The widow visited the grave of where all her lovers lay. The night cold and lit by moonlight. She wept tears as rich as the blood that once brightened the faces of the men she loved. She would always live forever in the realm of man, the immortality she couldn’t pass onto them. So, she’d always walk alone no matter how many lovers she took over the centuries. And though she woke them this time from their graves, they were nothing but puppets eager to do their vampire widow’s bidding.