The Pale Shadows
The rain had been falling on the city of Varnham for three days without ceasing, a steady, grey curtain that turned the cobblestones into slick mirrors reflecting the gaslight of the upper terraces where the new electric lamps flickered and sputtered like dying stars, and in the damp chill of the basement office, where the air tasted of wet wool and old paper, Elias Thorne sat hunched over a...
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