Dylan Dog: Dead of Night Page #2

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Vargas.

There was a werewolf murder last night.

An importer named Alfred Ryan. Civilian.

People die, Lorca. Get over it.

This one's different.

Apparently, the wolves at Port

Authority caught wind of something

being brought over from the old country.

The Heart.

Go check it out.

Goddamn breathers.

Hotshot. Party's over.

I'm just getting started.

Yeah!

Someone needs a timeout.

Carry on.

Hey, Dylan.

Hey, man, I wanted to

apologize for earlier.

I shouldn't have said

all that stuff, man.

I mean, it's not my business, and I

feel like I overstepped my boundaries.

So, I'm sorry.

And I'm sure you're right, too.

She was probably just a nut job,

some kind of whack-a-mole.

What was she talking about, anyway?

I mean, it was like something,

some big beast with big fangs and big...

Marcus?

Marcus?

All right. Let's see what we got.

Jesus Christ!

Is it me, or does it look like something

took a bite outta this guy?

Sorry.

With all the dead bodies

I'd seen in my day,

you'd think this would've been easier.

But it wasn't.

Marcus was my friend.

I thought I'd left my

past behind, but sometimes,

it has a way of sneaking up and

punching you square into the present.

It was time to get back to work, fast.

Thought you said I was crazy.

What made you change your mind?

My friend was murdered last night.

Oh, I'm sorry. Who would do that?

Not a who. A what. Whatever

killed wasn't human.

Someone was watching your house.

Someone who wanted to

scare me off your case.

So, you're taking the case?

Maybe.

What killed my father?

A werewolf.

A werewolf? Like in the movies?

Yes and no.

They're not just in Grandma's

cabin out in the woods.

Or only in London. They're here, in

the city, living and working among us.

Most have learned to control the

change, to control the beast inside.

But sometimes the beast

gets loose and you get...

Well, this.

What did your father do for a living?

He was an importer.

I don't know what you're

gonna find in the house.

The police have been all over the place.

Did they check the trees?

The trees?

Werewolves love to use trees.

Most of the earliest European cases

of lycanthropy took place near forests.

Jackpot.

Fascinating.

It's very high-tech.

Undead investigation is old-school.

This is a female werewolf hair,

between her second and third coat

which means she's probably about 18.

That thing was a woman?

That thing was a girl.

What are those?

Hair samples.

The most common way to become a

werewolf is through inheritance.

Like a genetic disorder, it's

passed down from parent to child.

These families, like any Wolf pack,

have identifying colours in their coats.

There are four werewolf

clans in the city.

And they're pretty territorial,

like the mob, so...

...this girl has to be from one of them.

Damn it.

What?

Hey.

What's the problem?

The Cysnos Meatpacking Plant.

Owned and operated by

the Cysnos werewolf clan.

I was hoping I was wrong about

them being mixed up in all of this.

Gabriel and I go way back.

But you know what they

say about werewolf hair.

It doesn't lie.

The thing about Werewolves is

that they don't take too well,

at being accused of murder.

Especially the ones they commit.

Only ten pounds.

You shouldn't be sneaking around.

People might get the wrong idea.

Well, then, it's a good thing

that I'm the only people here.

How's the family, Gabriel?

Excellent. Thank you for asking.

Can you even imagine what it means

for you to walk through

those gates again?

After what happened?

They call you a monster hunter now.

You either have to be really

brave or completely crazy,

to come out of retirement.

Don't worry.

I'm still retired.

Just on one case.

A murder.

A human named Alfred Ryan.

Alfred Ryan. Alfred Ryan.

This name should mean something to me?

I don't know. You tell me.

Someone in your clan killed him.

Accuse one of my family

and you accuse me.

You should know that.

Or have you travelled that

far from the man I once knew?

Hey, I stayed away.

It's your world that came knocking.

And now someone close to me is dead.

Again.

Sorry.

Is this Mara?

How old is she? 17? Must be

on her second coat by now.

Watch yourself, boy.

Out of respect for our past,

I won't kill you where you stand.

You better leave. The others

might not be as understanding.

Cassandra was a beautiful girl.

What happened to her was a tragedy,

but I don't think she

would have wanted this.

And what exactly is "this"?

You, stirring up old

ghosts in her honour.

Cassandra.

I hadn't heard her name

out loud in a long time.

You should've never came back.

You're not welcome here

anymore, little pig.

Wolfgang. Still sore

about our last fight?

My father should've never stuck his

neck out for you with the Truebloods.

He should've let you

roast like I told him to.

You're nothing but a lousy breather.

You hit like a vampire.

You know the last time I tasted human?

They say we ain't allowed no more...

But hey,

rules were meant to be broken.

Oh, that's right. You're not

a big fan of silver, are you?

After shooting the breeze with Wolfgang,

I went to check out the address

I'd found in Gabriels office.

Ten pounds of meat

wasn't much of an order.

Maybe it was being

delivered to a single person.

Maybe someone in hiding.

And sure enough, I hit pay dirt.

I found the monster that

killed my client's father.

Mara?

The bad news? It was

Mara, Gabriels daughter.

That's not a wolf bite.

So, is it over?

Not even close. She was

tortured before she was killed.

Well, that's good. No, not good.

I need to know why.

What are you talking about?

That monster deserved to die.

Lines are being crossed,

the kind that end up starting a war.

Which is why I need to know,

what was your father into?

Now, you listen to me very carefully.

I told you everything.

No, you listen to me.

When I talk about a war,

I don't mean the kind

that you see on the news.

It'll be here, in the

streets, and it'll be bloody.

And before long, that blood

will lead right back here to you.

And when it does, no one

will be able to save you.

Not even me.

Fine.

Okay.

I think I better just show you.

My father told me about this book,

just in case anything

ever happened to him.

After the other night, I checked it.

The objects in this book are

worth around two million dollars.

None of it was touched.

Except for this one artefact.

This one I can't find.

And why didn't you

tell anyone about this?

The things in this book

are not meant for customs.

Your father was a smuggler.

You don't understand.

Somebody like you wouldn't understand.

I don't want anybody to know about this.

Not the police, not anybody.

Because that's not the way

I want him to be remembered.

He was my father.

What is it?

Kill the lights.

Come on!

Let's go!

This way!

Come on!

Dylan?

Where's the Heart?

Dylan!

Get in.

What the hell was that?

Magnesium flare. Burns with

the same intensity as sunlight.

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