Page 14 of Wild Wolf
"We just came up with a new song calledWerewolf Moon."
I shook my head. "No, we didn't."
"Yes, we did. It's cool as hell.” Styxx handed a piece of notebook paper to Jack. He’d scribbled lyrics in barely decipherable hieroglyphics.
"No time like the present to capitalize on the media buzz,” Styxx said.
"We are not profiting off someone else's tragedy," I said.
Styxx frowned. "I spent all morning working on those lyrics. It'll be a hit. I swear.”
I exchanged a look with Jack.
"We can at least give it a try," Styxx said. “It's not profiting off a tragedy. It's just a song for Halloween. I mean, I can write a song about vampires, ghouls, ghosts, goblins. Hell, I can write a song about a pumpkin, if it makes you feel better.”
"Let's give it a shot,” JD said. “See what it sounds like. It’s not like it’s about the crime.”
I was outnumbered on this one.
Jack went through some vocal warm-ups to get his voice in the zone. He studied the lyrics for a moment. Styxx clicked off the beat, and the guys in the band ran through the changes.
Jack listened, trying to find the melody, then started belting out lyrics. It was amazing to watch. Within a few minutes, they had worked their magic and plucked a song out of thin air. I had to admit, it was pretty good. I don't know if it would make it on an album or anything, but it would probably go over well at the Halloween show.
The groupies loved it.
There were smiles all around. Styxx beamed with pride in his work. "I’ve got another one.Vampire’s Kiss.”
"Let's rock it out!" Jack said.
Styxx handed him more lyrics, and after a few moments, the guys broke into a new song.
It was great, too.
The band ran through the set list of old favorites and new additions. Tight and punchy, Wild Fury rocked the tiny practice room for over an hour.
Afterward, JD treated the guys to dinner at the Bluewater Bistro. We feasted like kings on surf and turf, and there was much cheer. With full bellies, we blew off steam on Oyster Avenue, looking for the good kind of trouble.
It was about 9:00 PM when the sheriff called with the bad kind of trouble.
9
Lights flashed atop patrol cars in front of a Stingray Bay mansion. Curious neighbors gathered and gossiped. Deputies kept the crowd at bay.
Paris Delaney was already on the scene when we arrived.
Jack found a place to park behind the first responders. We hopped out and walked toward the chaos.
That big fat moon loomed large and bright overhead. A sense of dread twisted my stomach as I walked up the driveway of the McMansion.
“Don’t step in the blood,” a deputy cautioned as we approached. He shined his flashlight on the spot, and we walked around it.
The tiny drop tailed toward the street, indicating a forward motion.
JD and I continued up the driveway to the back door. Camera flashes spilled out as Dietrich chronicled the gruesome scene that had unfolded in the kitchen.
The home had an open floor plan, as did most in Stingray Bay. With high vaulted ceilings, the living room and kitchen area merged seamlessly. Large window walls offered a view of the patio, the pool, and the canal beyond. Lights from homes across the water flickered, reflecting in the inky channel.
The home had light gray hardwoods, black stainless steel appliances, and light walls. Imported marble countertops covered the kitchen and the island.
