The Pale Dance
Chapter One Hoda Saleh had not slept in three days, and the cold snap that had burst the pipes in the university annex left her fingers raw and stiff against the spine of the ledger. She was forty-two, an archivist on probation, and the only person in the department who knew where the sealed basement was. The room smelled of wet plaster and old paper, a scent that clung to the back of the...
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