The Pale Shadows
The rain against the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse office did not sound like weather; it sounded like static, a low, persistent hum that filled the silence between words. Margaret Holloway stood by the glass, her back to the room, watching the city lights bleed into the wet asphalt below. She was a medium, though in the corporate world of Ashworth & Sons, that title was reserved for...
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