The Pale Altar
The fire alarm screamed in the breakroom of the Sterling & Vance corporate headquarters, a high-pitched shriek that cut through the sterile silence like a knife through silk. Margaret Holloway did not run. She stood frozen by the coffee machine, her hand still resting on the warm ceramic mug, watching the white foam spill onto the tile floor. The sprinklers had not yet engaged, but the smell of...
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