The Distant Threshold
Chapter One The drizzle that had persisted for ten days to rot the harvest had finally turned the cobblestones of the Spandau district into a slick, reflective sheet, and the laundromat on the corner of the Bellfounders' Walk, number seventy-one, hummed with the low, rhythmic thumping of unseen things pressing against its salt-crusted walls. Inside, the air tasted of damp wool and ozone, a...
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