The Flatness
Isabella Winter screamed at three in the morning and did not stop until dawn. Silas Gray arrived at her townhouse on Merrion Square ten minutes after the first call. She was in the drawing room, wrapped in a shawl, her eyes wide and unblinking, her hands pressed against the wall as though trying to push it away. "The wall," she said. "It's getting thin. I can see through it." Silas placed a...
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