Exactly My Type

Esme's footsteps already carried her close to the place where Vivienne had collapsed, knees on the ground, and her body wracked with sobs.

But just as she neared, she suddenly stopped.

For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to go any closer. As much as she longed to believe that this figure was truly her Vivienne, a chill swept over her.

The instincts honed within her warned her that something was amiss, and her hands clenched tightly at her sides, fighting the fierce pull to comfort her dear friend.

Instead, Esme retreated slowly, deliberately, and she stooped down to retrieve the Lycobane serum she had dropped, gripping it as though it were the only anchor holding her steady.

The real Vivienne would never become a demon. The Vivienne she knew would rather face death than allow herself to be twisted into one of these hollow, sickly creatures.