“And the papers you have now?” Berrick said.
“We have no papers. According to the law, my brother and I do not exist.”
Berrick stared into her face, into her dark, empty eyes and grew cold. His mind was made. Whatever line she was feeding him, what she was asking for was wrong. He was only getting part of the story and whatever she was withholding was what made him feel cold at her gaze. This was not a woman he wished to aid.
“I won’t help you,” he said.
“Poor, deluded man. You’ve no other option.”
She sounded sad, and Berrick shivered.
“I’m done with this. I won’t help you. Look elsewhere.” Berrick stood.
“I haven’t the time for your temper tantrum,” Silvia said.
Berrick turned his back to her and began to walk away.
“You’ll reconsider for Mr. Trehar’s sake and for your daughter, Marim.”
Berrick stopped walking. If they’d done enough research to know his family tragedy, they would know about his surviving daughter. Whatever doubts he had about Silvia’s general wickedness were dispelled in the breath she uttered Marim’s name.
He turned back to her.
“Ah, now I have your attention. Next, shall we discuss desecrating your dead wife’s bones? And your friends—I can have their heads torn from their bodies. Maybe the count and his wife, maybe their handsome son. Though I might have to sample him first. I could have them all. I’ve no desire for any of that death or pain, but I’ll use any means to my end. Nothing will keep me from freedom.”
Many people bluffed threats in the cold metal of his interrogation room or when cuffs first touched their wrists. But he believed her, trusted the intensity in her sparkling eyes. Henri just sat there mesmerized beneath her hand while she threatened his life. So he trusted she both could and would follow through.
Her smile faded, and she stroked Henri’s head. “So why don’t the two of you talk the matter over? Mr. Trehar can answer any questions you have.”
She left the room as silently as she had entered. Her hair drifted behind her, unbound, and her skirts rippled across the floor. Her image seemed infused into the walls. She burned her way into Berrick’s brain.
“What have you done?” Berrick asked.
“All they need is papers. It wouldn’t be hard for you. No inconvenience at all.”
“And your cut is worth risking our lives?”
“I’m not risking my life.” Henri looked at him with a cold lucidity.
“You’re a fool.”
“Beautiful women make men weak. Theirs is a power that few of us can battle. Not even you could’ve resisted her.”
Was Henri philosophizing? Berrick placed his badge in his pocket. Despite what Silvia said, even after his wife and son’s deaths, he still believed in the law. Had to. That was the life he’d chosen, and Polly was already gone. The laws she’d broken already paid for in blood. Letting go of the law would leave him with nothing, no reason however tenuous to rationalize her absence and that of his son.
“They’ll kill you right along with the rest of us,” Berrick said.
“I have a feeling I’ll be dead before any of you.” Henri smiled.
For a moment, Berrick remembered how it had been when they’d been kids, back when Henri and he would play in the yard. Henri would sit under the big elm in the backyard and read his books while Berrick climbed in the branches. He remembered how much he’d loved his brother.
∆∆∆
The light flared on with a sharp word, and the illuminating glow of rows upon rows of candles flared up, granting the room a soft glow. In the center of the bedchamber reclined a giant spider, limbs thrown out across a huge bed. The spider lifted its empty shining eyes to the door. Silvia entered, her hair dancing in the candles’ shadows. Then the spider skittered off the bed to her side, its hard, black body absorbing the light.
Silvia knelt and pressed her head against the spider’s underbelly. One long, hairy leg wrapped around her. Face pressed against his spiny hide, she pulled on the web that traveled out from them, gathering energy. Once her hands filled with blackness, Silvia twisted the energy into a new form.
As the darkness danced from Silvia’s hands, a picture appeared before the two of them. In the wavering magic image reclined a pretty girl of about fourteen with red curls. The girl was having her hair done, and she pouted her mouth and batted her eyelashes into a silver-rimmed mirror.
“Marim,” Silvia said in her voice of velvet.
The girl in the picture looked up, startled. The servant let go of her hair and then picked it up again. Marim’s face froze. Wide eyes searched for the voice that had said her name from the ether. Her face was pale and ashen.
“Yes? Did someone call me?” the picture said in a youthful voice. She sunk into her chair, trembling. This was a child already terrified of dark places—ripe for their message.
The spider and Silvia watched with identical gleaming eyes. Silvia closed her fist, letting the energy strands unwind, and the picture dissipated.
Once more, Silvia gathered the web’s strands close to her, forming them like a new gown. Her dress split in two and fell to the ground at her feet. She stepped away from it, and coaxed by the black strands of web, the pale lines of her body faded into eight long, white legs and a striped spider’s body.
“She has no part in this. I hate to tangle her in our machinations.” Silvia’s voice trickled through the web.
“For you, my queen, perhaps I shall leave her alive.”
