Run: 2026-02-19-01KHSZ0ZHED33BNA7M9Y7TXP43

Shadows danced across the grimy walls of the abandoned tube station, a ghostly waltz in the flickering light of flashlights. The air was thick with the damp chill of underground London, a lingering memory of the Thames above. Detective Harlow Quinn stood amidst the crowd of uniforms, her sharp gaze taking in every detail of the eerie setting. "Evie," she called out, her voice echoing down the dark tunnels. The sound of footsteps approached, echoing off the worn, tile-clad walls. Detective Constable Eva Kowalski appeared, her curly red hair spilling from under her Met cap, round glasses reflecting the beam of her torch. She carried a worn leather satchel over her shoulder, no doubt packed with the tools of her trade—cameras, journals, and measuring tape for documenting the scene. "Thought you'd appreciate this, Harlow. A case right up your alley." Evie's eyes sparkled with excitement as she joined Quinn. Harlow glanced around the site where a series of dilapidated newsstands and abandoned stalls were scattered under the defunct railway. Greyish, soiled pallets stood in rickety towers, barely kept standing by nylon webbing hugging large wooden crates. Foot traffic had trampled and worn the concrete floor into rough patches between them. Harmless black mould speckled the walls and ceilings. This was no ordinary crime scene. "Describe the events." "Well, we got an anonymous tip at the office, said to come down here. The boys in blue checked it out and found her—old woman, strangled. Body's over there." She pointed with a nod, cutting a small smile with a disguised squeeze of her eyelids. The detectives picked their way over to an open space between some stalls to find the victim. Her body lay sprawled on the concrete, hands clenching at her throat, the defining feature of strangulation, as though she had tried to claw the killer's hands away. Her legs were splayed out, sightless eyes gaping at the cracked ceiling. A boney woman, none of the apparent attitude of a young girl. On a nearby bench, an old-fashioned brass cash register sat next to a Formica display case with two empty compartments. The drawers swung wide, the cash box flung open, its contents ransacked. An obvious robbery gone wrong but something about this scene didn't sit right with Quinn. She took in the details, her eyes narrowing. "Is this the full extent of the evidence, or have I missed something?" Quinn asked, her tone measured. "You think there's something more?" Evie studied the details. Quinn nodded. "Look at the register. The key's still in the lock, but the till was opened. It doesn't make sense. It's a small gesture, but with the tension in her legs, she did not display signs of being interrupted mid-transaction." She crouched, running a gloved hand along the smooth wood of the bench, examining the drawers. "The cash's gone, too," Evie said, reaching in with a gloved hand. "Not what I mean. The victim had time to struggle. The assailant didn't just rush in and throttle her. He had time to kill and escape." Quinn stood and motioned back to the body. "Look at her. Would you try and fight back in that position?" Evie considered this. "I can see what you mean. It's... staged." A uniformed officer at the corner caught their attention, attempting to play cool after snatching a peek at the gory events unfolding. Quinn noticed. "What have we got so far?" She kept the officer calm and took him by the shoulders. "Yes, ma'am. We're taking statements and pictures, but nothing yet on a suspect. Talked to the guys on watch last night—said it was quiet and that they didn't hear anything unusual." "No sign of our murder weapon?" "No, ma'am. Just the body." "Crowbar, maybe? Sign of forced entry back there." The officer glanced toward a blackened, rusted passage, littered with rubble and broken crates. "Guv, we secured the entrances, but I know where we parked last night. It wasn't there." "Eye-witnesses?" "No. I'm sorry, Guv. We're lookin' hard." While Quinn could sense some degree of reticence, she decided to confront him later. She turned back to Evie. "You think someone would kill over a few quid?" Evie shook her head. "It's not my area of expertise. I'm just here to assist with the"—she motioned back to the crates—"supernatural side of things." She made the last word sound unnatural. "And this is already beyond me." Quinn produced a small brass compass from her pocket, etched with protective sigils. She held it out, and the needle spun wildly before locking in a precise direction. "See that? The Veil Compass. Doesn't point north, only leads to the nearest rift or portal, which happened to bring me straight here." It was Evie's turn to raise an eyebrow. "You found this evidence in the course of your investigation?" Quinn shook her head. "No, my partner got it for me on the sly. This market shows up a few times a year, moves locations every full moon." Evie's face wrinkled in confusion. "The full moon?" "Think vampires and werewolves. The supernaturals need to get supplies, too."