by Phil Brucato "Give it to me!!" The cry, more snarl than words, rips through the basement air like claws through old burlap. Sean spins, sees, staggers as though he were struck. oh shit…. The old ancestor. A ghost of a wolf. An Eater of Children. "Give me the brat." The lupine thing, twice a man’s height, bends low in the basement gloom and extends a sharp-taloned paw toward Sean. Behind it, the flames of Malfeas cast a green pallor across matted fur. In the darkness, its eyes burn with inner hells. To hand it Ryan. His son, the monster. oh jesus, what a mess, what a mess this must look like….