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The days were blurring together, now.
She wasn't sure when she had first realized the truth. Had it been after that first battle, when she had been so desperate for blood that she had bled herself? Had it been when she had revealed herself as the monster she was, and been made more welcome in the Division as a result, and fed off a volunteer? Or had it been that first time in the Alamo, when she had truly given into her thirst, and feasted on the flesh of the Texans? At some point though, the changes had come to her again, and it had become clear. She was no vampire.
Oh, she could try and tell herself that Pancho Villa was still right, that she merely took after some of the less glamorous parts of the lineage, but she no longer felt the need for that particular self-deception. Vampires were monsters. She was a beast. No, La Chupcabra had marked her, had chosen her for its curse. Or, perhaps, she considered, its blessing. She was not pretty, not anymore--beauty had long since abandoned her as her skin grew tough, her hair knotted and unkempt, and her face became unmistakably that of a predator--but she was powerful, stronger at her baseline than others were after downing a full bottle of shine. They were so weak, so slow, so fragile. Not to be underestimated, no, especially with Shine and firearms in their hands, but when she looked at them now she could not help but note their softness, consider what their taste might be. And it was wonderful.
She was free now. All her previous life, she had been afraid of La Chupacabra, the beast that was unstoppable. And now that was her. What could she possibly have left to fear? She was strong, and the Texans were weak. And so she would prey upon them, for such was the way of the world. It was only right. But for now, she held herself--beast she might be, but that did not make her stupid. She had a duty to Pancho Villa, the man she admired and respected. He had helped to free her from her fear, had shown her what she could be, and teased forth her potential. No, she would hunt at his command. For now, there were enemies to be devoured, and after the war, she would take the hunting ground she had been promised and respect its boundaries. Sometimes she laughed at the absurdity of it--Margareta, La Chupacabra, Mayor of... ah, Houston would be nice. The wolf, guarding the flock! But then, what rancher didn't eat beef? Perhaps this was not so strange as it seemed.
The future was looking bright indeed.