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Act 1

It was a black and starless night

When one could see a chilling sight.

Upon a road which the moon shone coy,

Met Demon Wolf and Demon Boy.

Death paused in his fell work grim,

And Jack made his living candle dim

To see things happen as they might

On that dark and cloudy night.

The sea was gripped in a gale strong and wild,

Just the night for Demon Beast and Demon Child.

All-Hallows Eve was on the air

And more than one creature came from its lair

To see what evil could be wrought

And what poor soul set out to rot.

From goblins, ghosts and ghouls,

To nameless things from pitch-black pools,

All came forth to witch and scare.

But all stopped to see the wolf were

And the fierce devil's son,

Those two, Demon Wolf and son of None.

Demon Wolf stood tall and grim,

With fur stained darker than Satan's sin.

From taloned paw to dripping maw,

None could withstand his fang and claw.

Driven by savage hate and hunger sharp,

He longed for living flesh to part.

Who was this to challenge him?

The son of a Fallen, a human mothered him.

Not even a demon in full-

A wretch, overlooked by a needed cull.

Demon Wolf felt his breath grow tight

At the thought of fresh meat tonight.

But the Demon Boy was in no mood to die.

He had come through fire and Raven's lie

To fight this foe, this heart to rend.

The wolf had hurt his angel friend.

Wide open had her body been laid,

And even now she had started to fade.

Compelled by love in vengeance's guise,

The lad held in his hand a werewolf's demise.

A weapon, a knife, a silver blade,

By the holy priests of God was it made.

Cast in moonlight full,

Tempered in a dragon's skull,

Wolfbane the dagger was named

And many beasts of the night had it claimed.

Would it serve a demon for this one act of good?

To save the one he loved, his enemy of flesh and blood?

Strange though their bond was,

A guardian angel, a faithful friend, not only because

Of a saved soul, turned lover to a lonely boy.

She would hold him in her arms, smiling at his hesitation coy,

And keep him from the rain with her feathered wings,

And at his request she would softly sing.

A song of good things he never had and so couldn't miss,

Until at last his eyes would close and his cheek she would kiss,

Having lulled him to sleep against her chest,

His head resting on her soft breast.

She fell by the light of the moon,

Wandering the seashore and the dunes.

Convinced him to come, she had not;

Secrets in the Dark instead he sought.

'Something is amiss,' he claimed,

'No such creature that I know could cause this maim.'

Found he earlier a man, hidden beneath the pier,

Body and limbs torn asunder, foul with the reek of fear.

There was one other scent he could not name;

Just out of reach, it eluded him, calling a game.

Home he walked then, thoughts in a whirl,

But nary a one to the girl.

Memory came to him as he stepped on the walk

And he knew what it was he sought.

It brought him no joy, only fear,

For he knew the beast to be near.

Searching, sniffing, as it slunk between the trees.

The angel knew it not; she thought it to be only the breeze.

All haste made in plight seem worthless to fight,

Demon-Boy thought as he dashed through the night.

Calling her name, he pelted over the sand,

Fumbling bullets into the gun in his hand.

He dropped them with a curse, and that's when he saw

His best friend's small form in the monster's maw.

Blood shone in the moonlight bright,

And his cry echoed throughout the night.

The wolf looked up from his kill

To see him coming down the hill.

With a rumbling snarl of a laugh he said,

Of you I'll soon be rid,

And I can enjoy a double-feast tonight.

But he spoke without knowledge of the boy's unholy rage;

The beast within was awaked, let out of its cage.

Left him did his control and right of mind,

All that was left was something he had hoped he left behind.

The darkest part of his soul made flesh,

His father's birthright, renewed afresh.

No escape for the wolf that dared to touch the claimed,

Bones and fur would be all that remained.

But the werewolf was no trembling fool,

Nor through weakness the night he had come to rule.

This stripling boy, this feral cat-

His neck he would snap like that of a rat's.