Dear Wigleaf,

We arrived at dark. The key worked. The Station was empty. We set the trap at the top of the stairs and waited. Kate, as part of her ritual, smoked a cigarette, holding it outside the open bathroom window. Muller waited down the lane and alerted us to Its arrival. We retreated into the shadowed hallway and waited and watched.

Soon, It arrived. Lingered at the bottom of the stairs. Seemed to sense something more than Itself. Ascended, tentacling Its way up the stairs. Paused before the top step. Went for Kate so tenderly and dragged her into the trap. The familiar crimson endocrine mist and trabecular bone haze. It hovered there, above the stain, and came for me, but slowly.

I signaled Muller, who signaled Keith. It moved about the ceiling above me. A vacuum of thought. A new sort of abstractness, unshaped, allowing my escape, the fullness of the yellow night air outside the bathroom window as I plunged down into Keith's net. Muller drove us to the Station.

We arrived at dark.


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