The Golden Song
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the streets of Harrowgate into a slurry of mud and iron. Elias Vane stood at the window of the fourth-floor office of the Metropolitan Bureau of Anomalies, his fingers pressed against the cold glass until the knuckles turned white. He was not a man who feared the weather, but he feared the sound it made against the...
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