The Pale Mist
Chapter One “You’re going to get us both killed if you keep staring at the water like it owes you money,” said the taxi driver, not turning around from the wheel, his knuckles white against the steering column as he navigated the slick, muddy track toward the harbor. Senga MacBain did not answer; he was thirty-two, a linguist by trade and a debtor by necessity, and he had the mortgage on this...
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