Emma found herself admiring the stranger’s brain, her thinking patterns, the way she focused wholly on her work.

The latter was researching a disease, seemed obsessed with finding a cure. Perhaps that was why she often found her in the dimly lit room, covered in blood, her hands buried deep within a body. She was conducting experiments.

It didn't excuse the abomination of what she was, but Emma could admire her single-minded purpose. She was able to put aside her need for sleep, for sustenance, for long periods. She felt her need, but she concentrated so wholly on what she was doing, she didn't seem to recognize her body's cries...