The blood flowed hot, salty and full of life. When she had drained away every last drop, Drusilla pulled away from the young girl in her arms, and stared upwards at the moon peeking from between the sky scrapers of New York City. Her mouth curled in a mockery of a smile, her sharp teeth filled with gore.
"How the stars sing to me tonight Miss Edith," the vampiress thrilled at the porcelain doll, which sat not two feet away, glass eyes staring straight ahead. Dropping the used and empty body onto the dirty ground, the ridges on Drusilla's face smoothed as her fangs retracted; she licked away the last few drops of blood clinging to her lips. Her pale hands reached for the tiny ones of the antique doll, pulling it into a strange waltz that flowed from the bowels of the alley onto the busy streets of Times Square. The dress she wore swished gaily in the evening breeze, droplets of blood already drying and becoming invisible against the scarlet fabric.
"We have a new Daddy who has come to play!" Drusilla cried out in joy, not giving a whit about the stares of passerbys, all who hastily drew themselves further away from the raving, beautiful woman.
"Such horrors he brings Miss Edith," the mad and old vampiress whispered to the doll which she had drawn close to her chest. She looked upwards again in rapt wonder, and murmured, "Such beautiful madness."
Overhead, the cold blinking light of a plane streaked through the sky, onwards to its final resting place.