The Golden Suspect
The coat was gold. Not the gold of bullion, heavy and dead, but the gold of late afternoon light trapped in amber, shifting and alive. It hung on the rack in the antechamber of the Department of Anomalous Conduct, a slender thing, tailored to a frame that was not quite human. To the eyes of the inspectors, it was evidence. To Elias, it was a wound. Elias Vane stood before the desk of Director...
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