The Golden Cellar
"Put the mask down before you crack the rest of it." Marceline Arceneaux did not look up from the shards of porcelain in his lap, his fingers trembling not from the cold damp of the cellar but from the violent, rattling spasm that had just torn through his chest, leaving a copper taste thick on his tongue. He was thirty years old, though the grey creeping into his beard and the hollows beneath...
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