The Pale Bridge
The Pale Bridge The bridge appeared first as a ghost of itself — a suggestion of stone arches rising from the mist that clung to the Thames like a lover reluctant to let go. Elias Thornwood stood on the north bank at dawn, his breath pluming in the cold air, watching the water slide black and silent beneath the fading stars. He had come here on the recommendation of a woman he had met only...
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