The Chief of Police Berrick Trehar watched as his brother Henri entered the restaurant with a svelte gentleman. The man was tall and ebony-skinned, a color that labeled him as an alternate humanoid. Since splitting to multiple worlds, some races had departed from the original human strain, and skin the color of smoke crossing a night sky was a mutation. Reddish-black hair fell to his shoulders.

Every female eye in the dimly lit restaurant traveled to him with hunger. The reaction struck Berrick as extreme, another mutation along with the skin tone perhaps. As it was, Berrick became even more wary. Even women who had not been facing the cad, turned as if sensing his entrance.

The chatter from the other tables died. In the stillness, the clink of a single glass and a knife hitting a plate, rang like claps of thunder. The cessation of sound lasted only a moment, but when noise returned, voices throughout the restaurant remained hushed.

Where did my brother come across that man, a con artist no doubt?

On seeing Berrick's name, the hostess had seated him by the bay windows, the best seat in the house. He'd almost asked for a privacy curtain, as once it got around that the planet's chief of police was in residence, he tended to receive more attention than he desired.

Seeing his brother and this man approach him, Berrick was thankful he hadn't obtained the curtain. He didn't want to be out of public view with them. In the years since he'd seen Henri, his brother had become pudgy around the middle, and many of the thick hairs over his body had gone gray. The look in Henri's eye was the same base hunger as always, with a twist of fear.

Berrick stood, jostling the table, so the glasses clinked against each other.

Henri reached the table first and strode up beside Berrick. The other man moved with a shuffling walk that didn't fit with the graceful look he presented, and positioned himself on the other side of the table, leaning one smoke black hand on the lacy tablecloth.

Berrick wished he was back home with his daughter. Family was family and so he had come. Learned my lesson. Does no good trying to let family sort out their own messes when they crossed the law. Never again.

"Berrick, this is Halis," Henri said.

Berrick guessed he outweighed both the other men. Which might be important as resembled a villain from one of Berrick's son's old superhero comics. Even in his forties, Berrick's muscle had not translated into fat. Berrick prided himself that he'd kept both his mind and body free of sloth.

"Halis?" Berrick asked. He wanted a last name to put with that frighteningly handsome face. A name he could plunk into his computers back home and find out what foul deeds caused Halis' dark eyes to simmer.

"Just Halis," the man said, his voice a gentle baritone. "Exchanging first names is the custom among friends. Is it not? Surnames are for acquaintances and business deals."

We're not friends. Berrick fingered his badge where it rested inside his jacket pocket. Brothel City made his authority mean little, but it still calmed him. The city had its own law. He dealt with crime from over the world, but here only one power held sway. The Yahal Brothel. Its shadow covered the whole city, protecting the depraved fiends within from any outside law.

One thing was evident, Berrick didn't want this smiling gentleman to think he was on a first name basis with him. "I'm Chief Trehar."

Halis' smile broadened at the slight. He sat across from Berrick. And motioned for the others to sit. Henri put a hand on Berrick's arm, encouraging him toward his chair. Berrick returned to his chair, but kept it pushed well out from the table.

"Well, Trehar," Halis said. "Your brother informs me you're the one to solve a problem I've been having."

"I'm not." Berrick glared at his brother.

The little man squirmed in his expensive suit jacket.

"That's hardly something you can know, given you're ignorant of my dilemma." Halis' black eyes had a predatory gleam.

"Let's not discuss business here," Henri said, looking at Berrick. The message was clear. Whatever Berrick had been called here for was not above board. "This is a fabulous restaurant, Berrick. Everything is delicious, but the seafood is especially so."

Halis stretched his smile until the white gleam of teeth overshadowed the smoke of his skin. "Recommendations, Mr. Trehar? Seventy-nine percent of adult humanoids have a major dietary restriction that is entirely voluntary. Me, I choose to avoid food products that have synthetic bases. I prefer my meat to drip red."

Henri swallowed. Berrick tensed as his brother's mouth flapped like a fish deprived of water. Despite Henri's red face, Halis relaxed back in his chair, one arm thrown over the back and a feral glint to his eye. The scene reminded Berrick of when Marim's fish bowl fell off the table and shattered on the kitchen tile. While Marim and his wife Polly ran to find a fresh container, Berrick's son's, Petyr's cat crept up and then sat motionless as the goldfish flopped in the remaining puddle. Occasionally, the predatory kitten batted the fish with its front paw, until the fish gave one last shuddering flop. Then daintily, the cat ate the gold fish.

Polly had given Berrick hell for sitting there. Berrick had hated that fish, but Polly's admonishments were true. That silly fish had been family and regardless of his feelings, as Polly had said, 'a decent man doesn't sit by and watch a family member, any family member get tortured and killed.'

For this reason alone, Berrick made no attempt to leave. Whatever skin-crawling business and moral decisions built his life upon, all that mattered now was the danger looming over Henri's head. Family. He only had Marim and Henri left, and he wasn't going to let one of them down without trying.

"I have no intention of sitting through a meal with you." Berrick shoved the napkin wrapped silverware to the center of the table. "I came to hear what Henri needs to say, nothing else."

"Do you drink?" Henri forced his voice out in a squeak.

"Sometimes," Halis said.

A waitress sauntered up to the table and Halis' attention slid over to the slender brunette. Free of Halis' gaze, Henri wiped at his sweating brow. Berrick used the moment to make careful note of the exits. Chances were they would walk out quietly, even criminals didn't come to restaurants with crystal drinking glasses intending to shoot at each other. But an exit strategy hurt no one whereas the reverse could not be said.

