Meredith is a hot mess’s Reviews > Die by the Drop > Status Update

“Catch you on the flip side, Evie.”

“You’re too human for your own good, Evie. Your guilt over killing weaker creatures is pedestrian as fuck. You think leopards feel guilt for stalking and enjoying their meat?”
“I think if the leopard could feel the pain their prey feels, they would. That moment of terror, the last breath before their eyes go cold? Yes, they’d feel guilt. I think you would, too.”
“All I feel is hard."

I am the fount, the bearer of life. Drink of life, as I drink of death. Drink of me. Drop by drop—
This dance between Jesse and I seemed as simple as predator and victim, and yet, maybe we’d stumbled onto more in these woods. Maybe this push and pull between us had always been ancient and primordial. Unavoidable.

Their bodies said prayers to some familiar deity wearing an unfamiliar face, and the deity answered with pleasure amidst the pain.
Women like me made offerings of the blood tide rising and falling between their thighs, feeding beasts with the promise of life. The beasts fed and their bloodlust abated. At least for a while, at least enough to seek something greater than the kill.

Predators lay their heads on the bare breasts and thighs of witches and wept like me, cleansing themselves in the waters of forgiveness. Tears as sweet as honeysuckle were kissed from the cheeks of the creatures who cried like Jesse cried now. Men lay with men and women lay with women without judgment or fear. Couples writhed like supplicants to the heavens.

No, a memory, coded into me like a chain in my DNA, rose to the surface of my mind. I smelled ancient smoke and bonfires and sweat. Bodies everywhere heeding the call of the moon, bodies splayed under the stars, feasting on all the foods vibrant life can provide.
Lust.
Blood.
Connection.

“This used to nourish us like mother’s milk. But they took it from us.” Jesse’s voice rose on the wind, but carried a weight unlike his own. “We’ve wandered, lost and alone, ever since.” He spoke nonsense but his nonsense triggered something something deep and yearning in me.
A vision, sweet and primal. A fantasy.

“It’s like I’ve been drinking grape juice all this time, and now I’ve had a taste of wine. You taste like nothing else. Like heaven.”

“What is it about you, witch?” he whispered. He met my gaze and I became undone by the wonder in his black eyes, by the tears brimming on his lower lashes. One of those tears fell on my check. He closed his eyes, lowered his face to nuzzle my neck, and asked again, “What is it about you, Evie?”

Jesse groaned as he scented my blood on the air. He lifted his head and breathed deep, just above my face. His expression, the tilt of his head, put me in mind of a bloodhound. Every time my heart tricked me with emotion, my mind pointed to proof Jesse would always be the lion to my lamb.