Those glossy chestnut ringlets. Rosy cheeks and eyes that sparkled with a little too much wine. She was the perfect present for Dru.

At first, she went willingly, up for a little fun. She gasped when she saw his true face, like they all did.

But as he bent to bite her pallorous neck, her deep brown eyes locked on his. Suddenly, she was Cousin Emma and he was the scrawny poet with a reputation for being kind.

Her neck was like a ripe peach.

Afterwards, he carried the body home, and Dru trimmed the tree with the girl’s entrails.