Leaving the other officers to handle the woman, we made our way to Jane’s car, parked in front of an apartment building. Two more vehicles were stationed near the sidewalk, their headlights dimly illuminating the rain-slick street. A few reporters, quick to spot us, rushed over with questions about the murder. We ignored them, keeping our heads low as we pushed through the crowd.

The rain intensified with every passing minute. Dark clouds churned overhead, blotting out the moon and stars. It was a typical night in West Antapolis—cold, chaotic, and unrelenting. The city mirrored its people, unpredictable and unforgiving. Morning might bring rain, night a sudden snowstorm. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen this godforsaken city under a clear, sunny sky.

Sliding into the passenger seat, I leaned back as Jane climbed behind the wheel. She buckled her seatbelt, pressed the ignition button, and brought the engine to life. I pulled a cigarette from my coat pocket, lit it, and cracked the window slightly to let the smoke escape.

“What was the victim’s name?” I asked after a long exhale.

“Jacob Dun. Twenty-eight,” she replied, reversing the car smoothly. “His girlfriend’s name is Mire Opra. Twenty.”

“Hmm,” I muttered, taking another drag.

Jane glanced at me as she pulled onto the road. “What did you find while examining the body? I saw you sniffing his hand. Romantic.”

“I caught the scent of wine and glue,” I explained.

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “Wine and glue? That’s… strange.”

“Yeah. And we still don’t know how he was killed.”

She smirked faintly. “His head was chopped off, C.”

“We don’t know if it was post-mortem.”

“Fair point,” she admitted. “We’ll have to wait for the autopsy. They’ll figure out if the heart came out first or the head… or, I don’t know. It’s like that chicken and egg thing.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

The crackle of my walkie-talkie interrupted our conversation. A calm, artificial voice announced, “Officer Cratehalaña Vann, you are in close proximity to a report received fifty seconds ago. Please proceed to the scene immediately. Location: Kiruha, Honey Street, Offroad Apartments, inside the roundabout garden. Victim: deceased male. Age and name unknown. Other officers are already en route.”

“Another one,” I muttered, grinding my cigarette against the ashtray that was below the window. “You know the place?”

Jane turned on the sirens and made a sharp U-turn. “Yeah. It’s about two minutes from here.”

I checked my sidearm, pulling out the pistol to ensure the magazine was full. Silver bullets, locked and loaded. Sliding it back into the holster, I leaned against the window and sighed. Two murders in such a short span—this wasn’t just a coincidence. And the report had come straight to Preternatural Affairs, bypassing the regular police. Something wasn’t adding up.

I glanced at Jane. She was biting her lip, her face pale and tired. The sleepless nights were catching up to both of us. Preternatural Affairs didn’t deal with the volume of cases the regular police did, but our workload came with higher stakes and more gruesome fatalities. Maniac vampires ensured that.

“You think it’s the same killer?” Jane asked, breaking the silence. “The guy likes pinning his victims to walls.”

“The report’s from a roundabout,” I replied, my tone measured. “Not much wall space there.”

Jane yawned and rubbed her eyes. “You’re right. Ugh, I’m so tired.”

“Join the club,” I muttered. “Damn this city.”

“Worst place in the world,” she grumbled. “Wish I’d been born in England or something.”

“More rain?” I teased.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“Less shitty people,” she quipped with a faint smirk.

I chuckled softly. “You might have a point.”

I gazed through the windshield, watching the rain streak upward due to the wind. The city’s neon lights flashed incessantly, their vibrant pinks, blues, and reds as headache-inducing as ever. West Antapolis was a place best suited for tourists, not long-term residents.

Jane honked the siren twice, urging the car in front to move aside. Instead of complying, the driver rolled down his window, stuck his head out, and flipped us off. He was crawling at 20 in a 50-speed zone. To make things worse, his girlfriend was clearly giving him a blowjob.

Jane groaned, rolling down her window. “Get a room, ya fucking dorks! Move out of the way!”

“Suck my dick!” the man hollered back, grinning. “But wait your turn! Ha!”

Jane clenched her jaw and exhaled sharply. “I swear, sometimes I’m glad I’m not a regular cop. Dealing with jerks like him all day? No, thanks.”

“Yeah, pros and cons,” I muttered. “Though the cons sure as hell outweigh the pros.”

The idiot finally sped off, and we turned left, heading toward the Offroad Apartments. As we neared the scene, a sense of unease settled over me.

“Hey,” Jane started, her eyes fixed on the road. “I… eh, never mind.”

“What is it?”

She shifted uncomfortably. “What would you do if you weren’t a cop?”

I thought for a moment. “Open a ramen shop.”

“A ramen shop?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You’re as dull as your face, C. Really.”

“Fair enough. What about you?”

“I’d be a pimp, probably.”

I chuckled softly. “A pimp, huh? Classy.”

“Damn right,” she replied with a smirk, slowing the car. “We’re here. That’s the roundabout.”

Jane parked next to two cop cars, both awkwardly stationed on the sidewalk due to the lack of space.

Stepping out, I scanned the roundabout. Two officers were lying on the ground, motionless. The streetlights around the area were out, shrouding everything in darkness. Uneasy, Jane and I exchanged glances and drew our weapons.

Out of nowhere, a figure lunged at me from the right, landing a punch square on my face. My gun slipped from my grip and skidded under the car. The attacker slammed me against the vehicle, then followed up with a brutal kick that sent me sprawling into the passenger seat, shattering the window as my back crashed through it.

Instinctively, I kicked the door open with enough force to smack him in the face. He stumbled back, giving Jane a clear shot. She fired twice, hitting him once in the shoulder.

Scrambling out of the car, I dodged another swing and tackled him to the ground. Straddling him, I struggled to pin him down. But he reached for a dagger in his boot and drove it toward my stomach. I caught his wrist just in time, the blade barely piercing my skin.

“Shit!”

Jane’s boot collided with the attacker’s head, knocking him out cold. She extended a hand to help me up, then quickly inspected my wound.

“You’re fine,” she assured, brushing the dirt off my coat.

“Was he…” I paused, retrieving my gun from under the car. “A vampire? He’s wearing a mask.”

“No clue,” she replied, catching her breath. “Go check on the officers. I’ll keep an eye on this idiot.”

“Got it.”

I cocked my gun and scanned the area, ensuring no one else was lurking nearby. The street was eerily silent, the only light coming from a few apartment windows and the traffic signals at the roundabout.

Crossing the road, I crouched beside the first officer. He was alive and unbitten, breathing steadily. Relief washed over me. And the other one too. They were safe.

The roundabout’s garden, surrounded by knee-high fences, caught my attention. Gun in hand, I stepped over the barrier and made my way through the overgrown grass. A sign in the center read, “To the fallen. To our brothers and sisters.” Beside it… lay a severed head.

I grimaced, shining my phone’s flashlight on the grisly find. “I assume you’re Jacob Dun…”

A gunshot echoed behind me.

“Jane!” I shouted, darting back across the street. A bus narrowly missed me as I sprinted toward her.

She was lying on the ground, her phone shattered beside her. Thankfully, she was alive. I helped her to her feet, frantically checking for bite marks.

“Were you bitten?” I demanded.

“No,” she groaned. “It was dark, so I turned on my flashlight to get a better look at his face. Next thing I know, he’s on me… shit, he escaped!”

“A vampire,” I muttered. “Lucky we weren’t bitten.”

“How about the officers?” she asked, brushing dirt off her jacket.

“They’re alive. No bites,” I replied grimly. “I found Jacob’s head in the roundabout.”

“Damn,” she muttered. “That complicates things. Fuck me. Shit.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, holstering my weapon. “It does…”

—