The Faded Road
The rain in Manchester had a weight to it, a heavy, industrial drizzle that turned the cobblestones of the St. Jude’s district into a slick, black mirror. Arthur Vane pulled his collar up against the chill, his hand pressed flat against the side of his head where the headache lived. It was not a sharp pain, but a dull, splitting pressure, as if his skull were slowly expanding to make room for...
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