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Cordelia Chase is dead. The demon that replaced her takes its first breath. Blood, sweat, fear, food.
Her sire stands in front of her; a petite vampire in black with long red hair and an eager smirk. “Hopefully she’ll make a better vampire than a human, not that it’s saying much.”
“She’s not bad looking.” Her sire’s companion strokes a finger along Cordelia’s chin.
Somewhere deep inside, Cordelia feels a twist of longing and anger. She remembers them. The betrayal, the shame. How ironic that her sire wears the shell of the one who ruined everything in the first place.