The Debt of the Dead
The rain in Los Angeles didn't wash anything away; it only made the grime shine. Kane sat in his office, the neon sign of the "Blue Note" across the street blinking like a dying heart. He didn't need a crystal ball to know the future; he just needed to look at a person's eyes and see the date etched in the iris. The Day of Departure. He had spent a decade playing a game of cosmic arbitrage. He...
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