Lies. From the moment they turned her, it was all lies. She should've known, but a newly-turned's head is filled with nothing but haze. Haze. And hunger.
Those Talon bastards had this planned all along. There was no way she could have successfully turned Gérard, nor was that ever their intent. She was foolish to think for a moment that she could help sate the boiling blood feud between the
hunter and the warmongering vampires by becoming one of them. Who could guess that an honest housewife's desperate attempt to save her husband would inevitably kill him herself?
A 'tragedy' was all they ever called it. The coven 'Talon' merely welcomed her with open arms, calling her complete transformation within a fortnight a success. Mysteriously, the woman who murdered her husband disappeared from the surface.
Now nicknamed Widowmaker, the coven enforcers gave the order for her man-killing tendencies to be nourished, effectively letting her deal with local hunters that dared to threaten their existence. All in exchange for all the blood she could drink
and a safe haven for a monster like herself. Little by little, her humanity dissipated into an unrelelenting thirst to feel blood coat her fangs and the life drain from her prey's eyes.
Identify. Follow. Attract. Kill. Repeat. So went the routine that the widow has mastered for decades. The night served as her ally and accomplice; it bathed her surroundings in darkness. The moonlight's glow brightened her stained
skin, presenting the illusion that her complexion was not so cold. And even still, he was still able to see through it. Her cover was almost broken instantly and she fled, leading her pursuer out into the woods. According to routine,
she would do as predators do and take him down by surprise. But a realization awakened within her which halted her hunter's instinct: he was just like him.
Sharp decisive heels scraped against bark as the vampire sat perched on a high branch, red irises gleaming as they searched frantically for her target. Ah, there he is. Her gaze lingered on him much longer than they had on others, her pupils dilated and constricted repeatedly. The way he holstered his weapon. The way he planted each step. The way his eyes narrowed acutely in his search. Everything about him screamed at her, beckoning to her former benevolence. Everything that he was derailed her concentration and malicious intents. In all her years of shedding carnage, never before has a human had her this transfixed.
Fast flurries of footsteps on the grass broke her out of her trance. She had forgotten. Tonight's mission was unlike no other in another respect, for the hunter that she was told to deal with had extraordinary skill which called for backup. Being as arrogant as she was, she approached her task as usual, determined that she would carry out her kill alone. But she didn't. And so now came her brothers and sisters who rushed to her aid.
But this had to stop. At whatever cost, she had to put an end to this. She couldn't let this tragedy happen again. Leaping from her post she landed effectively in front of the human, leaving her back to him and stopping her comrades in their tracks. "WIDOW, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" they bellowed in protest. Outstretching her tattooed arm, lowering her stance, and stamping her foot, she became a large, snarling barricade between them. "Leave him alone! I told you--he's mine!"