Drusilla considered becoming a vampire to be a gift. It was a shame, really, that her brief experience with a soul had left no lasting imprints. She'd brushed it aside, swept it away like Cinderella's ashes as she jumped out of the fire and into her pumpkin coach. She was a wicked thing. She reveled in being a wicked thing. Being born from the soil was the best thing to ever happen to her. She thanked Daddy for it every day.

(Or would have, if he hadn't ran away and stuffed his ears with something new to keep her words away.)

What was good about being human? Humans were brittle. Humans were liars. Humans were sinners. Pretending to be good didn't make you good, oh no. Drusilla could see. She had wide eyes and a keen nose. She could see.

"I like hide and seek."