Best New Werewolf Tales (Vol. 1) Read Free Page A

won’t?”
    “I can be pretty convincing.”
    “But what if he won’t? What if he’s—I don’t know—too crazy to listen to reason?”
    I smiled. “Then we’ll explore other options.”
     
    * * *
     
    The Crypt is a big ugly building on the corner of South and Fourth in Philadelphia. Once upon a time it was a coffin factory – which I think would have been a cooler name. Less trendy and obvious. The light snow did nothing to make it look less ugly. When we pulled to the corner, Mrs. Skye pointed to a sleek silver Lexus parked on the side street.
    “That’s his.”
    I jotted down the license plate and used my digital camera to take photos of it and the exterior of the building. You never know.
    “Okay,” I said, “I want you to wait here. I’ll go have a talk with David and see if we can sort this out.”
    “What if something happens? What if you don’t come out?”
    “Just sit tight. You have a cell phone and I’ll give you the keys. If I’m not out of there in fifteen minutes, drive somewhere safe and call the name on the back of my card.” I gave her my business card. She turned it over and saw a name and number. Before she could ask, I said, “Ray’s a friend. One of my pack.”
    “Another private investigator?”
    “A bodyguard. I use him for certain jobs, but I don’t think we’ll need to bring him in on this. From what you’ve told me I have a pretty good sense of what to expect in there.”
    As I got out my jacket flap opened and she spotted the handle of my Glock.
    “You’re not… going to hurt him,” she asked, wide eyed.
    I shook my head. “I’ve been doing this for a lot of years, Mrs. Skye. I haven’t had to pull my gun once. I don’t expect I’ll break that streak tonight.”
     
    * * *
     
    The breeze was coming from the west and the snow was just about done. I squinted up past the streetlights. The cloud cover was thin and I could already see the white outline of the moon. Nope, no accumulation. Typical Philly winter.
    I crossed the street and tried the front door. Place didn’t do much business before late evening, but the doors were unlocked. The doors opened with an exhalation of cigarette smoke and alcohol fumes. There was probably an anti-smoking violation in that. Something else to use later if I needed to go the route of making life difficult for him.
    It was too early for a doorman, and I walked a short hallway that was empty and painted black. Heavy black velvet curtains at the end. Cute. I pushed them aside and entered the club. Place was huge. David Skye must have taken out the second floor and knocked out everything but the retaining walls of the adjoining properties. The red and white maximum occupancy sign said that it shouldn’t exceed four hundred, but the place looked capable of taking twice that number. Bandstand was empty, so someone had put quarters in to play the tuneless junk that was beating the shit out of the woofers and tweeters. Whoever the group was on the record they subscribed to the philosophy that if you can’t play well you should play real god damn loud.
    There were maybe twenty people in the place, scattered around at tables. A few at the bar. Everyone looked like extras from a direct-to-video vampire flick. The motif was black on black with occasional splashes of blood red. White skin that probably never saw the sun. Eyeliner and black lipstick, even on the guys. I was in jeans and a Vikings warm-up jacket. At least my sneakers and my leather porkpie hat were black. Handle of my gun was black, too, but they couldn’t see that. Better for everyone if nobody did.
    The bartender was giving me the look , so I strolled over to him. He knew I wasn’t there for a beer and didn’t waste either of our time by asking.
    “David Skye,” I said, having to bend forward and shout over the music.
    “Badge me,” he said.
    I flipped open my PI license. “Private.”
    “Fuck off,” he suggested.
    “Not a chance.”
    “I can call the