She liked secrets. She smiled at her clients, allowing them to say what they would in the (presumed) privacy of her bed while she planned precisely where--at the store, outside the church, in an unsigned letter--she would let them slip. She the queen, they the pawns. Checkmate.

When Liam stared at her with hungry eyes in an alleyway, she let her hunger show as well. But it was not the same as his; he wanted her body, she wanted his blood, and maybe the soul he was soon to lose. Queen's black knight. When Drusilla whined and whimpered her visions in the dark of the night, she nodded seriously, then told Angel and William. Angel laughed, William was outraged for Dru's sake as well as fascinated. Dru's sulks and tears at the betrayal were amusing, and vanished quickly through the gaps in her ragged mind.

Every secret is the opening gambit in a new game, a new way to manipulate the world around her. Now Darla wonders, a hand resting on her swollen belly and feeling an unfamiliar flutter, if she is the secret now. And if she will be betrayed, kept, or made to change the gameboard.