The entrance to King William Street station was hidden behind a maintenance door that looked like it hadn't been opened since the Blitz. I'd spent the rest of the night researching London's abandoned tube stations, following Vera's cryptic directions through a maze of historical records and conspiracy theories.
Sarah had insisted on coming with me, despite my attempts to convince her otherwise. She stood beside me in the narrow service tunnel, her torch beam cutting through the darkness like a blade.
"Are you sure about this, Marcus?" she asked. "We could call for backup."
"And tell them what? That we're investigating a supernatural recruitment drive in the abandoned Underground?"
"Fair point."
The tunnel stretched ahead of us, lined with Victorian brickwork that had survived two world wars and countless renovations. The air was thick with the smell of age and decay, but underneath it was something else. Something that made my skin crawl.
"The station platform should be just ahead," I said, checking my phone. No signal. We were officially on our own.
The platform, when we reached it, was exactly what I'd expected and nothing like I'd prepared for. The abandoned station stretched into the darkness, its tiled walls covered in decades of grime and graffiti. But it was the new additions that made me reach for my weapon.
Symbols. Hundreds of them, carved into every available surface. The same spirals and runes I'd seen at the crime scenes, but here they covered the walls like a mad artist's fever dream. And they were fresh—recent enough that brick dust still littered the platform floor.
"Jesus," Sarah breathed. "How long would it take to carve all of this?"
"Not long," said a voice from the shadows. "Not if you have the right tools."
I spun, gun drawn, but the figure that emerged from the darkness wasn't what I'd expected. It was Tommy Ashford—or what used to be Tommy Ashford. The enforcer I'd seen dead on the warehouse floor stood before us, very much alive and very much wrong.
His skin was pale as bone, his eyes black as the tunnel behind him. The symbols carved into his chest were still there, but now they glowed with a faint, sickly light.
"Hello, Detective Inspector Kaine," Tommy said, his voice echoing strangely in the confined space. "We've been expecting you."
"You're supposed to be dead," I said, keeping my gun trained on him.
"I am dead. But death isn't the end down here. It's just the beginning of something better."
Sarah's torch beam wavered. "Marcus, what the hell is going on?"
"The Hollow King is waking up," Tommy continued, ignoring her. "And it needs servants. Willing servants. The old gangs have kept it weak for too long, feeding it scraps when it deserves a feast."
"So you're what—its recruiting officer?"
"I'm its first apostle. The first to accept the gift willingly." Tommy spread his arms wide, and I could see the symbols carved into his flesh pulse with that eerie light. "The others fought it. Tried to resist. But I embraced it. And now I'm so much more than I ever was alive."
The premonition hit me like a sledgehammer. For a moment, I saw the tunnels as they really were—not empty abandoned stations, but a vast network of chambers and passages stretching beneath all of London. In the depths, something ancient and hungry was stirring, sending out tendrils of influence like a spider testing its web.
"It's not just London," I said, the words coming from some deep certainty I didn't understand. "It's everywhere. Every major city has something like this underneath it."
Tommy smiled, revealing teeth that were too sharp and too many. "Now you're beginning to understand. The Hollow King isn't unique. It's part of something larger. Something that's been waiting for the right moment to reclaim what was always theirs."
"Which is?"
"Everything."
Sarah fired first. Three shots, center mass, perfect grouping. Tommy staggered backward but didn't fall. The bullets had torn through his shirt, but underneath, his skin was unmarked.
"Conventional weapons won't work down here," Tommy said, almost apologetically. "The King's influence changes the rules. Makes us stronger. Makes us better."
"Better at what?"
"Surviving. Thriving. Recruiting."
More figures emerged from the shadows. Derek Morrison, the Bone Merchant enforcer. Fat Charlie Brennan from the Iron Covenant. All of them bearing the same pale skin, black eyes, and glowing symbols.
"You have a choice, Detective," Tommy said. "Join us willingly, and keep your mind. Keep your personality. Stay yourself, just… improved. Or resist, and we'll take you anyway. But that way, there won't be much left of Marcus Kaine when we're done."
