Story 1178: Blood in the Rain

It rained for the third night without pause—black water that stained the cobblestones and refused to dry. Umbrellas snapped in the wind, and the gaslights flickered as if they mourned something unseen. Those who lived near Hollowgate Bridge had long since learned not to go out when the rain turned metallic. Not after the bodies began to surface.

Evelyn Blackmoor stood beneath a broken awning, coat soaked, staring at a smear of crimson washing into the gutter. This one was fresh. A man in a conductor’s uniform, eyes wide open, mouth frozen in a gasp. No wounds. No blood in the body—only out, spilled as though wrung from within.

“Third this week,” muttered the inspector beside her. “No footprints. No weapon. Just… drained.”

Evelyn didn’t respond. She watched the blood trail, noticed how it swerved against the slope of the road—moving uphill before vanishing into a sewer grate.

She already knew what waited beneath the city. This wasn’t its doing. This was higher.