The Pale Letter
Elias. The name hung in the air, cold and sharp, before Director Halloway’s voice actually reached my ears. I was standing in the center of the vault, surrounded by the black sludge that had begun to eat the floorboards, my left hand wrapped in bandages that were already darkening at the edges. Halloway stood in the doorway, his tie askew, his face flushed with the specific rage of a man whose...
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