A Gothic façade by gaslight glow,
H waits within the moon-made shadow
Down the steps to sidewalk, V alights.
Past witching hour on a silent night
Fang of a wolf, but suit of wool
Behind the eyes, there lacks a soul.
Walking with purpose, V’s thirst, it grows.
In V’s evil wake, a murder of crows
Behind, H sneaks armed with blade and stake
H’s fear swells; old hunting wounds ache.
H stays in the ink, far out of sight.
Hunter and hunted, creatures of the night
“Caw,” the call shatters a benighted peace.
Their master grins; their cries to do cease.
Knowing V’s old nemesis is stalking him,
he slinks into an alley, cobbled and dim.
Plunging into darkness, H duly pursues.
Blade out, head from body, intending to hew
H finds only vapors that stink of brimstone
What’s that? A weak but ominous groan
Then piercing the night, an ears-splitting scream
A lass awakes into nightmare from a deep dream
H sprints, splintering his way through a door,
bounding up stairs up to the second floor
H kicks in the door marked by shrill cry
Twin oozing punctures, life fading from eyes
Leaping at the devil, H is slapped to the wall
from a mangled arm the blade droops, then falls
V leaps upon H to end his prey days,
but a pain in V’s heart begins to blaze
H’s good hand thrust a stake secretly hidden
H stands, no rest when one’s city is vampire-ridden.