“Berrick had his chance to protect her. Yet her innocence stings me. Does it you?”
“No. Her blood will be sweet.”
“Was I ever that? Innocent, pure… helpless.”
“You were always a thorn ready to cut.”
The two spiders intertwined and rested on the floor by the bed. One long, hairy leg caressed another but otherwise, they were still.
Chapter 4
A Stop on the Road
The hired car stank of grease and perfume, leaving Berrick to be thankful not to be exposed to whatever those odors might be covering up. Berrick stared ahead of him at the road as the driver tried to chat with him. He kept his hands in his lap, away from the stained seats—this city was disgusting, and the sooner he escaped it, the better.
“No special plans in Brothel City? I know lots of places.” The driver turned right. They were only a few blocks from the restaurant he’d eaten at with Halis, where Berrick had left his car.
Berrick shook his head, hoping this time the sweaty, strung-out driver would leave him to brood. If it had been any other city, Berrick would have called in his license. Yahal didn’t need trash like this working in any public capacity, but Brothel City was independent. Even getting information from anyone here via polite request sometimes took work.
He had bigger concerns than a drug addict hired driver.
When they pulled into the nearly empty lot, Berrick tipped the driver and hopped out, ignoring what the other man called after him. If he never heard another word about this disgusting city, he’d be happy.
Half a dozen cars dotted the lot—it was long after the trendy restaurant closed for the evening. Only one other person was in sight, a woman sitting on the hood of a car smoking. Berrick looked for his vehicle. He didn’t drive it often. Preserving the reputation of his title took using the horse-drawn carriages that the nobility preferred most of the time. Even so, after two sweeps, he realized the car the woman reclined against was his.
He checked for his sidearm, and having reassured himself that his gun was prepared if this night continued to deteriorate, he strode up to his car. The woman didn’t flee at the sight of someone approaching. Probably not some drugged-out teen, then.
When he was close enough to recognize her, his glare deepened. Alita, the waitress who’d served them drinks, her eyes wide and vacant as she puffed smoke into the already thick city air.
“What’re you doing on my car
?” Berrick asked.
“Your friend asked me to keep an eye on it.” Alita blinked as if clearing her head. Standing straighter, she flicked her dark hair back over her shoulder.
“My friend?” Berrick tried to keep his voice from falling into a snarl, but any patience he had with the current situation was fading.
“Halis.” Alita breathed the name, reminding Berrick of how Henri had spoken of Silvia.
What sort of power did these people have?
“When did he ask you to look after my car?”
“He called.” She sighed. “I gave him my number, and he called.”
“Is there a phone inside?” Berrick ground his teeth, a habit that had always bugged Polly. He stopped himself when he realized.
“Yeah, suppose you could use it. Don’t you have the money for a net-chip? You don’t seem the sort for public phones.”
“Not a Yahal native, are you?”
Alita shook her head, her brown ponytail bouncing from side to side.
“Leave Brothel City and you’ll find no one messes with that tech.” He rubbed at the tiny lump behind his ear—a deactivated net-chip, gotten in his college days. It would be useful to have instant access right now. He could always use his net-glasses, which he kept for emergencies in his glove compartment. But the whole point was not to use the advanced tech when there was an easier option.
“I’m not really supposed to let people in.”
“You know who I am?”
“The police chief.” Alita didn’t sound impressed. Foreigners never did. They heard the title and thought of some hairy detective sitting behind a desk in a small town. They didn’t get how different things were on Yahal.
“Chief of what?” he asked, leading her toward the true meaning.
“Some city, right?”
“The whole planet.”
“How does that work…?” She crinkled her nose. “You investigate every crime?”
“No. I advise the local chiefs when they’re in over their heads or when they’re dealing with the nobility or the rich and famous. But I promise you, your boss won’t mind me using the phone.” Was that even true? Would a restaurant owner in Brothel City even care? Probably. They wanted him to stay out of their city’s business. It was a mutual relationship of avoiding each other’s toes.
Alita shrugged and waved him to follow as she headed back up to the restaurant. It looked different with all the lights out. More sinister. Or maybe everything looked sinister to him after meeting with Silvia and Halis. The whole situation gave him a bad feeling.
He waited out in the dining hall while she retrieved the glasses and returned with a phone. She dropped the phone into his hand.
“Hurry,” she said. “I need to lock up.”
He waved Alita back. The last thing he wanted was someone who knew Halis overhearing anything he had to say. Alita wandered into the back room, and he dialed his secretary at home. She picked up after six rings, sounding like she’d risen from a deep sleep.
“Sue-Ellen,” he said, in greeting.
“Boss? How’s the family?”
“Having issues.”
“Sorry to hear it. It’s nearly midnight.”
Good point, get on with it.
“I need something.”