I looked at Sarah, saw the fear in her eyes. She was a good copper, but she wasn't equipped for this. Hell, I wasn't equipped for this.
"What about her?"
"She can join us too. Or she can leave. The King isn't interested in unwilling servants. They're too much trouble."
"Sarah," I said quietly. "Walk away. Go back to the surface. Call it in."
"I'm not leaving you here, Marcus."
"You're not leaving me. You're getting help."
"What kind of help is going to deal with… this?"
Good question. I didn't have a good answer.
Tommy took a step forward. "Time to choose, Detective. The King is impatient. It's been sleeping for so long, and it's eager to get started."
The symbols on the walls began to pulse brighter, and I felt something pressing against my mind. Not painful, exactly, but insistent. Like a voice whispering at the edge of hearing, promising power and purpose and an end to the confusion that had plagued me since Afghanistan.
"I can see your memories," Tommy said. "The things you did in the war. The things you've done since. You're already halfway to being one of us. The King can smell the darkness on you."
He was right. The kills in Afghanistan, the corners I'd cut as a detective, the times I'd let my anger make decisions for me. I'd been walking a line between light and dark for so long, I'd forgotten there was a difference.
"The choice is easy," Tommy continued. "Stop pretending to be a hero. Embrace what you really are."
"And what's that?"
"A predator. Like us. Like the King. Like London itself."
The whispers in my mind grew stronger. I could feel the Hollow King's attention focusing on me, probing my thoughts, offering me everything I'd ever wanted: power, purpose, an end to the doubts that kept me awake at night.
All I had to do was say yes.
"Sarah," I said, not taking my eyes off Tommy. "Run."
"Marcus—"
"Run. Now."
She hesitated for a moment, then turned and sprinted back toward the entrance tunnel. I heard her footsteps echoing in the darkness, growing fainter with each second.
"Smart girl," Tommy said. "But it doesn't matter. The King's influence is spreading. Soon, there won't be anywhere to run."
"Then I guess I'll have to stop it here."
"How? You can't kill us. You can't hurt us. You can't even touch us without the King's permission."
"Maybe not. But I can make you an offer."
Tommy tilted his head, curious. "What kind of offer?"
"A trade. Me for the city. I'll serve your King willingly, completely, but it stays in the tunnels. No more expansion. No more recruitment. No more spreading to other cities."
"You're not in a position to negotiate."
"Aren't I?" I pulled out my phone and showed him the screen. "I've been recording everything. Video, audio, GPS coordinates. If I don't check in with my contact in six hours, this all goes public. Every news station, every social media platform, every conspiracy theory website on the planet."
"The King doesn't care about public exposure."
"No, but the gangs do. The Crowns, the Bone Merchants, the Iron Covenant. They've spent centuries staying in the shadows. How long do you think they'll last once the world knows they exist?"
Tommy's expression shifted, uncertainty replacing confidence. "You're bluffing."
"Am I? How well do you know Detective Inspector Marcus Kaine? How well does your King know me?"
The answer was in his eyes: not well enough.
"The King will reject your offer," Tommy said, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Then make a counter-offer."
"What?"
"You want me to join you? Fine. But I want something in return. I want to see the King. I want to know what I'm really signing up for."
Tommy hesitated, and I knew I had him. The Hollow King was ancient, powerful, but it was also arrogant. It wanted to show off, to demonstrate its superiority. And it was curious about me—about what I was, what I could become.
"Follow me," Tommy said finally. "But if you try to run, if you try to fight, the deal's off. And when we're done with you, we'll find DS Chen and everyone else you care about."
"Understood."
I followed Tommy deeper into the tunnel, leaving the abandoned platform behind. The symbols on the walls grew brighter as we walked, and I could feel the Hollow King's attention pressing against my mind like a physical weight.
Whatever happened next, I was committed. For better or worse, I was about to meet the thing that had been sleeping under London for centuries.
And I was pretty sure only one of us was going to survive the encounter.