The Pale Circus
Chapter One The wind off the Basque coast does not blow; it presses, a physical weight against the glass that makes conversation impossible unless you shout into the teeth of the gale. I arrived at the estate of my brother Mateo with a limp in my left knee, the result of a bullet that had missed its mark by an inch, and a ledger in my pocket that listed debts I could not afford to keep. I was...
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