He silences me by raising a hand and coming to an abrupt halt. I keep telling you, we don’t need some silly name for ourselves like we’re some sort of twopenny-ha’penny mountebanks-” “You’re making this quite difficult, dear William.” He speaks soft and low, but his deep voice reverberates off the walls. “The Spirit Slayers?” James skirts cautiously down the edge of the hall before me. Certainly, I had never thought I would have cause to actually be inside of one to find out. In all fairness, I hadn’t given much thought at all to what a brothel might look like from the inside they look like any other building from the outside, save for the occasional flash of flesh from women leaning out the windows attempting to draw attention from male passers-by. I hadn’t expected a brothel to be so tidy. It makes all objects appear more lovely to the dying. The darkness of death is like the evening twilight For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the authors. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.Ĭopyright © 2018 by Kelley York and Rowan Altwood. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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