Drusilla looked breakable because she had been broken. But she'd also been repaired. Patchily and clumsily and dangerously, yes, but she'd been repaired. She was swift and sharp and far more dangerous than her pale limbs and wide eyes would suggest.

When Ruby started forward, Drusilla - laughing aloud, as if it was a marvelous game - stepped up to meet her. Her face shifted. A subtle, hungry shift. She continued to smile.

"I saw it in his head. Your puppy's head."