Grease clogged his nostrils, the air was laden with it. Berrick leaned back in the seat and poked at the gelatinous pie in front of him. The waitress a tired middle aged woman was busy on the other side of the diner. A stained rag in her hand smearing some clean-all substance across the tables.

Berrick looked at the files again. On top of the Drambish files, lay another set covered in looping handwritten letters. Sometime after disembarking, the documents were slipped in his bag. The Intel came from Allison— who else? The copious notes all detailed Halis' behavior patterns. Page after page of times he left the house, how long he stayed out, who he saw, who he slept with, who lived after sleeping with him. That she'd written the notes on paper only showed she had always intended them to come to him. Surely, whatever report she sent her agency was done electronically.

The house on the hill waited for him but he'd come here first— to find Allison. He hadn't fully understood what Halis and Silvia could do, what they were, or the vendetta they had when he met Allison the first time. That was no excuse for not warning her properly. He's only warned her about Silvia but after reading the government papers he understood the full threat that Halis posed.

He didn't have to read the words anymore to see them. He could have recited all twenty pages. Allison stood about as much chance against Halis as Berrick's brother stood against Silvia.

The secretions were designed with intent of allowing the Drambish soldiers to gain access to dangerous areas in a covert fashion. Initial findings were all positive, the reaction of the opposite gender to Dramish secretions could seduce intended victims even when the infected test subject was deliberately belligerent. The chemical reaction in the unaltered humans resembles the chemical reaction of love. However, at this stage in the experiment the secretions cripple any idea of a tactical strike at the population.

Would warning her have changed anything? When she left him in the station, the implication of her words was that she foresaw her own death. Allison had already been caught up in the web, but that did not absolve him of his guilt.

As the waitress moved over, Berrick lifted his hand. Studying her notes here wasn't safe. Best get to the point and get to his newly rented room.

"I was told a girl worked here—Pale, blonde, beautiful. Goes by the name Lilly?"

"Yup. Did. Hasn't showed up in over a week."

So, she was dead. "Any idea where she went?"

"Nobody tells me nothin'. Boss had a meeting with some law-men. You a law-man?"

"No, just a friend."

"Well, rumor has it, just rumor mind you, she cracked. Had to send her away. Too bad. Rich handsome boyfriend and all. She was getting out of this place."

"Boyfriend?" That would be Halis.

"Yeah, handsome dark-skinned fellow. Lives in a mansion on the rise over the ocean with his bitchy sister."

Halis and Silvia.

"Well, thank you." Berrick turned to his unnaturally red pie and the waitress continued her tidying. The sticky red goo tasted like congealed cherry syrup.

Berrick turned to Allison's handwritten notes. Despite an urge to drive up to Halis and Silvia's house, waiting needed to fill the next few days. He'd study her notes, watch the house for himself. Only then could he start to take them out. One at a time until none of them remained. Annabelle last... first Silvia.

Doctor Drambish's notes on creating a central consciousness have disappeared from the computers. From what remains, his subjects were linked much like ants to a central mind. This mind centered in Doctor Drambish. His early notes indicate this was to provide a stop measure should the experiment get out of control.

Since Drambish's disappearance, after slaughtering and partially consuming his aides, it can be assumed that Drambish has been contaminated. We have no data on how much of his own mind remains. The risk of him being at large and connected to these predators is unacceptable.

They won't hurt anyone else. The trail of death and insanity ends here.

***

Darith closed his eyes but they opened moments later as a man in a business suit entered the dimly lit spaceship cabin. Energy pooled at Darith's fingertips as the craft jerked into flight. The blond, bearded man reminded him of the brothels' agents. But after a closer inspection, Darith determined that couldn't be. The clothes were too expensive, the ring on his finger worth a small fortune. No. Whoever this man was, his presence on the shuttle to the moon colony was nothing to do with Annabelle himself, Marim or the Brothel.

The man seated himself on the plush seat opposite Darith. He didn't avert his gaze. Nor could Darith read any emotion there— looking into his eyes reminded Darith of staring into the abyss that had claimed Marim.

"You must be Darith Cortonis... No, no, don't even try your magic." The man held up his hand as if to display the small device in his palm.

