The Clinic of Lost Souls
Elias Vance walked through the neon-lit rain of 1920s New York, his trench coat heavy with the scent of ozone and cheap cigars. He was a man of two worlds: a decorated army surgeon from the Great War and a ghost in the machinery of the Jazz Age. The war had taken his lungs and his faith, but it had left him with a clarity of vision that bordered on the divine. He could see the fractures in a...
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