Dylan Dog: Dead of Night Page #2

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the mind can play tricks.

Don't give me that crap.

I saw it with my own eyes.

It was huge, thick fur, massive claws.

Sorry, but an investigator

isn't the type of help you need.

I knew you were bullshit.

We'll be in touch. Sorry for your loss!

Thank you for your time.

Damn it, Dylan! What the hell, man?

That girls in trouble.

No, that girl is trouble.

It's not our problem.

Sure. Her father's dead.

She's traumatized.

She's all alone. She needs our help!

Drop it, Marcus. End of discussion.

Okay, stop, listen. Hold on, all right?

Dylan, listen.

This is the first real

case we've seen in years.

Okay, someone who

actually needs our help.

This is exactly what I'm talking about.

Something different, something better!

Don't you want that?

- No, I don't.

- No, you don't.

Because things in life

don't get better, all right?

They either stay the same,

or they get a lot worse.

Five, 10, 20 years from now,

I want every day to be the same.

That's my plan. See you tomorrow.

Good plan. Good. All right.

Yeah, I'll see you tomorrow.

I'll just walk then?

"No pulse? No problem."

What?

That doesn't even make any sense.

Corpus House, the hottest club in town.

A vampire den selling the new

drug absolutely everyone wants.

Keeps you up all night, gives

you the strength of 10 men.

It makes you feel like

you could live forever.

Leave it to vampires to market

their own blood as a thrill ride.

- How much?

- 450.

You've had enough already, Roddy.

I'll let you know when

I had enough, okay?

Roddy!

Roddy!

Shut up!

Yeah!

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

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