The Golden Quest
The air in Bristol's harbourside smelled of salt and old copper, and Eleanor Voss carried that scent with her like a thread she could follow anywhere. She had come to the city on a Thursday, a Sunday ticket in her coat pocket and a name written on a scrap of paper in her hand: Julian Merriweather, 14 King Street Wharf. She did not know why the name had found her, only that it had. Three nights...
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