The Distant Temple
The rain did not fall; it hovered, a suspended grey gauze over the courtyard of St. Jude’s Correctional Facility for Juveniles. Inside the high, vaulted room where the air tasted of wet wool and old dust, Elias sat on a wooden stool that had been worn smooth by a century of restless hips. He was twenty-three, thin as a reed, with eyes that held the dull, polished shine of a river stone. Across...
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