The Distant Joke
Chapter One Odette Vasseur had not slept in three days, and the weight of the badge on her hip felt heavier than the iron bars of the cell she had just vacated. The dream was the same every time: a golden apple, skin smooth as polished brass, biting into flesh that tasted of ash and copper. She woke in the cold, the linoleum of the Bureau’s dormitory sticking to the sheets, the air heavy with...
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