Disclaimer: I do not own Lord Loss.

And the Wolf Shall Lie Down With the Lamb
By Silver Sailor Ganymede

The demon's senses had come back to him that night, just like they always did around that time. The moon's evanescant light drifted across clowds and fields, illuminating the pastures but only causing the shadows to appear darker, more frightning… demonic even though he knew that he was the only demon there.

He hated this curse, this vile lust for blood that consumed him as wholly and completely as he often consumed his victims. The invaision of his mind had become as Hell upon Earth to him, though the only death he knew was the death of others. His mind did not die, nor did his body; both simply became twisted, mutilated to the highest degree possible until he himself was no longer anything even remotely human. He hated those times: the times when he knew things yet did not, where only the blood became him.

He padded across the damp grass into the woods, the chill of the night catching in his blood but not penetrating through to his skin. Nothing ever did when he became the beast: nothing was reality to him, only the bloodlust remained. He felt the rough bark of the trees scrape along his skin… not, his fur, and shook in order to brush the wood away.

It was then, as he paused, that he saw them for the first time. The shadows writhed in their prison between worlds, their faces hidden and their forms contorted with agony even more immense than what he felt. Then he saw that the shadows were not shadows, the noises he heard now were not of the forest. He let an inhuman growl come from his throat as his golden eyes narrowed.

The silence came again then passed as whoever lurked behind him moved again. He heard a gunshot and tried to speed off, but it was too late for that; the argentine vapor had been discharged from the gun and a bullet of pure silver had embedded itself into his side.

He screamed now, his voice having to it an immesly twisted timbre that lay somewhere between the screams of a torture victim and the howl of a wolf. He fell to the ground, the ruby liquid seaping from his side as he did so. His eyes widened as he saw the shadow above.

"And the wolf shall lie down with the lamb," a voice spoke, the words of the Bible somewhat harshly entoned in comparison to the norm.

"I am sorry, my son," he saw his father's face, the normally stern man's eyes being red and his ruddy face gaunt. So this was what had become of him, the beast that had taken from him his humanity, his life. That was the last thing he heard before his silver-laced end. Perhaps it is better to let death take the beast than to let the beast take others to their deaths… but perhaps not, who will ever know?