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Men danced with their escorts. The women, scantily attired, fondled them on the dance floor. Money exchanged hands. All of it swirled around the room, oblivious to the peril of Nicolai, Scarlet and their assassin.
    Nicolai lifted his head. “Look.”
    “Holy shit.” The young man’s murderous flush of excitement drained from his face. “That’s my father.”
    The woman was folded forward, her skirts hoisted to reveal her naked backside. Her client snorted a long line of white powder that trailed over her rump. Then she laughed as he slapped her buttock, entered her from behind and fucked her with gusto. Not only was he indulging in addiction and taking advantage of the services provided by a prostitute he was doing so in front of everyone in the room. A young child sat on the floor nearby, crying. “Shut up, Daymon,” the man scoffed. “Daddy’s needs his play time.”
    “Your father,” Nicolai garbled. “And you. Lust. No innocence.”
    “I’ll make it all go away,” Daymon shouted. “I’ll burn this hell hole to the fucking ground, and you can take your Time Dancers and my wasted father with you!”
    “You. Hypocrite. Family trait.”
    The air shifted. The abrupt vibration shook the floor. The dancers vanished from one scenario, reappeared within another. Gently, they swayed as their sensual bodies promised the unspoken. There, cushioned between two women, was the young man who’d claimed to triumph on the side of righteousness. Daymon. A son, witness to iniquity, a pursuer of lust.
    “That’s not me,” he stated soundly although his voice caught. “This is a lie. This place is hell, and you are gonna burn in it.”
    “It’s you. Like father, like son.”
    The scene dissolved. Time had passed but was not forgotten. The Time Dancers, the Bordello Dolls, crowded onto the floor, shrieking starkly, shuffling stiffly around the room, all proceeding clumsily towards the single offender. Their eyes were ablaze with fury.
    Nicolai focused on the doll impaled on the stake through his chest. He lifted his head and with a lunge snatched the pin from the doll’s breast with his teeth. Scarlet slumped, the feeling returning to her arms and legs. She crawled, inching towards Nicolai, despite the wreckage of her groin. She pulled the doll free first then heaved the stake from Nicolai’s heart.
    All the while, the dolls closed in on their victim.
    “You’re all going to die for your sins,” Daymon screamed, his panic stricken eyes flitting from one moving doll to the other.
    “Hypocrite,” Nicolai shouted, his prowess returning quickly. “Like father like son! Daymon, consorter with whores like his father before him and his father before him!”
    “No! Not me!”
    “Yes, it was you.” Nicolai stood, his voice stern, clear, powerful. “You were serviced. You spent your money freely. Your lusts were sated.”
    “I wanted the Scarlet Whore,” he seethed, backing away from the nearing horde of hissing dolls. He kicked one. It shot across the floor on its back, but within seconds regained its footing and continued the assault. “Not these sluts. I wanted the ultimate, but my money wasn’t good enough, was it? Was it?”
    “You wanted nothing more than the power associated with the night. You wanted to be turned, but no such gift was granted.”
    “Burn! If I am condemned, then so will all of you!” With the final proclamation he dropped his lighter directly into an opened can of kerosene.
    A fireball exploded. A blast of searing heat infiltrated the room, but not before Scarlet lifted her arms, her robe winged on each side. All as the dolls scuttled with lightning speed under the material, she folded her arms above her head, and fell with Nicolai into the night.
    * * * *
    The moon was low on the horizon, the thin outline of black billowing clouds slowly creeping closer, threatening a storm. It was wholly reminiscent of a dark dangerous predator who slowly stalked his prey from the shadows, who waited