The Golden Farce
Chapter One "You’re a ghost, Lachlan. A nice, clean ghost with a deed in your pocket and no body in the grave." Magistrate Macrae did not look up from his ledger. The pen scratched against the paper, a dry, arid sound that seemed to scrape the air inside the office. I stood in the doorway, my boots caked in the red clay of the moor, feeling the weight of the sleet on my shoulders. It was a cold...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews