Run: 2026-02-20-01KHXQEJX0PQ0QCKH1289R1W7Y

The third deadbolt clicked. The door swung open just wide enough for Aurora to see a sliver of Eva’s face—eyes narrowed, lips pressed thin—before the chain caught. “You’ve got some nerve.” Lucien’s voice came from behind her, smooth as aged brandy. “I do. But not as much as you, *chérie*.” Eva’s glare flicked past Aurora’s shoulder, then snapped back. “What the hell is *he* doing here?” Aurora didn’t move. The hallway smelled of curry and damp concrete, the scent clinging to her jacket. She could feel Lucien’s presence like a current, warm and dangerous, just out of sight. “He’s with me.” A beat. Eva’s fingers tightened around the door edge. “You’re joking.” “Wish I was.” The chain rattled as Eva unhooked it, then yanked the door wide. The flat beyond was a maze of towering book stacks, yellowed scrolls curled at the edges, and takeaway containers balanced precariously on every surface. Ptolemy, the tabby, slunk between a pile of leather-bound tomes, tail flicking in disdain. Eva crossed her arms. “Last time I saw him, he left you crying in a back alley. Or did you forget?” Aurora’s jaw clenched. The memory tasted like copper—Lucien’s low laugh as he walked away, the weight of his words still bruising her ribs. *Some things aren’t worth fixing, Rory.* She stepped inside before Eva could slam the door in their faces. The floorboards groaned under her boots. “I haven’t forgotten. But we need his help.” Lucien followed, the tip of his cane tapping lightly against the threshold. His suit was immaculate, not a crease out of place, as if he hadn’t just spent the last hour trailing Aurora through the rain-slicked streets. “Always a pleasure, Eva.” Eva’s nostrils flared. “Don’t ‘Eva’ me, you snake-eyed bastard.” A slow smile curled his lips. “Still so charming.” Aurora shoved a stack of books off the sofa with her hip, sending a cloud of dust into the air. “Sit. Both of you.” Lucien lowered himself onto the newly cleared space with the grace of a man who’d never once doubted his welcome. Eva remained standing, arms folded, glaring at him like he might sprout horns at any moment. (He already had, technically. Just not the visible kind.) Aurora dragged over a wooden crate and perched on it, rolling up the sleeves of her hoodie. The crescent scar on her wrist caught the light. “We’ve got a problem.” Eva’s gaze flicked to the scar, then away. “When don’t we?” Lucien leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. The amber eye, the black one—both locked onto Aurora. “The thing from the docks. It wasn’t a one-off.” A cold finger traced Aurora’s spine. “You’re sure?” “Three more sightings. All near the Thames. All within the last forty-eight hours.” His voice dropped. “It’s hunting.” Eva exhaled sharply. “Fantastic. And let me guess—you two lovebirds already tried to handle it yourselves and fucked it up?” Aurora ignored the jab. “We tracked it to an old warehouse in Wapping. Lost it in the tunnels.” “Convenient.” Lucien’s cane rotated between his palms, a slow, deliberate motion. “It’s not just convenient, *ma petite sorcière*. It’s deliberate. That thing *wanted* us to follow.” Eva’s fingers twitched toward the athame tucked into her boot. “So what? It’s playing with you?” “With *us*,” Aurora corrected. “And yeah. Like a cat with a mouse.” A muscle feathered in Lucien’s jaw. “Then we stop being mice.” Eva barked a laugh. “Oh, brilliant plan. Why didn’t I think of that?” She turned on Aurora. “And you—you actually *trust* him after what he did?” Aurora met her stare. “I don’t. But I trust that he doesn’t want to die any more than we do.” Lucien’s mouth quirked. “Flattering.” Eva threw her hands up. “Unbelievable. You’re both insane.” Ptolemy chose that moment to leap onto the sofa, tail brushing against Lucien’s sleeve. The demon froze. The cat sniffed, then—after a considering pause—curled into a tight ball against his thigh and began purring. Eva’s eyes narrowed. “Traitor.” Lucien stroked a finger along the cat’s spine. “Animals have excellent judgement.” Aurora rubbed her temples. “Can we focus? The thing’s getting bolder. Last night it took a dockworker. Left his *shadow* painted on the wall like a fucking calling card.” Eva’s breath hitched. “Shadow?” “Not a metaphor.” Lucien’s voice was flat. “The man was there one second, gone the next. All that remained was… an imprint. Like he’d been pressed into the bricks.” A silence settled, thick and suffocating. Ptolemy’s purr was the only sound. Eva finally exhaled. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, I’m leaving you both to the mercy of whatever the hell that thing is.” Lucien inclined his head. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.” Aurora stood, shaking out her hands. “Good. Then we—” The lights flickered. All three of them went still. Eva’s voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s not the wiring.” A low, wet *click* echoed from the hallway. Then another. Like bones knitting together. Lucien was on his feet in an instant, cane gripped tight. The blade inside remained sheathed—for now. “It found us.” Aurora’s pulse hammered in her throat. “Eva, your salt line—” “Already down.” Eva lunged for the shelf behind her, fingers closing around a jar of black powder. “Shit. *Shit.*” The clicking grew louder. Closer. Lucien moved to Aurora’s side, his free hand brushing the small of her back—just for a second. A silent *stay behind me*. She ignored it, reaching for the iron poker by the fireplace. The flat’s temperature plummeted. Eva hurled the powder toward the door. It hit the air and *ignited*, a wall of blue flame roaring to life. The shadows beyond the fire *twisted*, coalescing into something with too many joints, too many eyes— Then the lights went out. In the dark, Aurora heard Lucien’s breath against her ear. “Run.”