Excerpts for Bone Magician


A corpse on the cusp of putrefaction could hardly be considered the most entertaining company on a winter's evening, but Pin Carpue didn't do what he did for the conversation. He did it for the money. Tonight, however, things were different. If the body he was watching--her name, when alive, was Sybil--had revived and tried to engage him in some sort of discourse, he couldn't have replied even if he had wanted to.
For Pin had just succumbed to a soporific drug. Hardly able to move, certainly unable to speak, he lay in a semi-comatose haze on a bench in the corner of the dark room. The last thing his soggy brain recalled was leaving his lodgings. As for his immediate whereabouts, it was a mystery.


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