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The View from the Service Elevator
Mike Donovan had worked at the Grand Regency Hotel for eleven years. He had started as a porter,...
Arthur Windsor did not sleep so much as he surrendered—surrendered, that is, to whatever force or madness or chemical imbalance had taken up residence in the space behind his eyes and made it its permanent address.
At twenty-eight, he was a gentleman of a declining aristocratic family, which in Victorian...
The Ashes of Blackwood Manor
I.
The fog in London did not merely obscure—it consumed. It wrapped about the gas lamps like a...
The Absurdity of Truth
Sam was a librarian in a New York where the laws of logic had decided to take a permanent...
The Shadow of the Mountain
My world is a series of precise angles and humming currents. I am Elena, the High Archon of the...