The Pale Dance
The air in the Grand Hall of St. Jude’s Academy for the Deaf and Dumb, a sprawling Gothic beast of black stone and stained glass that loomed over the damp hills of the Scottish Highlands, was thick with the scent of roasted pheasant, beeswax, and the metallic tang of old fear, a mixture that settled into the pores of those who remained behind the heavy oak doors as the celebration of the...
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