She was the epitome of grace and style. The ultimate lady of luxury, and those who looked upon her saw a woman, at the top of the ladder. Lady Elizabeth Montague was kind, rich and beautiful, and society loved her.

Men and women alike would gaze transfixed as she all but glided upon the floor, and listen with rapt attention as her silvery voice wove threads of wisdom and the barest hint of seduction through her audience.

But there were a few that suspected that the fair lady was not all that she seemed, that she couldn’t possibly be that perfect, that dear Lady Elizabeth must have some dark and bizarre secret that she was concealing.

But they’d never see, when the moon was out, and she was all alone, how her eyes glittered with malice, a paler shade of grey than they were in public view, and with blood dripping, oh so slowly, down her chin as she raises her face from an unsuspecting meal. Alone…except for the man she’d lured to gain sustenance from. It would be too bad, that he’d never see a sunrise again.

She disposed of the trash, and when she would appear, only minutes later, to her guests, she would be once again the icon of her generation, beloved by all, who saw a guileless beacon of society.