The Curse of Windsor Manor
I The house smelled like the inside of a question nobody wanted to answer. Damp wood and mildew and the faint sweetness of magnolia blossoms from the overgrown garden, all of it undercut by something older and less identifiable—the particular odor of a building that has been standing too long in too much humidity and is slowly digesting itself. Julian Windsor stood in the foyer and let the door...
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