moment following that realization, I knew she was mine. Forever.

I would make her mine, one way or another.

Still, I remained within my hidden perch, continuing my silent vigil of her. She sighed, her frustration a living thing in the soft breeze, and spoke once more, “I know you are there.” My lips parted, ready to say something, anything to my mournful goddess, but the words didn’t form. I was so taken aback, so shocked by the beauty of her voice that I could not speak. Slowly, she moved the poised blade from her wrist and let the hand holding it fall to her side. My useless breath caught raggedly in my silent chest. She stopped her pursuit of finding oblivion? Why? Not that I would have let her complete the task, but her doing so would have been the invitation for something so loathsome a creature as me to transform her beauty into something truly timeless. So why?

She finally rose from her kneeling position and headed in the direction of the trees where I hid. My body instinctively moved into a crouch, the predator within me ready to pounce the moment she walked into the tree line. The hunger writhed inside of me as the rushing of blood in her veins became a deafening roar filling my ears. Yes, my beloved, yes. Come to me and sacrifice your life force for my own. Yes….

No. That was not the only thing I desired or needed. I wanted to see her become alive in undeath, see her fury envelop the world, drenching it in the sticky sustenance we would so desperately crave together. It would be magnificent. Glorious. Two hunters in a never ending journey for prey. And oh, how I longed for that hour to arrive. Her steps drew her nearer and nearer to me, and I practically salivated at the scent of her delicious blood. Soon, she would be mine and the longing I felt for her would end in a savage fury of lustful fantasy.

“Please don’t be silent, hunter. I have what you crave. What you want. What you need,” she spoke to me once again. My world was utterly destroyed in that instant. In the next, it was recreated in the image of her dark fantasy. She knew. She knew! What was this? My mind raced, insanity clouding my sense of restraint. There were no others like me on this forsaken planet, I was the very last of my kind! Our existence caricatured by thousands of pathetic mediums, turned into idiotic fantasies for bored house wives and deranged men. How? How could she know? “I’ve been waiting for you….my whole life,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. She was so very close to me now, one step, two and she’d be before me.

I snarled into the still night, a warning to her to stay back. My yearning for her essence was so great that I was frightened that she’d expire before I could transform her into the being that most reflected the ambrosial spirit trapped in human wrappings. She never hesitated. Her steps never faltered. Before me stood the only being that would ever sing to this decrepit soul that lay trapped inside a mockery of life itself. She was even more enamoring up close, than I previously thought. The delicate way her features coalesced together to form the heart shaped face, the slender bow of her shoulder, carefully hidden behind the thin fabric of her blouse. The subtle rise and fall of her chest, quick as though she felt the same kind of exhilaration I felt when I looked upon her.

“Please. Take what you need. I cannot stand this world any longer. At least this way, my death will mean something,” she said to me, sorrowfully, pleading with me to do the task of ending her short life instead of forcing her to do it herself. This was too much to bear. The lovely carotid artery pumping in a steady rhythm, teasing me with its song, begging me to sink my fangs deep and devour. I could hold back no longer. In a flash I was upon her prone body, and gently, with a lover’s grace, I held her and bit into the pliable flesh of her neck.

It was like drinking liquid fire, her blood was. Instantly, I felt my body come alive in an onslaught of sensations that had long been forgotten. The sluggish dead lifeforce within my own veins slowly began to circulate as life was breathed into my long dead heart that haphazardly started to beat. The feeling of it was so foreign, so alien to me that I gasped against her skin. What was she? How could something be even possible for someone who had felt the kiss of death so long ago? I hesitated slightly, worried over what was becoming of me, but her essence was so pure, so invigorating… so addicting that I could not stop myself from engorging on her.

She moaned into the quiet night, a soft look of happiness spreading across her face. She looked divine. She looked alive. As the realization of that struck me, that despite the increasing loss of blood, she looked more and more alive than she had before approaching me, I began to feel scared. Truly afraid for the first time. What. Was. She? She smiled, a small, yet cruel pulling of the lips as the beating of my heart grew louder and stronger. Yet I could still not pull away from her, and continued to drink.
My body became alight with… life. Pure, unimaginable life. I was no longer the creature I had been. I was alive. The last of my kind erased. Panic washed over me as I realized what that meant. What she meant. I finally released her from my grasp, and stared at her stunned. What should have been a lifeless corpse heaped on the ground, stood a woman of such majesty, such splendor, that for the briefest of moments, I knew I stood before a Goddess. She smiled at me, and said, “Live now. Live. For life has many other pleasures beyond those of blood. Beyond those of the flesh.


Be wicked.

Be holy.



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