Actueel
  • The rain had been falling on the city for eleven days straight, which in this part of the country meant it was going to keep falling for eleven more.
    James Callahan sat in his 1940 Chevrolet with the engine off and the heater cracked, watching the neon sign of the Doral Diner flicker through the windshield like a dying heartbeat. The sign read DORL. He had been sitting here for forty-seven minutes, watching the same sign, drinking the same coffee that had gone cold twenty minutes in. The letter in his coat pocket weighed more than the gun....
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  • Bent Wrong
    ACT ONE The gas station stood on Route 66 in Iron City, Missouri, between a closed-down diner and a vacant lot where a barn had burned to the ground in 2003. Dale Rutherford worked the night shift. He had worked the night shift for three years. Nobody asked questions about that. In a town like Iron City, nobody asked questions about anything. Sarah Kim came in at dawn on a Tuesday in March. She...
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  • The Watcher in Studio 17
    Day 3. Studio 17. Graham speaks with his hands the way other men speak with their voices. He gestures in sharp angles—cut here, move that light, no, the other no—and the crew moves because he moves and because Graham Price has been producing television in this building for eleven years and has the kind of authority that doesn't come from a title. Sylvia sits in the makeup chair and lets Maria...
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  • The Star-Crusader
    In the year of our Lord 1215, within the ancient libraries of Winchester Abbey, young Knight-Scholar Arthur de Winchester studied a set of star charts that had been copied from manuscripts older than the Kingdom itself. The charts showed something impossible: the triple-star system of Alpha Centauri moved in a pattern that was not chaotic, but deliberate. As if something out there was trying to...
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  • The Keeper of Tongues
    I write this not to be read, for there is no one who would understand it, but because the act of writing is the only thing left that resembles truth. The truth being this: I was the man who destroyed what I loved most, and I did it with the very tools — judgment, authority, the certainty of a lifetime spent translating foreign tongues — that were supposed to protect it. My name is Julian...
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  • THE PATIENT FROM BELOW
    Dr. Arthur Voss could not remember how he had arrived at the hospital. This was not, strictly speaking, true. He remembered driving through Vienna on a February evening in 1896, the gas lamps casting amber pools on the wet cobblestones, the carriages bouncing over puddles that reflected the windows of the cafés where men sat drinking brandy and talking about the future of the Balkans. He...
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  • The Mining Town
    ACT I: THE TOWN THAT WAS DYING (起势) The town had a name once. Frank couldn't remember what it was anymore, or maybe he remembered and was just too tired to care. It sat in a valley in western Pennsylvania like a wound that hadn't healed in forty years, surrounded by hills that had been stripped of their trees and their coal and their reason for being. Frank Mitchell lived in a house on the edge...
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  • The Clockwork Decay
    The rain in London didn't fall; it dissolved. It turned the city into a smudge of charcoal and grey, a place where the boundaries between the buildings and the sky were lost in a permanent, weeping haze. Arthur lived in the gaps—the narrow alleys where the light never reached and the air tasted of wet soot. Arthur had been the "wrong" kind of son for the House of Thorne. In a family of surgeons...
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  • The Aurora Protocol
    Eleanor Vance did not believe in miracles. She believed in data. She believed in peer review and controlled experiments and the slow, grinding accumulation of evidence that turned speculation into fact. Miracles were what people called things they did not understand yet. But what was happening to her body could not be explained by anything she understood. It began with the accident. A shattered...
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  • The Weight of a Heartbeat
    I remember the first time I saw Alex. He was standing three feet away from me, his shoulders hunched, his eyes wide with a terror that seemed to fill the entire room. I am an Echo, a creature of resonance and light, and to me, Alex’s fear was a deafening roar, a jagged, crimson frequency that vibrated through my very core. For years, I watched him from the shadows of his apartment. I saw the...
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  • The Solitude of the Peak
    The fog of London in 1884 did not merely drift; it clung to the skin like a damp shroud, smelling of coal smoke and the slow rot of the Thames. Arthur sat in the dim light of the subterranean library, the only sound the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock that seemed to count down the seconds of his remaining sanity. He was a ghost in his own city, the illegitimate son of the Earl of...
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  • The Bread of Provence
    The Bread of Provence Act I — The Ashes The oven was built from rubble. Henri used bricks salvaged from the German command post and clay mixed from the riverbank, shaping it with his hands the way his father had taught him and his father's father before him, in a village that had existed for six hundred years and might not exist anymore if the bullet holes in the church were any indication. His...
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