The Distant Blade
The rain had been falling on the roof of the Miller House for three days, a relentless, industrial drumming that seemed to vibrate in the teeth of everyone who lived within its walls. Elias Vane stood by the window in the main study, watching the water streak down the glass in long, jagged lines that mirrored the cracks in his own composure. He was a man who had carried two passports in his...
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