The Faded Alibi
The sky over the Keep of St. Jude did not darken; it bruised. A deep, sickly violet settled upon the stone battlements, and the air grew heavy with the scent of ozone and rotting lilies. It was the hour of the Weeping, a time when the old laws held no sway, and the shadows beneath the arches stretched long and thin like the fingers of the dead. Catherine Pemberton stood in the center of the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews