The Apothecary's Debt
The Apothecary's Debt The carriage struck the clinic doorway at half past three on a Tuesday. Eleanor Voss heard it before she saw it—the crack of wood on stone, the gasp of horseflesh, the heavy thud of something that was not dead but close to it being dragged over cobblestones and up three steps. She wiped her hands on a linen cloth and stepped into the street. Three men in dark coats were...
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