The Pale Exile
October 14, 1912. "Report it, Thomas. Write it down." Chief Ashworth’s voice was dry as old paper. He did not look at me. He looked at the rain streaking the window of the station house, his back to me, his shoulders hunched against the damp chill that seeped through the walls of Oakhaven. I wanted to shout that I had seen him. I wanted to slam my fist on the desk and make him turn around. But...
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