“Boss.” Sue tsked with her tongue. “You’re meant to use your family leave without calling in. Everyone needs a break.”
“This isn’t a vacation.”
“All right. I’ve got a pen. What do you need?”
“Silvia and Halis Black. Run them through the system. They’re in Brothel City, so you may have to call in a few favors. Do it. I want any information you can find on them.”
“Anything else?” Sue-Ellen had something more to say; it lingered in her voice. A hidden accusation.
“Yeah. Can you have a local unit stationed outside Count Cortanis’ place? Had a threat on Marim—nothing too invasive, just keep an eye out for anyone suspicious. Make sure Marim doesn’t go out alone, stays in public places, that sort of thing.”
“Should I be worried? We could call the threat in.”
“No. Just get the unit out there and get me information on the names I gave you.”
“Got it. You coming back early?”
“No. In fact, extend my leave. I want to do a personal investigation, and I don’t need red tape. Keep the office away. I don’t need The Council of Five complicating my life or tying my hands.”
“If it’s serious, you shouldn’t be handling it alone.” Sue-Ellen would have her hands on her hips at this point. He could see it perfectly in his head. Her gray hair up in a tight bun even at night.
“Thanks for worrying, but family matters are best kept that way.”
“What happened to Polly—”
“Sue! What happened was I let my job title get in the way of family. I’m not doing that again. Just do as I ask.”
“Good luck, sir.” She heaved a sigh to tell him what she thought of his plans. “Give me a call when you get home.”
“Have everything on Silvia and Halis ready. It isn’t more than a few days’ drive.”
They hung up, and he nodded to Alita on the way out, handing her the phone.
“Don’t know why you needed the phone. You had net-glasses,” she said as the door closed. She’d flipped the lock by the time Berrick processed the words. He stared at her for a moment, feeling a new surge of dread.
How did she know that? Shit.
He ran across the deserted lot and opened his glove compartment.
The net-glasses had been neatly snapped in two. Little bitch.
I’ll have her looked into too. But first, he had to get out of here. More than ever, he needed to get home. He could assume that if Halis had called her, her little vandalism was to make a point. He was lucky it was nothing worse.
He stuck the key in the ignition and turned, holding his breath. The car turned on, and he sighed. First thing to go right all night… at least they hadn’t sabotaged his car. He’d have it looked over once he got home, but for now, he had to get on the road. Get back to Marim.
The sun shone down from overhead, blazing on the country backroad—the fastest way back to Count Cortanis’ place unless he’d used a hovercar. But only off-worlders ever used those, and he wouldn’t even know how to drive one. There was no direct route from Brothel City out to the major cities of Yahal.
Yahal Mainers, as the rest of the world was labeled, didn’t travel to or from Brothel City and didn’t want residents of Brothel City infecting the rest of the world.
He heaved a sigh as he saw the sign for unincorporated country that bordered Brothel City. He was almost out.
At the sign, a crack emanated from the engine. The car sputtered to a stop.
Berrick beat his fist against the steering wheel and cursed himself. Polly had always said his biggest flaw was that he just ran headlong ahead without bothering to plan, to consider the variables. He’d known they could have tinkered with his car. That was the worst part… he’d known and ignored it.
“Planning ahead saves you time in the long run,” Polly had said.
“I get shit done before you are even through planning.”
“Except when you don’t.”
Well, this seemed to be a severe planning issue. He should have known the moment the glasses were broken that something bigger was happening. Silvia and Halis hadn’t seemed like the go-small type. What would have happened if I’d taken the car to the shop before heading off? Or hired a car to take me all the way?
Too late for what-ifs. Time for solutions.
The sign that proclaimed he was heading out of Brothel City was back a few yards, but even from the distance, he could see the electric box that topped the pole. Designed to keep Brothel City citizens from smuggling forbidden tech into the country, those boxes had been instituted a dozen years back. They interacted with any tech that didn’t have a Yahal passcode by initiating a destruct sequence.
All the bast
ards would have had to do is wire in a piece of off-world tech…
He got out of the car and stared helplessly at the smoking hood. He knew less than nothing about the interior workings. So the only possible thing to do was find help. Find a house and a phone. Sue-Ellen would lay into him, but he could get a bigger detail put on Marim.
The road was lined with trees, and the thick greenery covered anything that might have been on the other side. Berrick walked for nearly an hour before he came to the edge of the trees. The fields implied a farm, so he turned off the road and headed back until he saw a farmhouse over the fields.
How long would it take Silvia and Halis to reach the Cortanis estate if they took a hovercar? Every minute he was delayed made the possibilities worse. What a fool he was. He had to assume Silvia and Halis were planning something with the time, and all he could do was try to keep the delay as short as possible.
If he was wrong—great. But for now, he’d plan for the worst.
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