"The air grew thick and stale, laced with the metallic tang of old rails and something sharper—decay, perhaps, or the faint ozone bite of exposed wiring."
1
"But this wasn't just any derelict—whispers in the department spoke of the Veil Market, a ghost story for cops who worked too many late nights."
2
"The platform stretched out, littered with debris: shattered glass phials that glinted unnaturally, scraps of fabric embroidered with symbols that twisted her gut—runes, maybe, or some foreign script she'd seen in cold case files."
3
"Blood pooled beneath him, dark and viscous, but it didn't spread like it should; it beaded at the edges, as if repelled by an invisible barrier."
4
"Quinn ducked under the tape, her boots crunching on what looked like dried herbs scattered across the floor. The body was positioned oddly, arms splayed as if he'd been clawing at the air, fingers curled into rigid hooks. No weapon in sight, but a gash across his throat yawned wide, clean but jagged at the edges, like it'd been made by something serrated and unseen. She knelt, gloved hands hovering over the wound. The blood was congealed, sure, but it shimmered faintly, iridescent under her torch— not the flat crimson of a knife job. And the pool: it formed a near-perfect circle, six feet in diameter, undisturbed by the drafts whispering through the tunnels."
5
"The cut's deep, severed the carotid, but the spray pattern—there isn't one."
6
"Quinn's jaw tightened. She traced the circle's edge with her finger, inches above the floor. No drag marks, no footprints overlapping the pool. The victim had been standing here, in the heart of what must have been the Veil Market's busiest hour—stalls implied crowds, yet the platform bore only faint scuffs from boots long gone. The market moved every full moon, according to the briefing notes; tonight's sliver phase meant it was dormant, or so the informant claimed. But if that was true, why was this stall intact, its contents spilled like entrails: vials of glowing liquid, amulets on leather cords, and a small brass compass half-buried in the dust."
7
"She picked up the compass gingerly, turning it in her palm. The casing bore a patina of verdigris, etched with sigils that made her eyes water—protective wards, if the department's occult liaison was worth her salt. The needle didn't spin north; it quivered, pointing erratically toward the body, then jerking away as if burned. Veil Compass, her mind supplied from fragmented reports. Attuned to rifts, portals—supernatural hot spots. Crafted by some Shade artisan, whoever the hell that was."
8
"Quinn stood, slipping the compass into an evidence bag. Reilly's take was tidy, the kind that closed files fast. But it itched. No signs of struggle beyond the pose—no defensive wounds on the hands, no debris displaced. And the blood: if he'd been standing, arterial spray should paint the walls, not pool neatly like spilled ink. \"Junkie with a magic knife?\" she muttered, handing the bag to Reilly. \"Check that for prints."
9
"And get luminol on the circle—see if it's hiding anything.\""
10
"Feel the air—it's humming, like static before a storm."
11
"The Veil Market isn't just a flea market; it's a nexus."
12
"Quinn shot her a sidelong glance, her bearing unyielding. Eva's theories veered into fantasy, but they'd saved her ass once before, when a \"gas leak\" in Whitechapel turned out to be something that dissolved flesh. Still, three years ago, Morris had chased a lead like this—unexplained death, whispers of the unnatural—and poof. Gone. Quinn wouldn't chase ghosts again without proof. \"Interpretation's premature, Kowalski."
13
"But as the techs set up, Quinn circled the body, her torch sweeping methodically. The stall's contents drew her back: a shattered vial leaked a residue that fizzed on the concrete, eating tiny pits like acid. Nearby, the victim's hand clutched a fragment of bone, polished smooth—entry token, maybe, for this hidden bazaar. She pried it free, noting the carvings: a stylized eye, weeping shadows. Her pulse quickened; it matched a sketch in Morris's old file, from a case involving a \"clique\" of occult dabblers."
14
"Eva knelt by the stall, pulling a slim volume from her satchel—a dog-eared tome on ancient markets, its pages yellowed. \"See these sigils on the compass?"
15
"But the blood—it's not human, not entirely."
16
"Quinn ignored the chill snaking up her spine, focusing on the platform's far wall. A flicker—scorch marks, faint, in a vertical line, as if something had phased through. No soot trail, no charring beyond that line. Her mind pieced it: victim confronts seller, argument escalates. But no sound of a fight; the station's acoustics would echo screams. Unless it was silent, otherworldly."
17
"And the body—full tox screen, including unknowns.\" Turning to Eva, she added quieter, \"You're saying a portal did this?"
18
"The clique— they're users, not just dabblers."
19
"Quinn's watch ticked louder in the silence, a reminder of time slipping. Morris's death: unexplained, supernatural origins she couldn't prove. The evidence here didn't add up because it wasn't meant to—mundane eyes saw robbery, but she'd missed the pattern before. The bone token in her palm felt heavier now, a key to doors better left shut. She pocketed it, resolve hardening her sharp jaw."
20
"The circle wasn't random; it mirrored the compass's face, sigils etched in fluid."
21
"The vic hadn't been murdered—he'd been marked, pulled partway into whatever rift the market guarded."
22
"It hadn't failed; it'd pointed the killer straight to the weakness."
23
"The clique was involved; she could feel it, a shadow echoing Morris's fate."
24
"Tomorrow, she'd follow the compass's needle, wherever it led—into the veil or straight to hell."
Target: ≤6% sentences with technical-jargon patterns
analyzedSentences
30
technicalSentenceCount
9
matches
0
"But this wasn't just any derelict—whispers in the department spoke of the Veil Market, a ghost story for cops who worked too many late nights."
1
"An underground bazaar that slithered through London's forgotten veins, peddling shadows and secrets."
2
"The platform stretched out, littered with debris: shattered glass phials that glinted unnaturally, scraps of fabric embroidered with symbols that twisted her gu…"
3
"A man in his forties, sprawled face-down amid the rubble, his suit rumpled and expensive, the kind that screamed mid-level fixer."
4
"Blood pooled beneath him, dark and viscous, but it didn't spread like it should; it beaded at the edges, as if repelled by an invisible barrier."
5
"Quinn ducked under the tape, her boots crunching on what looked like dried herbs scattered across the floor. The body was positioned oddly, arms splayed as if h…"
6
"She picked up the compass gingerly, turning it in her palm. The casing bore a patina of verdigris, etched with sigils that made her eyes water—protective wards,…"
7
"Quinn ignored the chill snaking up her spine, focusing on the platform's far wall. A flicker—scorch marks, faint, in a vertical line, as if something had phased…"
8
"The station seemed to hum in agreement, the air thickening as if the walls themselves conspired."