Run: 2026-02-17-01KHMPB45XHDGNS29PMKEZ0GKX

The air in the abandoned Tube station was thick with the scent of damp stone and something metallic underneath—blood, maybe. Detective Harlow Quinn adjusted the strap of her worn leather watch as she stepped past the yellow police tape, her boots crunching on broken tile. The platform was dimly lit by flickering emergency lights, casting long shadows that stretched like grasping fingers. Eva Kowalski stood near the edge of the platform, her round glasses catching the pale glow as she scribbled notes in a small book pulled from her satchel. She glanced up as Quinn approached, tucking a loose curl of red hair behind her ear—her tell when she was nervous. "You're late," Eva said, though there was no real bite to it. Quinn ignored the jab. "What do we have?" Eva gestured to the center of the platform, where a chalk outline marked the scene. "Male, mid-thirties. No ID yet. Cause of death looks like exsanguination, but—" "But?" Eva hesitated, then lowered her voice. "No wounds. No signs of struggle. Just… empty." Quinn frowned. That didn't track. She moved closer, scanning the ground. The tiles were cracked, but clean—no blood spatter, no drag marks. Just a body that had bled out without a single drop left behind. "Paramedics called it?" "First responders did. Then they handed it off to your lot." Eva shifted her weight. "But I don’t think they knew what to make of it." Quinn crouched beside the outline, running a gloved finger along the edge of the chalk. The station was abandoned, but not empty—this was the Veil Market’s territory. She’d heard whispers of it, a black market for things that didn’t belong in daylight. If this was their doing, it wasn’t just a murder. It was a message. She stood, brushing dust from her knees. "You’ve been here before." Eva stiffened. "What?" "Don’t play dumb. You research the occult. This place is crawling with it." Quinn kept her voice level, but her gaze sharpened. "You know what happened to him." Eva’s fingers tightened around her notebook. "I have theories. Nothing concrete." "Try me." Eva exhaled, glancing around as if someone might be listening. "There are… things that feed on energy. Life force. Blood’s just the easiest conduit." Quinn’s jaw tightened. Supernatural bullshit. She’d heard it before—whispers after Morris died, the kind of stories cops told each other over bad coffee when they couldn’t explain what they’d seen. But this wasn’t a ghost story. This was a body. "Right," she said flatly. "So we’re looking for a vampire." Eva didn’t laugh. "Not exactly. But close." Quinn studied her. Eva was jumpy, but not lying. She believed it. And that was the problem. Quinn reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small brass compass—the Veil Compass, picked up from an informant last month. The face was etched with sigils, the needle twitching erratically even when held still. She hadn’t known what to make of it then. Now, watching the needle spin toward the tunnel’s dark mouth, she had a sinking feeling. Eva’s eyes locked onto it. "Where did you get that?" "Doesn’t matter." Quinn followed the needle’s pull, stepping toward the tunnel. The air grew colder, the shadows deeper. "You shouldn’t go down there," Eva said quickly. "Not without knowing what you’re walking into." Quinn didn’t stop. "Then enlighten me." Eva caught her arm. "There’s a rift near here. A weak spot between worlds. Things come through. Things that don’t belong." Her grip was tight, her green eyes wide behind her glasses. "If you go in blind, you won’t come back out." Quinn held her gaze. Morris had gone in blind. Morris had trusted the wrong people. She pulled free. "Then I’ll keep my eyes open." The tunnel swallowed her whole.