"You ever notice how blood smells different when it's yours?" The man pressing the stained handkerchief to his neck laughed wetly. Behind him, neon signs buzzed in the humid alleyway.
Across from him, a woman lit a cigarette with hands that didn't shake.
"Only idiots bleed after midnight," she said, exhaling smoke through her nose. The smoke had the scent of cloves mixed with something a bit more exotic.
A motorcycle engine gunned three blocks over, the sound bouncing between brick walls like a pinball. The bleeding man's laughter cut off abruptly as his fingers brushed something metallic in his jacket pocket.
His pupils dilated—just for a heartbeat—but the woman caught it. She flicked her cigarette toward a puddle shimmering with rainbow gasoline.
"You didn't." Her voice dropped an octave. Somewhere above, a balcony door slammed shut.
The bleeding man's grin returned, tighter now. He withdrew his hand slowly, revealing a bronze key stamped with symbols that looked less like language and more like something that had come from within the bronze itself. "Told you I had connections," he murmured, turning it so the neon lights caught the odd sheen along its teeth.
The woman didn't move, but her breath hitched—just once. The key was supposed to be a myth. The kind of thing collectors whispered about after too much Absinthe. Yet here it was, pulsing in his palm like a live wire.
& so it begins.
Disclaimer
The characters, events, and situations depicted are for entertainment purposes. Any resemblance to real persons, living, dead, or something other, or to actual events is purely coincidental.
Ghostwriter
COMMENTS
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Cadrewolf2
15:17 Mar 14 2026
Excellent