Darith didn't recognize the machine but understood the implication that it would affect his magic. It was enough to caution him.

The man continued, "Wouldn't work and I mean you no harm. At least for now."

"Who the hell are you? And why are you intruding on my privacy? How did you find me?"

"Oh, the pride of youth. I didn't find you. Our meeting is coincidental in that sense. We are both here because we became entangled in this Drambish mess."

"You are?"

"My name is Mr. Red."

"You're with the brothel."

"No." Red's nose curled in distaste. "They're clumsy fools playing with fire. So are you."

Darith tightened his fist, cutting off Red's air supply. Apparently the little device does nothing.

The only reaction in Red's eyes was mild amusement, rather than tearing at his throat, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lock of red hair, tied with a stiff wire. Darith let go. His eyes fastened on the hair.

"Marim?" Darith said.

"She's alive, no worse off than at the hospital. Not pretty enough for the Brothel to use—"

"You shut up."

"Has anyone told you that you are a nasty little twerp? Wisdom works far better than brute force."

"I'm doing fine."

"I assume by that you mean your wife wasn't forcibly impregnated, driven insane then kidnapped, your parents weren't brutally murdered and you're not being chased by a powerful corporation or—"

"Enough." Darith's fingers dug into the chair. Who was this bastard and how did he know so much? "What do you want?"

"To tell you your wife isn't being tortured or raped." Red shrugged.

"Why do you care?"

"We are tangled in this together. Someone I care about is down on that colony."

"You're here to kill Silvia and Halis."

"You sound worried, Boy. No. Not unless they get in my way. I'm here for my agent. Nothing more. I would've thought you'd be doing the same. You do realize your wife is on Yahal, correct?"

"Keep your nose in your own affairs."

"And I assume you believe that wisdom is driving you?"

Darith turned his face away from Red's smirk. They sat in silence as the shuttle sped away from the main spaceship toward the Veesp moon colony. It wasn't until the landing announcements sounded that Red spoke again.

"The Brothel is waiting for your 'spiders' to flee. Every shuttle departing this little outpost has attendants scanning for their DNA." With that comment Red stood and left the compartment.

Darith lingered a moment before standing. Time to confront Silvia, find out if she knew as much as she implied.

***

Silvia shoved the suitcase against the wall. The bedroom was barren. What they weren't packing, Halis was burning out back. The only decoration remaining was the lovely woman curled up on the couch. Allison couldn't exactly be packed away.

At an insistent tugging at the back of her mind, Silvia crossed the room, looking out at Halis. He remained oblivious. Darith had figured out how to isolate Silvia. Good, that means Halis doesn't know Darith is here.

Silvia slipped over to Allison, the darkness formed an invisible net around the pale woman. The air was thick and sweaty as Silvia's hand passed through it to stroke the girl's cheek.

What a wonderful member of the family Allison could have been, but Allison couldn't be trusted.

"I'd do it again," Allison whispered. She lifted her head, a bloody hole was all that remained of her left eye. The right eye latched onto Silvia before closing.

Silvia lifted her new necklace, backed by silver and sealed beneath a magic time barrio the violet color of the iris gleamed as vivid as a jewel.

Halis is a good man. He loves me and that is all that matters.

But it wasn't. She knew the danger of sneaking off on her own now, when they had every reason to think the Brothel had found them. Yet she didn't want him anywhere near Darith. If he couldn't even see the harm he'd done to Allison, not even feel it's wrong...

But it would leave them both crippled to be apart. Together as a unit they were nearly indestructible. But alone... she shivered remembering coming into that bedroom to find Berrick with a gun on Halis. And her love bleeding. Separate they were weak.

The tug came again and Silvia stood straight, feeling outward with her mind. Darith waited and through the murky vision of the web Silvia recognized his location. Darith's here and he's calling me.

Silvia glanced out at Halis. The white blur of Allison at the corner of her vision made the decision for Silvia. She couldn't tell Halis. Love him or not she couldn't trust him. Marim had rejected the Drambish gene and Darith was trying to overcome it. Silvia wasn't willing to risk Halis deciding they were enemies and destroying them. No. She needed to find out what Darith wanted on her own.