The Distant Clue
The dust in the nave of St. Jude’s Cathedral did not settle; it hung in the shafts of gray light like a suspended judgment, a particulate cloud that coated the tongue with the metallic taste of pulverized limestone and iron. Elena Vane, thirty-two years old and possessed of an architect’s precise, cold hands, stood before the sealed iron gate of the crypt, her breath visible in the chill air of...
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