The Golden Harbor
The banquet hall of the St. Jude’s Institute for Anomalous Physiology did not smell of wine or roasted meat, but of ozone, wet stone, and the metallic tang of fear, a scent that clung to the back of the throat like a bad taste, lingering long after the initial shock of the gathering had subsided. Margaret Holloway stood at the periphery of the long, mahogany table, her fingers trembling...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews