Slick silver smile, dark deep eyes. Teeth that grin and gut and ivory claws. They call him handsome, before he slits their throats with a weeping leer. They call him a shadow, because essentially, that's all he is; both shade and shady, a follower, a stalker, gone when the midday sun bares its glaring white eye. When it's dark he's everywhere at once.
When she commissions him with a plea, he decides not to kill her. She promises not richness- she has none- nor fame- he has that already, even if no one knows his face. It's the promise of freedom that lures him. The death of an age-old enemy; the open position of new devil on the block.