Halis smirked up at the waitress, who beamed back at him. Not sparing a glance for the brothers, she leaned closer to Halis.

"What can I get for you? Anything to drink before the meal?" She blushed under his steady gaze.

"We will not be having a meal," Berrick said.

"Ah, Alita," Halis said. "Fetch me a glass of your finest red wine."

Berrick glanced at her nameplate and typed in bold black blazed her name. Yet, Halis didn't appear to have looked away from her eyes. Even for a con-artist, the caliber of showmanship he displayed implied he belonged to a selective elite.

"Of course." She didn't look away from Halis. "Anything else for you gentlemen?"

"Bring the bill with the wine. We won't be staying long." Berrick glared at his brother.

The girl hung about for another few moments before hurrying off.

"Why am I here?" Berrick asked.

"Berrick, hush," Henri said.

"Tut, tut, my friend." Halis shook his head, the leer never faltering. "I wonder why someone with your cut-to-the chase attitude came to Yahal. Of the seventeen worlds, none have a dance of manners as intricate as this backwater you oversee."

"Why am I here?" He shoved a finger onto the table, in a forcible point.

"Simply put, because Silvia and I wished it." Halis sipped the glass of water in front of him.

"Who is Silvia?" Berrick asked.

"My sister. We're very close, she and I."

"An amazing woman, Berrick," Henri's words poured out, blending into one long word. "You'll get to meet her later tonight. Amazing, beautiful as a goddess, I tell you. I've never met anyone like her."

Something flashed in Halis' eyes, and Berrick wondered if his brother wasn't being too forward about his admiration. In many parts of Yahal, it was a tricky thing to admire a woman without insulting her honor. Of the seventeen core worlds, Yahal was the most restrictive to female sexuality. Berrick thought that came from having a large portion of their wealth and fame coming from a brothel. No one wanted women of standing to have any doubt attached to them lest they be delegated to the same strata as the whores by the public eye.

The drinks came, and while Halis flirted with the waitress, Berrick laid several bills on top of the check. They probably used net transfers of money in Brothel city, but Berrick didn't care. I'm not here to fit in. The sooner I get out, the better.

Henri babbled about his practice and the latest big cases as they drank. A sheen of sweat accumulated on his brow and caused damp spots on his shirt. Halis was mostly silent, but with a word or factoid he struck out occasionally. The comparison to the cat toying with the dying fish resurfaced repeatedly to Berrick. Halis rubbed him as the worst kind of criminal, a charismatic sociopath.

When they finished their drinks, the other two men escorted Berrick to a waiting car. Berrick didn't have a chance to rethink getting into their car, or insisting on taking his own, before he was ushered into the sleek vehicle that had pulled up to the doors for them. He felt more like a prisoner than a guest. Sweat caused his thick button-down shirt to stick to him. Halis reclined in the back of the car while the two Trehars sat up front.

Berrick went through a list of the horrible things that Henri could have called him to Brothel City to help mediate. As they drove and he pondered, he flipped his badge over and over in his fingers.

They drove to a rich looking property and parked in the cobbled drive. By the time they arrived, sunset had proceeded them by a good hour, and Berrick could see little of the home but its lofty size. They all got out and went inside.

"I'll alert my sister to your arrival." Halis departed.

Berrick watched him go.

"This is my house, Berrick. I've been trying to get you here for ages. See that rug? Do you know how much that cost?"

"Henri," Berrick said for the first time addressing his brother by name. Screw how much your rugs cost. "What is going on here? Who's Halis?"

"Why don't you come into the study?" Henri wiped his brow.

Berrick followed him because there was no other option. The study was a tidy little room, done up in imported leathers and abstract paintings. Despite an attempt with pot-pourri, the air stank like a showroom. Probably the room had been designed and decorated by a professional, and all Henri ever did there was shuffle papers. The brothers sat across from each other on brown chairs made of soft animal hide.

"Henri, what trouble're you in?" Berrick said.

Henri stared at the floor and crossed and recrossed his legs.

"Damn you. I shouldn't have come, let you rot in your mess."

"But you cling to a moral code which would not allow such abandonment," the voice was female and sultry. She moved silently into the room her large black eyes not looking at either man.

Berrick's pulse raced, his eyes slipping to the neckline of her gown where her soft white flesh, whiter than nature allowed, swelled. Like something crawled from his dirtiest fantasies and made flesh, she leaned in his direction, her red lips parting. His mouth was dry and formed no words in response.

"I, for one, am glad you came." She turned to Henri and stroked his cheek with one slender finger.

"Silvia," Henri said. "This is Silvia, Berrick."

"Berrick," she said, turning to him.

"Mr. Trehar," he corrected her. His fingers dug into the arms of the chair. He understood what the women at the restaurant must have experienced at Halis' arrival. Her presence affected him like an aphrodisiac. This woman won't get the best of me.

"No formalities between friends, Berrick."

"Why am I here?" Berrick growled. They didn't look like brother and sister, what with his tar black skin and her white flesh, but by the gods, they played the same games.

* If you like the story, please go ahead and hit the fancy little star and let the world and me know you appreciate it :) Thank you all for reading. I'm getting a better response than I hoped! Constructive comments are always welcome or almost any other type of comment you wish to make. Your responses always make my day!  

*Revised 3/28/2016