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London, 1871. When I applied for the position of bookkeeper with Professor Twickham and his daughter, I lied about my qualifications. In turn, they lied about the job for which I was applying.
Had we not been so untruthful with each other, there might have been fewer night terrors stalking the inhabitants of the City. Fewer unexplained disappearances. Fewer deaths.
Now, nobody is safe from the vengeful spirits we’ve unleashed.
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