With Rod's blood still fresh on her lips, Wynona could feel a high slam through her chest with unrelenting force. Adrenaline flooded her veins. The junkie's blood tasted bitter and sour, but it was her first blood, so it tasted better than any nector or ambrosia that could've been sent by the gods. 

The high fueled her instincts. She wanted to hunt. She wanted to fight. She wanted to kill. In the back of her mind, her human mentality was screeching at her to resist these new temptations. She stood from her kill and licked her lips. She turned to look back out the window, her curiosity peaking as her senses heightened. She could hear a police officer mutter to himself inside his car as if he stood next to her before his screams pierced her sensitive ears. She recoiled from the window, clutching her ears as the officer was murdered. His screams rung in her mind as her high slowly spoiled rotten into shivers running down her spine and an emptiness in her chest. More. She wanted more. 

Without thinking, she ran downstairs and onto the streets, waiting for more people to arrive. She didn't want the bodies; they weren't fresh and were not her kills.