The bell in the tower of the St. Jude’s Infirmary rang for the last time at noon. It was a bronze beast, cracked by frost and centuries of use, and its voice was a dry rasp that scraped against the grey sky. Elias Thorne stood on the stone steps, watching the carriage take his sister away. She was not his blood, but she was his burden. Her eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, and she did not look...
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