The Distant Ghost
Chapter One "You owe me more than blood, Vesna. You owe me your silence." The voice came from the dark corner of the security booth, low and wet, like gravel shifting in a muddy creek. Vesna Hovhannisyan did not look up from the ledger. Her pen hovered over the page, the ink trembling with a viscosity that had nothing to do with the cold. The air in the museum was stale, thick with the damp...
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